As I reflected on the incredibly shallow outcry against the BlackJerry ad, I thought back to some of my favorite works of literature that contain potentially racist messages and wondered if they would have even been given a chance to establish their brilliance in a culture, such as the one here at Brandeis. Since the ad's publication, students have said that the line between humor and offense is quite thin. But taking this a step further, we could say that the line between offense and true genius is even thinner. Some of William Shakespeare's most beloved and noteworthy plays center on seemingly racist themes. In particular, the characterization of the sly crafty Jew in Merchant of Venice and the Moor in Othello are described with very typical stereotypes. Othello is the lusty black man with a temper who allows his desire for his lovely, innocent white girlfriend's fidelity to cloud his judgment to such an extent that he tragically kills her and himself. Shylock is the villainous penny-pinching investor who gets his comeuppance when his daughter leaves him for a non-Jew and he is forced to give up all of his capital and convert to Christianity.

At first glance, these character portrayals seem bigoted. Yet Shakespeare truly was no racist, and indeed scholars have speculated that he actually had a romantic relationship with a black Londoner. Still, the racial stereotypes that permeate his works seem to clash with the depth of his analysis of human beings.

But many modern literary critics argue that Shakespeare used race to strike at the heart of humanity's stereotypes and expose them as fraudulent. There is an ongoing debate over whether or not he used stereotypes maliciously or constructively. It is likely, especially in Othello, that the characters' races were emphasized in order to show how the pettiness of racism and that one's skin color does not delineate quality in either moral standards or leadership. In recent revisions, even Shylock has been made into a tragic anti-hero of his play. Indeed, part of the legacy of these works is to bring the question of racial justice to the forefront of our discourse and make us question their usage and efficacy.

However, the BlackJerry ad was satirical, and therefore, we should look to the greatest satirist of all time, Jonathan Swift, and his essay "A Modest Proposal." Indeed, this is a fitting example because Swift's masterwork was misunderstood, and he nearly lost his peerage for it. In his plea, Swift brilliantly advocates the impoverished Irish selling their babies to the English to be consumed. In doing so, the Irish could raise themselves out of poverty. Swift's essay exposes England's exploitation of the Irish and an English apathy toward improving the Irish peoples's living conditions. Swift also brings out several of the negative stereotypes of the Irish, calling their practices "savage and inhumane" and saying that the old and sick should quickly die out to help solve the poverty problem. Indeed, Swift derides the Irish men, women and children. It is only when the reader eventually realizes the unreliability and absurdity of the narrator that the true brilliance of his proposal comes out.

This is not of course to say that the BlackJerry ad is at a level of satire or quality as the works of Shakespeare, Swift or any other literary great; it clearly is not. However, the important question still remains: If these works that have now achieved canonization and overwhelming celebration were published on our campus in a media publication, would students tolerate them? With greater oversight over media publications proposed by some students following the BlackJerry incident, would these works even be allowed to be published? The closed-minded fear mongering that occurred after BlackJerry printed would have happened regardless of its quality.

My point can be seen when we look at the "Think About It" wall of prejudice created by Student Union officials in the Shapiro Campus Center Atrium the week after the incident. Truly, putting a drawing of a swastika on a campus wall beside Gravity's failed satire and a decent poem that happened to have an offensive title ("I hate you thugs") is madness. The poem, even if somewhat offensive, had some literary merits in its discussion of estrangement and awkwardness. While the author of Gravity's ad failed to completely convey his point, at least he achieved some level of satire. Debasing these works by placing them next to Nazi regalia shows that the intention is not to truly study or come to terms with the mistakes of students, but instead to group them with overtly racist or sexist stereotypes. This is paranoia at its worst and destroys any hope we have of actually discussing racist issues.

For every blatantly racist voice that censorship-self-imposed or systemic-prevents from being heard, it stifles the voice of several earnest attempts to reach into the nexus of racial identity and common humanity and extract something great.