Porter’s Pensées

It pains me to say it, but on the ‘failure of multiculturalism’ in Britain Suella Braverman is essentially right. The upper classes never have integrated into the various cultures of the rest of Britain, or even tried to; by contrast with most of the foreign immigrants that Braverman seems to have had on her mind in her recent Washington speech (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrpAMttlIkQ).

Of course there are examples of Moslems, Jews and other cultural, national, religious or ethnic ‘identities’ deliberately keeping themselves apart from their British neighbours for years on end; but most of them have managed to ‘fit in’ quite comfortably in one way or another, with the cultures they brought with them surviving, but modified by their interactions with their hosts, and often – usually, I would say – enriching the latters’ cultures immeasurably. An obvious example is our culinary culture; but there are others too. (It isn’t widely known that fish and chips were introduced to England by a Dutch Jewish refugee.) The reason for this is that ‘national identity’ – Britain’s, at any rate – is not a static thing, set in aspic, essentially unchanging from (say) King Alfred’s time, and merely threatened by others, as Vladimir Putin seems to regard Holy Mother Russia’s; but always varied, disputed, changing: in other words alive, and all the more interesting and – usually – admirable for that. It certainly is to a historian. How dull, not to say inexplicable, would the history of Britain be otherwise? And change, and fertilisation by other cultures, are essential aspects of Britain’s ‘identity’ (or identities), as they are of most other nations’. We should rejoice in them.

The British upper classes, however, are different. If you want to know what an unassimilated minority looks like, they stand out far more obviously than any ‘racial’ group which is currently living in, or desirous of coming to, Britain. With their segregated schools, distinctive accents, snobbishness, peculiar customs, their own versions of history (vide Jacob Rees Mogg’s The Victorians), social exclusivity, class loyalties, arrogant avoidance of many of the laws and decencies that bind the rest of us (Bullingdon? Partygate?); here surely is an alien population living amongst us with no desire at all to integrate. As one popular slogan has put it, ‘It’s not the Estonians you should fear, but the Etonians.’

Of course they too started off as an immigrant wave, coming over the Channel in small (or smallish) boats in 1066. The difference is that these Norman newcomers stayed on only in order to dispossess and dominate the rest of us. None of our current immigrants and refugees is likely to do that. Unless, that is, they manage to assimilate with the settled upper classes – often via Eton and Winchester, or the Conservative Party – thus exchanging one form of ‘alienness’ for another. Braverman is one of those who has done this. I suppose one could consider that as an example of ‘multiculturalism’ that has ‘failed’.

In fact there is no such thing as a settled British (or even English, Scottish, Welsh or Irish) ‘identity’ or ‘culture’. My Britain’s Contested History. Lessons for Patriots (Bloomsbury, 2022) bears on this. Please buy a copy. (No-one else appears to have done.)

Rory Stewart – ex-Conservative MP (one of the decent ones) and also an Old Etonian (ditto) – writes this in his recent memoir, Politics on the Edge.

‘Campaigning back in Cumbria, I began to notice that if a house was filled with books, the occupants would not be voting Conservative.’

Coming from a Tory, I think that’s revealing. Élitist, of course, which is why a Leftist couldn’t write it; but probably true.

I must say I’m highly suspicious of this recent – albeit mild – fuss about Chinese espionage at the heart of UK government. In the first place, all countries ‘spy’ on each other, in one way or another, and always have done. (See my Plots and Paranoia.) Secondly: the present case – not yet brought to trial – appears to feature a humble ‘research assistant’ with connections, through his or her research, to some minor Tory politicians, who is unlikely to reveal anything that can’t be found out from reading, for example, Hansard, or other open sources in the public domain. Thirdly: isn’t this rather old-hat, reminiscent of the great age of popular spy novels and films (usually with a Cold War setting); and far less significant and scary in this post-secrecy age of CVTV cameras, computer hacking, social media and the rest, when we don’t expect anyone to be able to keep secrets, State or otherwise, any more? Maybe that’s why not more is being made of this. And fourthly: in the age when they did seem to be important, these revelations of foreign espionage were sometimes used to divert public attention away from other more important government failings and scandals; of which there are, of course, myriads today. No better scapegoat than a cunning yellow one.

