Wokery kills

One would think that the job of our saintly NHS is to delay death for as long as possible. True enough, treating patients is still one of its tasks. But not the only one – and perhaps not even the most important one.

For, as the good book tells us, you can’t be a servant to two masters. Hence the NHS has to put its true master, the state, before patients. And when its master’s commands are in conflict with patients’ health, there can be only one winner.

It’s from such premises that the latest outrage committed by the NHS can be properly understood. You see, the state has willed that all its servants heroically join its war on culture, tradition and indeed sanity.

The NHS is no exception. Thus, when the other day I walked through the good offices of Chelsea & Westminster Hospital, I saw that the walls of its atrium were tastefully decorated with vast murals depicting happy patients.

Every patient in every mural was some hue of black, which doesn’t exactly reflect the demographics of either Chelsea or Westminster, two of the most exclusive areas of London. But the murals have nothing to do with demographics. They are bullets fired in the culture war.

That wall art, however, may annoy, but it’s unlikely to kill, although I’m sure that the sight made my diastolic blood pressure jump up 20 points. Yet the NHS web pages on ovarian, womb and cervical cancers are something else again.

They offer public information alerting women to the dangers and encouraging them to make early detection possible. That’s a noble, life-saving objective, but achieving it involves the same general principles that apply to crass commercialism.

One such principle is making sure that the information works as a sniper rifle, not a scattergun. It should be precisely targeted to the intended recipient, effectively saying, “Look! It’s you I’m talking to, and what I’m saying is important.”

Thus a web page warning women about their deadly diseases should instantly and unequivocally identify women as its target. But there, as that pre-progressive writer put it, is the rub.

For, according to the government diktat, the use of the word ‘woman’ is actively discouraged, if not yet banned outright. Hence the pages in question are deliberately vague about their target. Talking about cancers that afflict only women, they expurgate the word from the text.

Thus, they used to say that ovarian cancers are “the most common types of cancer in women”. Now they say: “Anyone with ovaries can get ovarian cancer.”

Womb cancer used to “affect the female reproductive system”. Now it’s “cancer that affects the womb”.

Cervical cancer used to “develop in a woman’s cervix”. Now it’s “found anywhere in the cervix”.

You’d think that, though such woke equivocation is annoying, it’s hardly misleading. But you’d think wrong.

For the state has more than one prong in its frontal attack on culture, tradition and sanity. Its main thrust is education, thoughtfully designed to render people unable to read and understand English properly.

Hence a recent review showed that 42 per cent of adults were unable to understand even the most basic medical terminology.

This means that almost half of all women visiting that web page might not know that ‘ovaries’ and ‘cervix’ have anything to do with them. Their attention wasn’t drawn to the word ‘woman’ that would have the effect of saying: “Hey, it’s you I’m talking to.”

Another prong of the government offensive is runaway immigration, ideally from underdeveloped parts of the world. This is designed to dilute the demographic strata likely to resist brainwashing indoctrination.

Hence 60 per cent of London’s population don’t list English as their first language. Many such women may still understand ‘woman’, but ‘cervix’, ‘ovaries’ and ‘womb’ may well take them out of their depth. They will then go to another website, ideally one with more pictures than words.

I don’t know how many lives would be saved if health rather than wokery were the focus of such public information. Possibly many. Definitely some.

But the god of culture war is a jealous god, and he is athirst. He’s ready to smite not only culture, tradition and sanity, but actual people.

This little story isn’t the aetiology of the disease, but merely a clinical picture of its symptoms. There are many such clinical pictures and many different symptoms.

But the ultimate victims aren’t only culture, tradition and sanity – and not just individual people. It’s our moribund civilisation, desperately trying to survive, but failing every step of the way, bleeding out pinprick by pinprick.

So repeat after me the slogan thrust down our throats during the Covid pandemic: “Thank you, NHS!”