Nothing wrong with good, old-fashioned sense

In truth, Jordan Peterson’s advice is quite mild; find a job, a partner, don’t get divorced. Why then is our response to it so feral?

Artwork from the Protest Jordan Peterson Facebook page. Supplied

Jordan Peterson is returning to Australia. Naturally, there will be protests.

“Pumped to take on lobster boy!” says one comment on the Protest Jordan Peterson Facebook page. “I’m glad someone is taking a stand against this racist, sexist, ­homophobic, arachnophobic …”

Wait … arachnophobic?

Look, it’s actually kind of cute, and it’s not like you’ve never made a mistake, plus you can see what he means: anachronistic probably, old-fashioned, which Peterson — he’s a Canadian psychologist, in case you don’t know — certainly is, which is why so many Australian parents like him.

Hand a copy of Peterson’s book, Twelve Rules for Life, to the stroppy teen in the basement, and suddenly the bed’s getting made. What sorcery is this?

Well, Peterson’s idea — and this is hardly new — is that neither you, nor him in the basement, can save the world today but you can improve your own life, and with it the lives of others.

Start with the bed. Just take control of that one thing. Because you are not pathetic, not hopeless, not useless. You’re listless, despondent, but you can do something about that. Get up, get dressed, make the bed, go out in the world, knock on some doors. Find a job.

Maybe it won’t happen today, but at least when you get home after hours of trudging the streets, your bed will be made, because you made it, because you are not completely hopeless, et cetera, so let’s do the same again tomorrow.

You will eventually get a job — pretty much everyone who wants one does — and then you’ll have some money in your pocket. Now take on some responsibility. Take up some further study, get yourself a girlfriend, a boyfriend if that’s your thing, settle down, buy a house, have a baby, adopt a couple of dachshunds.

Now put a roof over the heads of the people you love. Take out the bins. Sweep in with an impressive “I’ve got this” when she squeals about the big spider on the skirting board (because you’re not arachnophobic, are you?).

Voila. Your life now has meaning and purpose. You’ve improved the lives of others, too. If you’re a teen, you’ve made your mum happy because the bed is made. If you’re a husband, your wife is happy because she feels your protective embrace.

Maybe you’re thinking: bit late for me, my life long ago went to hell. Lucky thing, you now have two choices: you can wave your fist at the sky like a demented Homer Simpson, or you can think of something to improve it. Don’t have that drink tonight. Don’t go to the pokies. Make the bed.

Now, Peterson is obviously a very long way from the first person to come along brandishing such advice — you need something to do and someone to love; really, that has been pretty well chewed over the past few millennia, you can even stream it these days (start with The Good Place on Netflix).

But let’s go back a minute: “Pumped to take on lobster boy!” Lobster boy?

Yes, because Peterson goes on in his book about lobsters, how they live in hierarchies and have hard shells, and look, I’m wading into dangerous territory. Peterson’s ideas attract good people, no question, but there’s a claque that’s utterly humourless. Try telling them “the lobster thing is stupid”. They’ll go off their nut. “It’s not stupid! He’s smarter than you, don’t you know!” Yes, I know. I do know that. I still think the lobster thing is stupid.

That said, Peterson’s critics? Also feral.

He’ll tweet something anodyne about the pay gap, like this last week: “Partnered women in part-time work have high levels of job satisfaction”, and he’ll get backers. One said: “I find a traditional set-up (husband works long hours, I look after the children full time) works very well. He earns money for us all to enjoy. I don’t wish to change it and neither does he.”

Ho ho, stand back, lady, you’re in for a pile-on. She was bewildered by the level of vitriol.

“I never thought saying something so boring and traditional would get so many reactions. I guess being a bit old-fashioned makes you quite the revolutionary these days.”

In truth, Peterson’s points are often quite mild. The arrival of children affects the working lives of both mums and dads, he says. Dad starts working more, to meet his new commitments; mum starts working less, for the same reason. Such arrangements work for many families. Perfectly reasonable, one might think.

National Union of Students ethnocultural officer Hersha Kadkol told OutInPerth that Peterson’s views are “straight out of the 1950s, or the discredited eugenics movement that saw inequality as natural … We can’t afford to ignore Jordan Peterson. He’s not just a professor and life coach.”

No, but as advice goes, Peterson’s is fairly solid: get a job, find some friends, set goals, work towards them. Save your money, don’t drink too much (it’s not good for depression). Don’t get ­divorced, not if you can help it.

Yet the protest banners drawn up so far describe him as a “far-Right philosopher and bigot”. In Melbourne protesters are urged to “join the Campaign Against Racism and Fascism” in a “speakout where we attempt to undermine Peterson’s normalisation of bigotry and alt-right ideologies”.

The guest speaker? Roz Ward. No ideology there, she said wryly.

Peterson can be offensive, provocative, everything else we’re scared of, but he’s always up for the argument, which is important.

The first stop on Peterson’s Australian tour was at the Perth Convention Centre last night (again tonight). He moves on to Adelaide on Monday and he’ll be around until the end of the month. He sold out Sydney’s Opera House in something like three minutes. Tickets are changing hands at $900 a pop on dodgy resale sites.

Fans will remember he didn’t appear on Q&A last time he was here. That show has every visiting leftie in the world on, but not the guy who has sold out 100 cities? What’s wrong with the ABC?

Cool your jets, there was no blackout: Leigh Sales had him on 7.30. She’s not afraid of ideas. He also did radio, long-form.

So, Q&A this time, then? I checked with his people. At time of writing, Peterson was not scheduled to appear. This may well change. It should. Let’s see.