Civility. Intuitive politeness (outside New York, that is). Self-reliance. Enterprise. And lots of other good things I haven’t mentioned.
Yet we never learn such good things. We only ever learn bad ones, such as crudeness, egalitarian familiarity, parochialism, ‘body art’, bad grammar – and no such list would be complete without political correctness.
I first heard the term from my son, then a schoolboy in California, where the term might have been, and certainly should have been, invented. I used the word ‘negro’ in his presence, which to me was a stylistically neutral term with no pejorative connotations whatsoever.
That’s when my son taught me that new term, and at first I couldn’t understand why my incorrectness was political. Moral or social perhaps, but what does politics have to do with anything? Another few seconds of contemplation, and I remembered that these days politics has something to do with everything.
I even recalled Thomas Mann’s saying, “All intellectual attitudes are latently political”, and thought he had a point. Anyway, though the term ‘political correctness’ was new to me, the underlying attitude wasn’t. My first job in the US was at NASA, and government outfits race ahead of the rest of the country towards what is now called wokery.
The personnel manager told me in no uncertain terms that my female colleagues were neither ‘women’ nor, especially, ‘girls’. They were ‘persons’, and if I called them anything less I’d get in trouble. I protested that, if I identified a woman in the next room as a ‘person’, my interlocutor wouldn’t know if was talking about a man or a woman.
The apparatchik explained that this wasn’t the point, although he fell short of telling me what the point was. Anyway, I learned how to circumvent that injunction by reserving the word ‘person’ for women only and referring to men as strictly ‘guys’ or ‘fellows’, thereby divesting them of their personhood but finding myself on safer grounds.
Then, some 15 years later, I emigrated to Britain and gratefully inhaled lungfuls of fresh air. By then (circa 1988) political correctness had got out of hand in the US, and some locutions in common British parlance would have been grounds for prosecution there.
Finally, I thought, a spot of sanity unsullied with the miasma of mandated verbal lunacy. Well, that didn’t last long.
Since I like to analyse social phenomena dynamically rather than statically, I’m usually more interested in trends than in the here and now. And the general trend I spotted was that all American perversions migrate to Britain sooner or later. This observation is ironclad, but it raises a question: sooner or later?
How long does it take the British to lap up the perverse crumbs falling off America’s table? (The tasty American bits find little demand here, as I’ve mentioned earlier.)
At that time, it took somewhere between ten and five years, with the lag steadily shifting towards the latter duration. Thus Britain gradually caught up with America in the wokery stakes, and then began to pull ahead, slowly. But then the Internet kicked in, and things began to accelerate exponentially.
Whatever gaps in lunacy existed between the two countries got to be filled within a year or two, then within a month or two, then within a couple of weeks – and now I’m happy to report that we don’t have to wait longer than several days if not hours for the shockwaves of American explosions to reach our shores.
The latest vindication of this observation comes from the scores of tents being pitched on university campuses across Britain, as they have been in America for some time. These encampments are tastefully decorated with Palestinian flags and all the usual placards. Leeds, Manchester, Sheffield, Newcastle, Warwick have all been taken over by pro-Hamas fanatics spewing hate.
Students at an academically awful Leeds University are refusing to say how long they are going to continue to occupy land around the university buildings. They pledge to remain “indefinitely”, until the university is “no longer complicit in the oppression of the Palestinian people and crimes against humanity”.
What they mean by such criminal complicity is their university accepting donations from firms even tangentially involved in arms manufacturing. After all, there’s no guarantee that those weapons won’t fall into the blood-stained hands of Israeli genocide mongers.
Of course, if universities no longer accept funding from technology firms, tuition fees may go up, which will be reason enough to stage more protests. One wonders how students find any time to study their subjects, even if these are conveniently fractured into moronic modules precluding any education worthy of the name.
No student protests would be complete without the accompaniment of death threats to Jews on campus, such as those that forced a Jewish chaplain at Leeds University into hiding, together with his whole family.
Jewish students are complaining about being “harassed and excluded”, which shows how little they understand the newly, if implicitly, amended British constitution. It proscribes racial or ethnic discrimination, except against Jews. It guarantees freedom of any religion, except Christianity. And it stipulates equality before the law, with favourable exemptions for members of putatively oppressed minorities.
I detect a direct link between these student camps and concentration camps, but I realise I’m in a distinct minority there. My only hope is that, having borrowed the idea of pro-Hamas encampments from their American counterparts, our students won’t also borrow the attendant violence.
Some such activities in the US have resulted in battles between pro-Hamas and pro-Israeli groups, but at least the American police still have the guts to do something about the tents. Hundreds of arrests have been made at Columbia, UCLA and elsewhere, with policemen clearing encampments and occupied buildings.
Our police are so far inert, looking at the tents with indifference and, if past such events are anything to go by, barely concealed sympathy. Who said police have to be immune to brainwashing? Not me.
If push comes to shove in Britain, the copycat situation could turn even worse than in the American original because of the much higher proportion of Muslim students here. I’ve once met a young Muslim who wasn’t sympathetic to the idea of murdering every Israeli (from the river to the sea). His name was Asif.
This is to say that their participation in riotous protests has to gravitate to 100 per cent. Relatively speaking, there are fewer Muslims on American campuses, although exponents of other religions or mostly none are doing their level best to take up the slack.
The upshot of this is obvious: follow American current events with attention, ladies and gentlemen. If there’s something you hate, brace yourself: a few days later it’ll come here.
This isn’t much of an advanced warning, but some. Better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick… but I’d better not develop this metaphor.
You’re welcome!
Egalitarian familiarity? I hate it when someone to whom I have not been properly introduced addresses me by my first name. I think most people feel it is a mark of friendliness so they happily accept it. I find it to be bad manners. I refer to any female as a girl if she is younger than me (most of them are at this point). Oops! Encampments? We all know what would happen if Trump supporters decide to make camp. Turn down money? UCLA medical school returned $3 million from Donald Sterling after he was found to have used “offensive” language in personal correspondence, so there is a precedent. Of course, increased tuition is not an issue for students hoping to get tuition relief from President Biden.
The latest trend in America is to send $100 to someone with the user name of BrianC. Let’s hope the British – and the rest of the world – follow suit.
You are that exception that proves the rule.
Penelope once had an interesting phone exchange with a young chap from the local council. He: May I speak with Mrs Boot? She: Speaking. He: What’s your name? She: Mrs Boot. He: But what shall I call you? She: You can call me Mrs Boot. The chap was so confused he forgot what the purpose of the call was.
And I once had an interesting experience with a male hospital nurse who was pushing my chair from the NHS wing, where I had been taken by the ambulance, to the private wing, where I was to be treated. While we were still in the former, it was ‘Alex, watch your foot, a turn coming’, ‘Alex’ this and ‘Alex’ that. The moment we crossed the line separating the two wings, I instantly became ‘Mr Boot’.
My father had two Christian names, his first name being Joseph and his second John. From infancy onwards, nobody who was permitted by consanguinity or friendship to call him by his Christian name called him anything but John, so it came as a surprise to him when, in old age, he was temporarily confined to an NHS hospital, to be addressed by all the doctors and nurses as “Joe”. He was unhappy about it but too scared to complain.
I recently had the experience of being addressed repeatedly by a middle-aged man behind a supermarket till as “pal”. In Glasgow it would merely have been rude, but in Market Rasen it was bizarre.
But the nice young lady who delivers Yodel parcels to me always calls me “my darling”, and I don’t mind that at all.
Good points Brian -sorry! Good points Mr C. Your cheque (check) is in the post (mail).