Alas for cartoonists, pen and ink don’t wash on the web

http://www.theguardian.com/media/2015/jan/11/cartoonists-pen-ink-dont-wash-web-charlie-hebdo

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Odd to see cartoons spanning the world in a techno trice: hot topic number one. Then to note sadly that the heyday of the cartoonist is going-gone, a victim of digital revolution. Two kinds of journalist have been axed repeatedly through the years of US newspaper recession: one is the ombudsman, the readers’ friend (who couldn’t be afforded any longer when push came to shove). The other is the staff cartoonist, star of the editorial page and occasionally the front, an artist with a reach beyond mere words. Think Herblock and Bill Mauldin, just as we think Low and Vicky.

But why, in a cash-strapped US, pay a pen-and-ink wizard when you can pick up syndicated stuff for a tenth of the price? Especially since editorial pages have shrunk so that the cartoon no longer has much of an empire to command – and colour photography has taken over up front. It might be different if some new digital future had opened instead; yet that’s not the case.

Political cartoons need to dominate a page, attract the eye first, set an agenda. Reach that page, a cluster of type around bold strokes and bold ideas; sit back and look. The latest Steve Bell, Peter Brookes, Rowson or Dave Brown may knock your socks off. But there’s no equivalent small-screen clout online. Click and you get a gallery of drawings, an archive in the lugubrious making. There’s no domination; it’s just another e-page passing by. Any impact depends on reconstructing the print experience from memory. Transition may provide many bright opportunities elsewhere, but not here.

Charlie Hebdo worked to old print rules with a front-page twist. Instead of the cartoonist being a kind of autonomous columnist, dealing in ideas of his own, here the presiding Charb was a master cartoonist himself, using his front page to shock and sell via dominant images: the cartoon as editorial-illustration-cum-statement.

It’s a technique without any precise British equivalent. Private Eye probably comes closest, though without the ideological edge. (Charlie’s politics would make Ed Miliband’s hair curl.) But it’s also necessary to note that it wasn’t an unalloyed success.

Charlie always had a struggle to survive. It was off the streets for 11 years, then brought back to life. It had another bad spasm of debt only two months ago. A sale of 50,000 or so – about a tenth of the Canard Enchaîné – doesn’t exactly represent the kind of beloved French enterprise so much protest portrayed last week. Liberty without overwhelming fraternity, you might say. But it was – and will be again this week – a wonderfully sardonic, fearless production. A collector’s item, too, as a million copies roll off the presses. Out of time in some ways, you might say. Though never out of courage or inspiration.

■ Satire, apparently, is some great British invention that broadcasters can read off autocues. Or, as the Daily Mash puts it: “Humanity’s ability to laugh at itself is its best hope for survival, according to experts”. But Eye, Poke and Mash to one side, our sons of Swift seem in short supply. TV has abdicated for the election, if not for the decade. Channel 4 – like the BBC – relies on comedians making panel-show jokes that avoid real hurt (if not occasional offence).

If you want to raise a real laugh, you’re probably better trying for yourself – or tuning in to Jon Stewart and John Oliver. But remember: this is the country that couldn’t take Emily Thornberry snapping White Van Man. Instant outrage is our social media weapon of choice. We may reckon we’re humorous-plus. Everything around, though, makes us splitting-sides-minus.