As one candidate after another topples under the weight of social-media gaffes, two questions occur to us: 1. What were they thinking?
2. Should a person suffer forever for a one-time indiscretion or an ill-advised casual remark?
No party is immune. Last week, Dale Blair, the candidate in the Newfoundland and Labrador riding of Bonavista-Burin-Trinity, was dropped by the Conservative party because comments about women, abortion and racial minorities he posted on Facebook were said to be incompatible with party values.
According to punditsguide.ca, a database of federal election statistics, Blair was the seventh candidate to be dropped by the Conservatives for various gaffes and indiscretions. The website says the Liberals have similarly lost five candidates, and the NDP two. Various other candidates and party officials have had to issue apologies and backtrack because of things they have posted or tweeted, or that have otherwise been revealed through social media.
The gaffes range from the incredibly stupid to, well, the incredibly stupid. Aside from the idiocy of posting misogynistic, racist or hateful remarks, who in this age of instant communication is not aware that anything they post on the Internet can be seen by the whole world? And the dumber or more outrageous the post or tweet, the more likely it will be spread all over cyberspace. Who is na茂ve enough to think that what they tell their friends electronically will remain within that circle of friends?
Let鈥檚 be careful about casting stones, though. Who hasn鈥檛 made a thoughtless, sarcastic or jesting remark that does not reflect the speaker鈥檚 character and principles? Sometimes a person says outrageous things that are tongue-in-cheek, or are part of playing devil鈥檚 advocate. But when such things are spoken, they seldom leave the room. They usually fade away quickly, forgotten or dismissed as inconsequential.
But when those remarks enter the Internet flow, they cannot be called back. They live forever, with the ability to surface at the most inopportune times, such as election campaigns.
People make mistakes and apologize. They become enlightened and change their ways. They turn away from the follies of youth and adopt more mature attitudes. They should be able to leave the past behind.
But the Internet is blatantly unfair. The most abject apologies cannot erase the digital record. The Internet is harsh and unforgiving; it is accuser, judge, jury and executioner. It neither forgives nor forgets. Time, in cyberspace, does not heal all wounds, but reopens those wounds repeatedly and pours salt in them.
We should not saddle people with all their sins. We should not hold people to what they once said, if they say and believe something different now. We should admire those who have learned from their mistakes and have moved on.
Still, we should not be so na茂ve as to think that an apology automatically makes everything right. An error or two in the past is one thing; an established pattern of nastiness or intolerance cannot quickly be brushed away by a grudging apology upon being caught.
Someone seeking public office should not be denied the opportunity simply because they were thoughtless or rash at some time in the past.
But try to tell that to the voters, who might understandably think that someone who recklessly broadcasts hateful or idiotic remarks is someone not really suited to be part of government.
Yes, the consequences of social-media goofs are often out of proportion. It鈥檚 not fair, but the best way to avoid those disproportionate consequences is to refrain from posting things you don鈥檛 want the world to see.