One of these present scandals may be the extent of Russian covert interference in British politics, recently and currently. There’s a lot just now on Facebook about Russian oligarch millions funding the Conservative party and UKIP; which if true is clearly suspicious, and could be far more damaging to British national interests than anything a few Chinese ‘moles’ could do. We know that Brexit, for example, was considered to be good for Russia at the time. Wasn’t there supposed to be a government enquiry into this a couple of years ago, which should have reported by now? Whatever became of that?

Of course my suspicions may be over-influenced by the material that is allowed to get through to me by Facebook’s algorithms; which are why it’s so difficult to get to the bottom of almost anything these days. If, that is, there is a ‘bottom’.

My work on the late Victorian origins of the London Metropolitan Police Special Branch (The Origins of the Vigilant State, 1987) obviously familiarised me with the ‘Whitechapel Murders’, but not to any great depth, as ‘Jack the Ripper’ was the responsibility of the City police force, and not of the Met. Last night BBC2 carried a programme (I think it was a repeat) ‘reopening’ the case, by using more modern forensic procedures, and fronted by Emilia Fox of Silent Witness fame. It was interesting, but hardly ground-breaking in its conclusion that the ‘Ripper’ was one Aaron Kosminsky, an East European immigrant who lived in the area of the murders at the time. He’s been the main suspect for a while.

What surprised me was that no mention was made – unless I missed it – of Kosminsky’s identity not only as a recent Polish immigrant, but as a Jewish one; a fact that was supposed to be relevant at the time. Not, as you might think,  because of his race directly, but because the police authorities of the day feared that knowledge that he was Jewish might unleash violent anti-semitic riots in that part of London: the poorest part of the city, and already the focus of racist prejudice, directed against the recent flood of immigrants fleeing there from anti-Jewish pogroms in Russia and Poland. Evidence of this – again not mentioned in the programme – was that when graffiti attributing the murders to ‘the Jews’ appeared on the walls of the East End, the City police commissioner ordered that they be erased. This may have protected Kosminsky; and misdirected the popular suspicion into other areas, which included a member of the Royal Family, a visiting American, and a famous artist. These proved to be far more attractive targets for the sensationalist ‘yellow press’ of the day.

I’m still puzzled, however, why the programme made no mention of this. Could it be that ‘anti-semitism’ is such a delicate subject now, and so thoroughly ‘weaponised’, especially by the current Israeli government, that even the mention of a suspected Jewish dimension to a notorious 135-year old crime would have stained the BBC with this appalling prejudice. Or me, now I’ve brought it up again.

[Sorry again for the long silence. More medical issues, But I’m working on my promised recollections of my young days on the far edges of the Public school world, which I’ll post when I’ve finished them.]

Another long silence from me. Sorry. Medical again. I think the Creator was distracted when s/he designed the prostate. (It must have been a She, I think. Women don’t have them. And it probably serves us males right.)

In the meantime I’m thinking of having another go at the ‘Public’ schools. It must be obvious what has triggered this: the sudden re-emergence in British politics of some of the worst but also most characteristic of their products over the last ten years. Cameron, Boris, Jacob – Old Etonians all; followed by a Wykehamist, a dozen others from ‘minor’ Public schools, and a sprinkling from Grammar schools that enviously aped them. As well as inspiring me, the phenomenon has provoked a small flood of books about the Public schools over the last few years –  most of them critical, some utterly damning, as you can tell from their titles – which I’m wading through just now. I quoted from Musa Okwonga’s excellent One of Them in an earlier post. I’m presently into Kynaston and Green’s Engines of Privilege; to be followed by Robert Verkaik’s Posh Boys; Richard Beard’s Sad Little Men; David Turner’s The Old Boys; Martin Steven’s The English Public School… and there are still more to come. I have these books on my mobile phone, so can read them in hospital on Thursday, while I’m waiting for tests. (Hopefully only for a day. I’m not anticipating anything serious.)

But I thought I’d kick off (later) by recounting my own experiences, years ago, at one of those ‘envious’ Grammar schools; and then at Cambridge, where I first came into contact with the genuine Public School crowd. As you’ll see, I found them friendly, in a patronising sort of way, and amusing. But then (in the sixties) we all thought they were on the way out. How wrong we were.

