It's something particular about being British. English, especially, though it applies to an extent to all varieties of the British species. It is the belief that British people, above all English people, are never really bad. Bad people come from other places: Russia, Germany, Balkan places; China, Japan, South America, Africa. While English people can be a little bit naughty, but never really bad.
This is one of the humbling elements I have discovered while becoming more aware of what it means to be born English. I wrote previously about how I grew up with the sense subtly instilled that Britain was just slightly superior to the rest of the world. There is a corollary in degrees of beastliness. While the rest of humanity may indulge in all manner of horror, genocide, and the rest, the English, in particular, don't go in for that. We are just too decent, too rational, for that kind of thing.
It's a blind spot inculcated from early on, and very convenient for certain types of folk. It gives a psychological carte blanche to all manner of horribleness to pass unscrutinised. We go around in a collective unconscious fug. Come from Colombia, as does my wife, and it's a different story. Colombians can do unspeakable horrors to other Colombians. It's known; everybody knows it; and at least the place runs its shaky course under the umbrella of a degree of honesty.
The assumptions leak into considerations of 'general health of society'. Whilst other nations suffer tyrants, oppression, and so on, we Brits live in a free, open, transparent world. Not really true. I have thus far been able to write this blog without censure, and I suppose it's preferable to find your website unceremoniously closed down or your facebook account stopped rather than having Joseph Stalin's henchmen come knocking at the door. Nevertheless, the topics and points of view considered unacceptable or unspeakable at the bus stop has increased enormously over recent decades. Much of the comedy created in the 1960s, 70s, and 80s which is actually funny would not be made today. Could not be made today. Forbidden. So when I mutter about 1984 and Animal Farm when it comes to Britain and much western Europe, I mean it seriously. We do not live in free and open times. Not really. The genius lies in creating a censored society without many of its inhabitants even realising it.
Part Two
On the home front at least ('foreign affairs' are another thing) overt viciousness is a little out of fashion. In the long run it doesn't get you many votes. Instead, and what could sadden me the most, we are confronted with a public British display of abject stupidity.
Being abjectly stupid in your own home is, I suppose, your prerogative. However, there are folk a-plenty who actually make a living out of being crass and idiotic in public. They can be found within the 'mainstream media', often beneath the banner of 'Comment' or 'Opinion'.
I go to mainstream media occasionally. I never go for long - never. Should I spend three minutes in its largely toxic company, it will normally be the most negative three minutes of the day. In the event that I should indulge in vestigial masochism and go there, what do I find?
Abject stupidity number one:
In the Telegraph online of 21/8/18, there was the following article, written by one Tom Fordy: 'Tom Daley becoming the new face of Pampers is a baby step in the right direction for equality.'
For anyone who knows even less about babies than me, 'Pampers' are nappies for babies.
Now, if Pampers wish to choose a 'gay dad' as their face of the moment, that is their prerogative. Tom Daley is not a father, though. My dictionary defines 'parent' as 'The material or source from which something is derived.' We could get metaphorical, and refer to Tom as 'father' the same way that I could talk about fathering this article. But, in general terms, while he may turn out to be an excellent looker-after of a baby, he is not its father.
This is the modern way, and it's very 1984. Manipulating language and the meanings of words in order to shape the public perception of reality. Call Tom Daley a father frequently enough, in the hope that folk eventually see no difference between him and anybody else in the parenthood stakes. We're all the same. Exactly the same. This is the trick which is being attempted. And this is what is meant by 'equality' in the article heading. It is another manipulation of meaning. 'Equality' in this case doesn't really mean equality. It has been subtly morphed into 'sameness'. Or, following Neil Kramer, into anonymous, uniform blob-hood.
There is just one little problem here. My studies of biology have revealed an inconvenient truth. You see, men and women are different, in quite fundamental ways. They are built differently. Relevantly to Tom Daley and Pampers, women are able to become pregnant, carry a tiny human being within their own body for nine months, providing it shelter and nourishment, until finally giving birth. A man, however, does none of these things. He does his initial bit - which might last an embarrassingly short length of time - and then has done. He might support the pregnant woman excellently, but his function is not the same. Not at all.
All of which goes to suggest that a mother's relationship to her baby might typically be a little different to that of the father. Hers might be, most naturally, a bit more physical, bodily, flesh and blood, er, Pamperish.
Anyhow, you'll be relieved to hear that I've taken on this equality (read 'sameness') of the sexes on board. I am setting out to demonstrate solidarity with my sisters across the globe. One inconvenient difference between the sexes is how, once a month roughly, the female of the species, at least if she is of child-bearing age, undergoes the messy and sometimes painful process of menstruating. The fact that men fail to do similarly is surely an affront to our noble quest for equality and blobby-hood. We males should undergo something similar. So, for four days every month, I shall be sporting sanitary towels inside my underpants. Sticky-side up. Not very sexy, but these things must be done. Don't be surprised if I am adopted as the new face of Bodyform.
And as if that's not enough...…
Abject stupidity number two.
Part Three
There's going to be a new Doctor Who. This October. On television. And the new Doctor is going to take on the form of woman.
You can make Doctor Who a woman if you want. You can make the good doctor an armadillo for all I care. But these things always have to be topped by some abject stupidity. Here we go.....
The new Doctor Who is going to be played by Jodie Whittaker. Here she is, speaking about her new role: 'The thing about this role …. is that essentially gender is irrelevant and that's completely liberating.'
I watched Doctor Who avidly in the 1960s. Since then, it's been pretty cursory. That said, it doesn't take a lot to keep track of the different manifestations.
Over the decades, Doctor Who seems to have maintained a certain style beneath the changes. An approach, an attitude, which marks him out as the Doctor. A way of seeing the world which combines reason, intuition, matter-of-factness, sometimes grumpiness, and a splash of genius that comes from somewhere else altogether. It's a package which I can't help but identify as, well, rather masculine. Eccentrically so, but masculine nevertheless.
A good deal of the magic surrounding the Doctor issues from his communication with his various companions. Especially his female companions. In its best moments, it is like the alchemist with his soror mystica, creating magic in the laboratory. There's a kind of sexual chemistry. It's quite subtle: not a 'Shall we do it in the Tardis?' type of sexual rapport. But a spark between male and female - a spark which, I suspect, comes with the interplay between two different ways of experiencing the world. That's really what we mean by 'sexual chemistry'. And, Jodie's pronouncements notwithstanding, that's all gonna change.
I'm not saying that it won't work. There is the female alchemist, after all, who has her frater mystico. Maybe it will be great in a different way. But it's just that 'gender is irrelevant' is stupid. Abjectly so.
That's more than enough. Clearly, three minutes a day in the company of the mainstream is three minutes too much for me.....
