Peter Slipper, the now stood-aside 27th Speaker of the House, has occupied our media’s attention for months now. The column inches make sense. There’s political intrigue, sexting, harassment allegations, betrayal and possible corruption. But what is at the heart of our fascination? Could the Slipper affair be a modern-day morality play?
There’s something of the conceited Mr Collins from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice in Peter Slipper. We know for sure that a real heroine wouldn’t want him. If Austen’s Elizabeth Bennett had accepted him, it would somehow have diminished us all.
Mr Collins is a fop, insincere in his opinions and wavering in his proffered affections. He is tolerated and ridiculed, and his desire for power makes him vulnerable to exploitation. He revels in the position of holding the fate of an entire household in his hands. Charlotte finally accepts him, putting pragmatic safety and stability above the lofty ideals of integrity and romantic love. We don’t despise her, we understand her predicament, but we don’t want to follow in her footsteps. Who would?
Peter Slipper agreed to an arranged marriage — and we have a marked disdain for arranged marriages in the dominant culture of this country. Particularly those marriages where little attention is paid to the future happiness and compatibility of both parties. You can make a marriage of convenience for the pragmatic goal of security, but we’re likely to judge you as a fool or a loser. Or worse, we may envy your ability to put aside passion for position.
One of the many things keeping the Slipper affair on the front page is our fascination with the consequences of compromising our most cherished values. “What price did Charlotte pay?” we wonder. While much of the media content has focused on Slipper’s guilt or innocence, whether he was exploiter or exploited, the true story of his actions doesn’t seem to interest us much.
Instead, we appear to be entranced by the age-old conundrum of whether a crooked road can ever lead to a desired destination. I think we’re deeply interested in what happens when we are inauthentic in our relationships. Can the ends ever justify the means? Do we ever really get away with using people?
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