I once – or it may have been twice – wrote to Eton College to ask about its History syllabus: mainly in order to find out what may have lain behind the version of British history presented in the Old Etonian Brexiter Jacob Rees-Mogg’s The Victorians: Twelve Titans who Forged Britain, published in 2019 to almost universal derision. I got no reply from Eton (surprise, surprise!); and so remained with only my suspicions of how it must have been; until I came across this memoir by another Old Etonian, which confirmed those suspicions to the hilt. It’s written by a man of Ugandan heritage, and is well worth reading for its unique account of how Eton appeared to someone who couldn’t be considered to be one of its normal (upper-class white) clientele. The book is One of Them, by Musa Okwonga, and is by no means as critical you might expect. But this passage on the British history he was taught at Eton told me all I needed to know. (And felt familiar to me, having been educated at a school which wasn’t a proper ‘Public’ one, but aspired to be.)

Here’s what he writes (around p.44).

“Given the importance of history, I find it interesting to reflect on what I was taught about Britain at school, as well as what I wasn’t. Upon leaving, if someone had asked me what I knew about the British  Empire, I would probably have told them that the country of my birth had long ruled the world through a heady mix of commerce and conquest. Had I been asked about the details of that conquest, my answers would have been uncertain. I wouldn’t have been able to tell them much, if anything, about Partition or the Opium Wars or the scramble for Africa or the trade of enslaved people, because I covered those pivotal historical events in little or no depth. I therefore grew up with a somewhat hazy sense of the British Empire; it was an edifice as distant grand and unknowable to me as the statues of Easter Island. The conflict in Uganda was already so protracted that there was little discussion of the colonial power that had destabilised my parents’ country long before and had given it its present-day form. But Britain’s imperial machinations were never lost on my grandfather, who once told me in an ominous tone – one that demanded no further clarification – The last man on Earth will be an Englishman.

“It is not as if I am not taught much about Britain. I learn about when Julius Caesar and William the Conqueror invaded the island and about when its barons forced the king to submit with the Magna Carta. I learn about the struggle to resist the influence of the Continent, its stand-off with the Vatican. I spend far more time studying Britain’s role in the end of slavery than its prominent role in promoting and profiting from this uniquely lucrative system of human suffering. In my view, my country was primarily the great liberator, not the cruel subjugator. I could reel off all kinds of facts about how terrifying the Vikings were, but if someone had asserted that the British could be similarly barbaric and on a far greater scale, then at first I might have been very defensive.

“The Britain about which I learn is either heroic abroad or beset by internal turbulence or doing its very best to repel external threats. My Britain is a victim and yet somehow ruling and never being enslaved; it is being free and then breaking further free; a plucky underdog or the victor of fair fights; a reluctant and dignified winner of the rough and tumble of global politics. My Britain is quiet and unassuming, yet somehow stumbled upon the possession of all this territory abroad, a bumbling traveller who wandered about the world and just happened to come home with the lion’s share of its wealth.

“The only time I examine the sustained savagery of which Britain has been capable is during one of my specialist subjects in my final year. Here I look at the First Crusade, whose harrowing climax – the slaughter of Jews and Muslims by Christians at the siege of Jerusalem – fundamentally reshapes the way I look at the Middle East. I begin to see that Britain is not an innocent actor in so many of these scenarios but a much more sophisticated player than I ever imagined.

“It will still be a few years until I find out what else Britain did – about the Amritsar massacre and the Bengal famine and the eviction of the people of the Chagos Islands and the suppression of the Mau Mau, many of whose resistance of British rule was punished by their castration with pliers. It will be even longer until I learn about Operation Legacy, the British government’s carefully orchestrated destruction of the bulk of the records of what it did in colonial times, so that the countries recently released from its rule would not know the extent of its deeds.”

We went to a jazz performance the other evening in a pub back garden in Lidköping (Sweden). ‘Trad’, and pretty good. Also well attended – a couple of hundred at least.

But …. nearly all of us, musicians and audience, were elderly, and male. A sea of grey heads and beards. I’ve found the same in the UK; and even in New Orleans where I visited once, and was greatly disappointed to find most of the musical pubs blaring out amplified pop music into those famous streets – Frenchmen, Bourbon, Basin, Beale…. Eventually I found one with a proper jazz band (I bought their CD); but when the leader asked us where we all came from, only one was a local. The rest were Canadians, Bostonians or Europeans. And grey-haired, again.

Was I just unlucky? Or has jazz, in all its genres, become an old man’s kind of music exclusively, picked up in the fifties and sixties when it was for the trendy young, and now supplanted by pop music – and so bound to disappear when most of us oldies have died off? What a tragedy for such a glorious musical heritage, if so.

