“Mathew Newton should know better,” said one angry forum fiend. But should we?

Well, here we go. Another month, another celebrity domestic violence scandal – albeit one with considerable déjà vu. I guess this means we’ll forget about Mel Gibson now, until the next time he flips his lid? Or will these two take turns? It’s this cycle that is the shocker in these situations – that we have, after all, seen it all before. Mathew Newton is a damaged man with a violent streak – well, what a surprise! And don’t get me wrong, it’s worth our repulsion to domestic violence against women to be a part of this, absolutely. But let’s stop for a moment, and also take a look at the other aspects such situations allow us to see, in some rather startling shades of very dark truths. There is more to this than meets the single-track minds of the consumer public, or their obliviousness to network TV factories. There is much more damage to be seen, here, than just that of a troubled boy who has been poisoned, like so many before him, by the silver coating on the spoon of his nurture.

First, there is our legal system. To behold its ability to be seduced by celebrity really is an intense thing to consider – not only in what it says about that system, but the society as a whole that it is a part of. That’s where this celebrity culture has got to – our legal system. I mean, really, hello. It’s not just that Newton walked, scott free, from pleading guilty – guilty – to physically assaulting Brooke Sachwell… it’s how.

Newton – and his influence, and, naturally, his family’s money – assembled more than just a clever legal team. First, he assembled the stars. Bert and Patti – those lovable icons of our living rooms – are now busy conducting a range of publicity interviews, and they are, they assure us, very sorry for their son’s illness. But why, then, instead of getting him proper help, did they only help simply in getting their son off charges he was, by his own admission, guilty of? One by one, friends and industry colleagues – none with a vested agenda, heavens no – were rolled out to tell us what a lovely boy Newton is, how he had seen the light, even how much he adored women. Such a compelling character portrait must have been assembled that it led the presiding male judge, Joseph Moore, to declare to official records that he’d been convinced Newton was a man with “the utmost respect for women”, and that – my favourite – he believed he was – wait for it – “a gentleman”. Grasp that, for a moment. Newton had managed to have some of the allegations dropped, as it was – but he at least admitted to pushing her to the ground, weighting himself on her; then, when she freed herself and begged him to stop, he punched her and threw her into the wall. Then, he “consistently stalked and intimidated her. ” The judge acknowledged that he had admitted this was what had happened… and then, called him “a gentleman.” What a wonderful message to send to victims of domestic violence!

And sure, stars get access to great psychiatrists. In fact, the stars have their very own – a top tier of savvy mental health entrepreneurs who tend to the celebrity world’s needs for big dollars, and who are always handy, come the odd court case, should any of them fall to the strange impact upon ego and behaviour that is being famous. Newton’s shrink declared that he – in just mere months, without any intensive treatment – had achieved “real rehabilitation”, and that he had only committed the acts because of an acute attack of his “full blown depressive disorder”, and should not only be free of blame, but seen as having no risk of re-offending. Never mind that depressive disorder very rarely involves violent behaviour (except unto themselves) – although alcoholism would have seemed a more obvious condition to focus the act around (as many have done in the court system, over the years – including our Mel), the trend of late has seen depression and bipolar as the public relations choices du jour – for the decision would not merely have been one for the courts, but a portrait very knowingly tinted with deliberate public relations requirements. Cocaine is always conveniently left out of the mix, for obvious reasons (the public can hardly empathise with that); but now, it turns out that we don’t feel as sorry for alcoholics as we do for those who are pathologically sad – the bizarre redemption of Andrew Johns (who has now blamed everything, from drug abuse to various aggressions, on his bipolar) has paved the way for a new marketing trend.

And it was good enough for the judge, too. “It is significant that Dr Hampshire believes that he is unlikely to repeat an offence of this nature,” he declared, upon allowing Newton’s appeal, completely quashing any conviction. The circus was over. Newton walked free, and was soon picked up (after God knows how many hours of boardroom production meetings where personas were carefully considered to bring the show to life and to the consuming public) as the perfect choice for the “bad boy” of Underbelly. The bad boy of organised crime being played by the bad boy of media. I shuddered. The publicity of the crime had not only failed to damage his career – it had actually helped it. Record viewing audiences rocked up to see Newton “act” out various scenes of crime that he had only months before been tried for committing in his actual life. Sometimes, the imitation of life by art is a repulsive thing – particularly when it forsakes such ethics for profit.

Meanwhile, Brooke Sachwell’s career hit a dead end.

The ethical debate over the autonomy and responsibility given to those who are psychologically suffering and who have committed a crime is a complex one. It’s another article. But regardless of one’s opinion on this, the one thing that can be at very least sighted is the dissonance between cases like these with the same cases tried against everyday men and women. They do not have fancy lawyers, they do not have celebrity star witnesses, and they are not, I assure you, crowned “gentlemen” by the judges. And, likewise, the celebrity “I’m suffering depression” case is, I have to say, utterly insulting to the millions of everyday men and women who battle these illnesses. They battle them, without being paid millions to lead the party life, tearing through hundreds of thousands of dollars of cocaine (a drug that, whaddya know, makes you a violent asshole). They very rarely get off on court charges on such a basis – they simply can’t afford to roll in the shrinks required, and they certainly do not have the hypnotic allure of star witnesses. But it’s very different, if you’re rich and famous. Celebrity corrupts law. That’s… you know… kinda screwed up.

