“Does integrity have any place in the surf industry
and are there any examples of it?”
I have a nice life. I live in Aotearoa in New
Zealand, a beautiful place. I have a loving family, a young happy
daughter. I get to surf fairly average, uncrowded waves regularly.
I have fulfilling work as a teacher at a secondary school. Life is
good.
Things that frustrate or anger me are external to my situation:
strangers being callous or rude, inequality, suffering, politics.
Common triggers that everyone feels. For years, I have thought that
getting angry does not serve me. It invites negative emotions that
brings me down; it won’t change anything and will only leave me
bitter.
This is the characterisation of anger as portrayed by the
mindfullness and wellness industry. “Take care of yourself first”,
“lean in to positivity”, alongside all the other platitudes. I have
followed this path, working to bring things into perspective, be
thankful of what I have and to appreciate my own
insignificance.
Well, no longer, my friend!
When Chas Smith spoke of how good it felt to get
angry about Andrew Tate and his pro surfer sycophants
I had a ‘hmmm’ moment. I, too, despise the manosphere toxicity that
is spreading among young men, the gormless meatheads (Cole, Jett – I’m looking at you)
and bitter incels that prop up misogynists like Andrew Tate and
spread their woman-hating poison.
I examined my anger. I wasn’t feeling bad. I wasn’t feeling
guilty for getting angry and ruining my positive equilibrium – it
felt good to be angry about this. I was right and my anger was
righteous! I wanted to smote these wankers and what they stand for,
a fightback against the corrupting disease of the manosphere.
Cut to yesterday, reading a piece on Stab about the Matt Biolos
vs Lady Gaga Mayhem spat and I noticed that the comments had been
hijacked by an erstwhile reader who wanted to talk about the Cole
Houshmand being a Tate fanboy debacle.
Well, Michael C wasn’t going to stand for this. See comment
thread below:
Another jolt of righteous anger.
Why was Stab protecting this idiot?
Where are their values of equality and promoting women in
surfing now?
What happened to their female editor?
I know the surf media is a joke but Mikey C’s high handed
dismissal of this being newsworthy incensed me.
I put my phone down and went for my morning run. Steaming mad,
brain whirring about the cozy boys club of the surf industry, the
vileness of the misogyny being peddled by Tate et al, the risks to
the brilliant young women I know, my daughter.
I blitzed my run at an incredible pace. I came back to the house
with so much energy I was fizzing. No hint of fatigue ready to
tackle another hundred hills! It occurred to me. Is righteous anger
the best form of energy, a superpower even?
I remember the British comedian Rob Beckett saying that as a
young man he was always angry.
Coming from a tough working class area of South London, hating
school, feeling like a failure because of his dyslexia he had a lot
to kick against and kick against things he did. This powered him
through life and he channeled his river of rage into his stand-up,
always sparky, energised and combative. Until he had a breakdown in
his late thirties and sought out therapy.
However, despite being a big advocate of mindfulness and stoic
thinking he hasn’t banished anger. He says he keeps an ember of
that rage burning so that it’s always there should he need it. His
metaphor is that the hidden store of anger is like having a nitro
button in a car. There if you need it, to tap and inject that
high-grade rocket fuel of rage.
All this to pose two questions:
1. Is having a secret cache of rage stashed away beneath a calm
and measured mindset the optimal balance for life?
2. Does integrity have any place in the surf industry and are there
any examples of it being displayed you can point to?
P.S. I find it ironic that BeachGrit, run by the two biggest
cynics and believers of surfing being an absurd act, is the forum
that displays the most honesty and decency, despite all the
clickbait nonsense and Derek’s lasciviousness.