By contrast, last night we attended an outdoor performance of Verdi’s Macbeth in a 17^th-century castle – much like the mediaeval Scottish castles I’ve visited, and so an apt setting for this (literally) bloody opera. I’m not a great Verdi fan (and of Macbeth least of all – no tunes); but it was a superb production; and the audience only about 20% grey-heads. Lots of youngsters there; indicating, perhaps, that classical opera has a brighter future ahead of it, at least in Sweden, than does jazz. 

Dickens’s Gradgrind would surely have approved of Rishi Sunak. And of the less familiar Orcadian Samuel Laing the Elder, whom I discovered and then wrote about in the historical journal Albion, thirty years ago. (The essay is recycled in my Britain Before Brexit, chapter 5.) Laing was a quintessential Victorian philistine; as of course was the fictional Thomas Gradgrind.

I’m thinking here of course of Sunak’s recent policy statement, that ‘low value’ university courses should be abolished or ‘capped’. By ‘low value’ he means courses that don’t materially profit those who take them. ‘Under his plans, the Office for Students (OfS) will be asked to limit the student numbers on courses seen to fail to deliver good outcomes – including on future earnings potential.’ At present, ‘people are being taken advantage of with low-quality courses that don’t lead to a job that makes it worth it – leaves them financially worse-off.’ (That’s a direct quote from Sunak.)

Which is OK if you think that the only purpose of a university education is to maximise your earnings or profits after it. But most of us who have actually taught in universities regard it quite differently. Universities have far more extensive agendas: broadening minds, stimulating critical thinking, introducing young people to matters beyond the ‘practical’, and so contributing to the quality as well as the profitability of personal and national life. As a by-product, they may maximise wealth in unexpected ways – look at the contributions that many ‘Arts’ graduates have indirectly made to the Exchequer. But that is emphatically not their purpose.

In the broad if uneven advance of ‘late’ capitalism, which seems to be the main underlying trend of British and world history at the present time (and is a running theme of this whole blog), non-utilitarian education, together with the arts, could be seen as capitalism’s final frontier: the fortress to be scaled and destroyed in order to complete the victory of the market and its values. Rishi must be looking forward to that. And Gradgrind chortling happily in his grave.

Sorry for the further delay. My medical problem is still holding me up. (No, I’m not going to tell you what it is! Slightly embarrassing.) But I should be able to resume blogging soon.

In the meantime I wonder how the climate-change deniers are reacting to the current terrible global heat-wave. ‘Nothing abnormal.’ ‘It’s happened before.’ ‘Don’t interfere.’ ‘Trust to nature’…?

In fact trusting to nature (or to a benevolent God) could be at the root of many of our problems today. Earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and pandemics are ‘natural’ too. As are financial crises, trade depressions and the like.

Which is the best argument against the neo-liberal way of looking at political economy. Laissez-faire, or the free market, doesn’t conduce to the good of all. Those who believed it did, from the nineteenth century onwards, were in hock to a notion as foolish as the belief that God (or nature) would take care of everything. In other words, it’s based on a great leap of blind faith, and not on logic. And a very convenient leap, of course, if it means you don’t need to put yourself out, and do anything.

I wonder how many climate-change deniers are neo-liberals too? Ex-Chancellor Nigel Lawson I know is one… Do the two ideologies go together?

And – very incidentally – neither nature nor God is solving my medical condition. For that I’m depending on state intervention – in this case from the excellent Swedish health service.

If he had not been so controversially dismissed on Sunday, Johnny Bairstow might possibly have won the match for England. He would probably have had the necessary 42 runs in him, which the tail-enders didn’t.

But that isn’t the important thing. Quite apart from its effect on the result of the game, the nature of YJB’s dismissal has sullied an Ashes series that was developing – whoever the ultimate victor – into one of the best of modern times. I’m one of those old-fashioned cricket fans who admire the game for its ‘spirit’; against which the Aussies clearly offended by not withdrawing their appeal. For me, the remainder of the series will now be inevitably devalued.

But: am I necessarily a worse human being for being more angered by this incident – albeit hopefully only momentarily – than by Putin’s invasion of the Ukraine?

(American readers may not understand. I’m afraid the US won its independence before cricket was firmly rooted there. I see that the modern US has a national team, but mostly made up of people with south Asian names. – I wonder whether the idea of ‘sportsmanship’ – ‘it’s just not cricket’ – has the same purchase there that it used to have in the UK? Obviously not in the GOP.)