Zoe Saldana, whom you may remember as a delightful blue creature from Avatar, stirred up a fresh whirlwind of controversy on Sunday after telling a reporter she blamed her own industry for the election of Donald Trump to office.
The actress, currently on a press tour for the Ben Affleck-directed movie, Live By Night, told a reporter: "We got cocky and became arrogant and we also became bullies."
![Zoe Saldana](/web/20170508190102im_/http://www.theage.com.au/content/dam/images/g/t/s/4/w/7/image.related.articleLeadwide.620x349.gts1ki.png/1484538601949.jpg)
Only a week earlier, Meryl Streep had made global headlines after devoting her speech at the Golden Globes to a searing critique of Trump. Saldana, in what was surely a covert shout-out to Streep, continued:
"We were trying to single out a man for all these things he was doing wrong... and that created empathy in a big group of people in America that felt bad for him and that are believing in his promises."
Putting to the side for the moment the CIA findings that Russia influenced the election, and ignoring the fact that Hillary Clinton won the popular vote, let us now dive into what it means to accuse Hollywood of doing the exact thing Donald Trump himself is famous for – bullying.
The word itself has taken on a certain gravitas in recent years, due in part to social media, and, in part to programs in schools. Both spaces have exposed the damaging and dangerous effects of bullying. And, as more and more people who aren't white men enter the workforce, more and more HR departments have set up rigorous policies banning the behaviour. As they should.
And yet, like so many of-the-moment phrases, such as "fake news" and "free speech" there are always the precious few who like to misuse the term and spoil it for everybody.
It's tempting to label almost any situation involving conflict as "bullying" but that doesn't make it true. The reality is that while the behaviour may be far from pleasant, it doesn't constitute bullying unless there's a power imbalance.
![Amber Sherlock's chastising of Julie Snook over a jacket was rude and passive-aggressive, but it wasn't bullying.](/web/20170508190102im_/http://www.theage.com.au/content/dam/images/g/t/r/1/7/x/image.related.articleLeadwide.620x349.gts1ki.png/1484771505464.jpg)
According to the Australian Government: "Bullying is an ongoing misuse of power in relationships through repeated verbal, physical and/or social behaviour that causes physical and/or psychological harm." The dictionary defines it as "[using] superior strength or influence to intimidate (someone), typically to force them to do something."
In other words, bullying happens when the person being attacked does not have the same level of power as the person (or group) attacking them. This imbalance might be due to systemic, societal differences, including race, gender and that old chestnut, class (which can include hierarchical differences at work). This imbalance is key because it creates panic, fear and paralysis.
You know that feeling, if you act you'll just invite more aggression, and even violence? The feeling of being trapped because, despite your best efforts, you can not escape, let alone "win". That is bullying.
It is not, (despite what you might've read on the internet), Amber Sherlock berating Julie Snook over the matter of a black jacket. Sherlock was abrasive, but unless the dynamic is entrenched, or there's a marked power imbalance, it's not bullying. So, it's not bullying when a person on social media disagrees with you. It's not bullying if your boss chastises you for your output, unless they do so repeatedly without good reason, or in an abusive manner.
Which brings us to Trump. Put simply, it's very difficult to bully him. If the entertainment industry, known widely for their Democratic leanings, all agreed that they didn't care for Trump; if they lampooned him on television and insulted him in the press… well, that's kind of consistent with what they've always done; not just to would-be presidents, but other public figures they may disapprove of. And in a democracy, it's healthy for the media and entertainment industry to criticise politicians.
And it's true that a lot of people criticised Trump for his lies about his running mates, his boasts about sexual assault, his racist ideas, his complete lack of political experience. There was also the sexual harassment suits and the mocking of a reporter for his disability. These are all obviously matters deserving of the strongest criticism.
Still, Trump has too much power; he's too rich, too privileged, too insulated for such criticism to affect him in any tangible way. This is also what makes him such an effective bully. It's difficult to marshal against him. Doubtless his ego was wounded (a particularly painful experience for a narcissist and the reason he keeps lashing out on Twitter). But did it generate panic and fear? Hardly. It certainly didn't stop him winning.
To be fair, what Saldana was probably trying to address is the perceived elitism of Hollywood. But what she failed to grasp, while making those statements, was how fame has warped her own understanding of privilege and power.
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