In 1989, a groundbreaking documentary calledJohn’s Not Madoffered a rare glimpse into the life of John Davidson, a sixteen-year-old grappling with severe Tourette’s syndrome in a quiet Scottish town. The film wasn’t just a recording; it was a lifeline, a chance for John to show the world he was more than his condition.
Decades later, at this year’s Baftas, the spotlight returned to John, but this time, it felt less like illumination and more like a harsh interrogation. His life, the inspiration behind the nominated filmI Swear, was once again under intense scrutiny, but not for the reasons he’d hoped.
During the ceremony, John experienced a cascade of tics – involuntary movements and vocalizations, including coprolalia, echolalia, and sudden physical outbursts. Tragically, one of those outbursts included a deeply offensive racial slur, uttered while Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo were onstage.
The BBC’s decision not to edit the language from the pre-recorded broadcast ignited immediate controversy. Was this a reflection of John’s beliefs, or a failure of the broadcaster to provide adequate care and support? The debate raged, leaving John at the center of a storm.
John immediately apologized, expressing profound mortification and emphasizing the involuntary nature of his tics. He stated unequivocally that the word he uttered was one he would “completely condemn” if he had any control over it, stressing it was utterly divorced from his values.
Delroy Lindo acknowledged the difficult situation, stating he and Michael B. Jordan “did what we had to do” in the moment, but also expressed disappointment that Bafta hadn’t followed up with them afterward. Bafta itself later issued an apology for the offensive language, acknowledging the pain it caused.
The incident raises critical questions: Why was John seated near a live microphone, given his well-documented condition? And why, in a pre-recorded event, wasn’t the footage edited to prevent the broadcast of such language? Could more have been done to ensure the comfort and safety of everyone involved?
However, revisiting the 1989 documentary reveals a painful cyclical pattern.John’s Not Madintroduced viewers to a teenager often too frightened to leave his home, a boy whose condition was once mistaken for madness. The film’s central message was simple: John was not mad, he was ill.
The documentary vividly portrays John’s torment. He openly confessed to suicidal thoughts, describing his tics as an external force controlling his body. One particularly harrowing scene shows him desperately pressing his hands over his mouth, battling to suppress the involuntary outbursts.
The film also highlighted the complex nature of his tics, noting how their content often seemed linked to his surroundings, leading others to question their involuntary nature. As a teenager, many of his outbursts were sexual in nature, causing immense distress and isolation.
A renowned neurologist featured in the documentary, Oliver Sacks, observed that John’s Tourette’s was particularly disruptive socially, exacerbating his distress and fueling the cycle of tics. The disorder, Sacks explained, thrived on agitation.
The documentary didn’t shy away from the collateral damage John’s condition inflicted on his family. He faced teasing at school, unjust punishment from a teacher, and the loneliness of eating lunch alone. “Sometimes it feels like everyone hates you because you got this,” he confessed quietly.
The film revealed the strain on his parents, with his father struggling to cope and his mother absorbing the emotional burden. Relatives even suggested demonic possession as a possible explanation, highlighting the ignorance surrounding the disorder.
In a particularly poignant moment, John’s mother, a nurse, spoke candidly about the impact on her marriage. “It put a great strain on us to the point where we were ready to break up,” she admitted, revealing her husband’s tendency to turn to alcohol rather than confront the situation.
The 1989 documentary proved transformative for John. Neighbors who had previously shunned him offered congratulations, and he finally felt he had proven he “wasn’t mad” or a “freak,” but simply someone with a medical condition. He became a powerful advocate for Tourette’s, a public face for the disorder in the UK.
However, in recent years, John has expressed concern that the documentary inadvertently reinforced a misconception: that Tourette’s is primarily about swearing, when coprolalia affects only a minority of those with the condition. The Baftas incident tragically amplified this anxiety.
After decades of working to broaden understanding of a complex neurological disorder, John was once again reduced to the most taboo word his brain could produce. The incident underscores the harm of prejudice and the importance of protecting individuals from harmful language.
The question of why the broadcaster chose to edit Akinola Davies Jr.’s acceptance speech regarding Palestine, yet not the offensive outburst, remains unanswered. Regardless, the Baftas incident echoes the old fault lines exposed inJohn’s Not Mad.
John has consistently explained that his tics are often triggered by his environment, seizing upon whatever is most emotionally charged. At the Baftas, he reportedly uttered “perhaps 10 different offensive words,” with the most historically loaded one being precisely the kind of word Tourette’s might latch onto.
For years, John has strived to separate himself from the content of his tics, insisting they are not a reflection of his thoughts or beliefs. This message has remained consistent throughout his life. What has changed is the scale of amplification.
In 1989, the BBC used a camera to help Britain understand Tourette’s as a neurological disorder, not a moral failing. In 2026, the BBC broadcast his most offensive tic, unedited, to millions, effectively reigniting the very conflation he has spent his life resisting: that the word defines the man.
The tragedy lies not only in the unacceptable position presenters were placed in, or the offensive language viewers were exposed to, but in the fact that a man who once desperately tried to silence his own mouth is, once again, defined by words he has spent a lifetime disowning.