And nobody cared, mind you. That’s the thing. Yes, yes, the forum boards are flowing with self-righteous blame of Newton; but it’s all a bit rich, quite frankly. Where were these people, before? Where was the outrage? There wasn’t any. And why, if they are so disturbed by him now, were they not boycotting his new gig on The X Factor? What are we not getting about the way contemporary media and entertainment – the culture of celebrity – works? If we will buy, they will sell. It doesn’t matter what they’re selling – or who – or what they’ve done – so long as we will lap it up. And people did. There was genuine excitement in the mainstream commercial TV demos when Newton was declared the host of that horrid show. The people were buying. The boys in suits were getting paid. Newton was still a star. Everyone’s happy.

Oh. Except, Brooke Sachwell. I’m guessing she hasn’t had the best time watching that all happen.

Chanel Seven… well… it’s vaguely redundant to observe the lack of ethics in a commercial TV network like Seven, but let’s consider it anyway. There is a fair observation that can be made by anyone who really understands the industry – and it’s being made, mind you, by some commentators, at least – that this one really has an added layer, if you ponder the chronology and realize that, obviously, Seven knew very well their star was in trouble when they hired him. The million dollar question (literally) is whether they were, therefore, simply ignoring this reality – so eager to exploit his celebrity status – or were they actually expecting him to fall apart, hence creating the incredible volume of publicity now being given to the show? The show, after all, has benefited greatly out of this.

One Daily Telegraph commentator noted that hiring an actor in such a state had now paid “enormous dividends” in “saturation publicity” and suggested the network execs “give themselves a big pat on the back.” It’s hard not to agree that this must be a potential reality of the inner-workings behind the contract – particularly, when you look at the publicity leading up to the incident. If you don’t properly understand the industry and its publicity machine, let me assure you, every single interview he does in and for the lead up to a show he is under contract for is arranged and basically scripted – strategically positioned and penned – by the show and its marketing & publicity departments. Why, after so long, was the show so very keen to send Newton out to pressland to bark endlessly about his “problems” and his glorious redemption? Why inject that into our consciousness? It actually didn’t need to be – we had, as we do with our five minute modern attention spans, largely forgotten. Then, what happens? It creates the perfect attention now set in place for Seven to start giving stories to the press about how Newton had started to fall from his self-declared grace, and that he was now being picked up and dealt with by who? Seven. What angels! Soon, there are stories of Seven sending out their angels to rescue Newton and bring him home, and finally that he is being relinquished from the show. There is no mention, mind you, of the incidents against Rachel Taylor, Sachwell’s unfortunate successor – even though, considering we now know the incidents were “the talk of the town” and had even resulted in police being called, and the sedation of Newton, there is no way in hell Seven didn’t know what had gone down. They said nothing, of course – only that they had gone to fetch him, after certain “incidents”. But they didn’t have to. That bomb was about to explode by another detonation. They had him positioned already for that – announcing his unfortunate departure, with Seven supposedly sending him off to rehab for his own good – by the time that happened.

It’s a bit off, to say the least. And more than a bit suss.

The X Factor has secured the kind of publicity it simply couldn’t have bought through traditional avenues. It is now the most anticipated premiere of this season, and, far from the brand being damaged by the scandal, it can position itself blameless. It’s not Newton, after all. Hey, they sacked him, after all. They did what they could. It’s brilliant. Whoever the people are behind this, they would have been the dream team in the days of Big Brother. At very least, however contrived, they have ridden the crisis control completely away from any questioning of why they would have hired someone they knew was in such a space, in the first place. They can all expect a raise.

It’s brutal, the world of celebrity. The juxtaposition of its brutality and its glamour is truly mesmorising. The machine saved Newton in a way no ordinary man or woman is privy to, when it suited it to. Now, the machine will abandon him and grab the publicity and brand positioning it can ride off the public’s hypocritically late lynching. Newton may deserve condemnation. He does. But what a pity it is a timed condemnation that we are manipulated into having, simply because the media has decided it’s time to.

It is too late to have prevented the horrible experience for Taylor (whose public statement today was strong, and should be applauded). It is too late to have stopped Newton re-offending. And, of course, it is too late for the girl who had to not only watch the celebrity machine completely abandon her, as it strove to protect its product and a member of an industry dynasty, but the legal system and the public at large. Sachwell must be relieved, in part – that, at least, he has been seen for what he is. But her case can never be retried; I’m sure the memory of that abandonment will forever linger. We see truths, sometimes, in the most brutal ways. What a dose that poor girl has had.

One waits for the Australian public to reach its own epiphany. It will turn, instead, to the most high profile reality TV premier of the year.