BULLSHIT INDICATORS

I wish to confess a favourite fantasy. I have always dreamed of having a huge wall-mounted neon sign that could be programmed to flash the word “Bullshit!” whenever it heard certain words or expressions. Naturally the triggers would be chosen and pre-loaded by me. I call them (unimaginatively) bullshit indicators.  No bullshit indicator is infallible but some go pretty close.

I first developed this fantasy in the late 1970s when I worked in the Victorian Public Service. It was the word “community” that first got my goat. It began appearing in the titles of lobby groups which exemplified what has been defined as the arrogance of the social worker: “I’m here on earth to help others. What the others are here for I don’t know.” Reflecting on the usages of “community” led me to generalise about language usage in public discourse and I concluded that to find the intention behind public language go first to its opposite. “Corrections” in the title of an institution means, inevitably, “punishing while making no effort to correct”. “Community” pretends to describe a grass roots movement. In fact it almost always refers to something imposed on the grass roots by elements of the half-educated middle class. My favourite American, HL Mencken, said  “The urge to save humanity is almost always a false front for the urge to rule.”  

These days I think the most blatant and widespread bullshit indicator is “natural”. It is used to describe everything from laundry detergents, to quack remedies and is always a lie if only because it implies an absolutely false distinction between “things produced by human agency” and “things produced by non-human agency”. Thus today’s Greenshirts are guilty of the same anthropocentrism that they accuse everyone else of.  More guilty, in fact. Cholera is natural.  Leprosy, cancer, anencephaly, malaria, murder, rape, the Liberal Party, AIDS, Redcraze’s defeat in the 1956 Melbourne Cup - all occurred in nature. In fact nothing can occur out of nature. If it exists it is part of the natural world.

My own list of bullshit indicators, of course (I nearly wrote “naturally!”) reflects my own prejudices. I would be interested to know what words serve as similar triggers for other people.

BOOK REVIEW: Skagboys, by Irvine Welsh

Some years ago I saw the film of Trainspotting. Subsequently I read the novel and much preferred it to the film.  Now I've just finished reading Skagboys, a prequel to the earlier book.

These novels are written mostly in Scots dialect (a term that is probably ideologically unacceptable but who cares). One effect of this is to force an Antipodean reader like me to read slowly and carefully, almost sounding out the words in my head. Partly for that reason and partly because Irvine Welsh is a very fine writer the events of the novel are heard almost as much as read. The result is a vivid account of the lives of junkies - unjustified optimism, degradation, euphoria, false hope, disillusionment, betrayal and more degradation.

When I was young many of my friends and acquaintances were heroin users. I never tried it myself: whether that was from cowardice or good sense I no longer know. Perhaps I just preferred alcohol, a foible which was viewed with tolerant condescension in those circles. In any case, the memory of that time gives me an interesting perspective on Skagboys.  

I was always amused by the degree of snobbery that was characteristic of junkies.  Many heroin users looked down on people who restricted themselves to acid or dope.  “At least heroin’s a physical drug.  It only affects the body.  I’m not going to take something that stuffs up my mind.”  As Monty Python would have said, “It’s all this Cartesian dualism that’s to blame!” It was the same kind of snobbery that was apparent, in wider social circles,  in music styles or clothing brands. Interestingly, the junkies in Skagboys don’t mix with potheads or acid freaks so the phenomenon that I observed isn’t visible here. Neither is the unspoken degradation competition that resulted from junkies measuring themselves against famous musicians or, less commonly, writers.  “Great artists are tormented souls, alienated from conventional society. I’m tormented and alienated; therefore I’m a great artist. However I’m more degraded than you so I am the greater artist.” The closest to this in Welsh’s novel is that some of the characters fancy themselves as musicians, though their musical careers don’t amount to much. I must also say (to prove that junkies aren’t the only snobs) that the main character’s taste in music is deplorable.

One of the saddest things about junkies - in real life and in Skagboys - is the degree to which their moral sense becomes subordinate to their addiction. In life I knew one or two honourable exceptions, but the characters in the novel are more typical. They hold out on their colleagues, steal from their families and pimp out their girlfriends. And yet, both in life and in fiction, I never found myself able to condemn them totally. It’s as if we make two simultaneous moral estimates of them. “Nice bloke, bad junkie.”  “I like him, but I wouldn’t turn my back on him.“

Anyway, read the book. Some scenes will make you laugh aloud, though most will make you cringe. A lot like life, really.

My Dad's Army

Some years before my father died a document circulated among some of his friends from the Second World War. It was a transcript of a radio programme from early 1943, a series of interviews with members of his unit, including Dad himself, recorded after the horrendous Buna - Sananada fighting in which they had participated. Because of wartime secrecy, the unit - the 2/12 Australian Infantry Battalion - was not identified. For a link to the transcript scroll to the bottom of this post.

As well as  my father, some of the men interviewed here were intermittent characters in my childhood and youth. It’s a strange feeling to read this text and come across familiar names and idioms.  In a prefatory note to The Middle Parts of Fortune (the best novel of the First World War) the author, Frederic Manning wrote “...in recording the conversations of the men I seemed at times to hear the voices of ghosts.”

Leo Gardner (1918-2004)

There are army terms used in the transcript that might be unfamiliar to some readers. “MT” is “Motor Transport”, “sig” is “signaller”, “draw the crabs” means “attract enemy fire”, “C O” is “commanding officer”. If anybody has any questions on this or any other aspect of the transcript I will happily attempt to answer them.

Reflecting on these interviews leads me to try and clarify my thoughts about how we remember various wars and the men who fought in them. That is a matter for a later post. For now all I will say is that I am scornful of ill-informed and mawkish displays of public sentimentality. I can hardly do better than to quote Frederic Manning again.

“War is waged by men; not by beasts, or by gods. It is a peculiarly human activity. To call it a crime against mankind is to miss at least half of its significance; it is also the punishment of a crime.”

Link to transcript

THE JOYS OF PARANOIA

Here goes for the second day of my blogging career. And they said it wouldn’t last.

I’m still feeling my way about the process and as I learn to grope my way around the design site I’ll be making a number of changes, some of them intentional.

As a guide to my own obsessions I’ve added a list of other blogs that I follow. If that is a breach of ethics convention  blogiquete  good manners I’ll be happy to apologise.

Please feel free to leave comments in the space below. My aim is to reply to them all.

There is no idea so stupid that nobody will believe it (although, as George Orwell said, there are some things so ridiculous that only an intellectual will believe them). Have a look, for instance, at the Flat Earth Society http://www.theflatearthsociety.org/ . Now whether these people genuinely believe what they say or are only pulling our legs, I don’t know. One piece of evidence that they are genuine loonies is the word “globularist” that they toss around so blithely. It’s my opinion that if you want to be a genuine fanatic it helps to have an “...ist” word as an all-purpose term of abuse meaning “a person whose opinions differ from mine”. Some words ending in “ism” or “ist”  may once have had a meaning (“racist” for example) but mostly they have been so contorted by years of bubbling out of the mouths of imbeciles that they no longer serve any good purpose.  When I become dictator I will announce my own coined word: “ismist”, meaning “a person who coins a word ending in “ism” or “ist” to foster the illusion that his opponents are dickheads.  What’s more, I’ll make my word compulsory. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

As well as becoming the scourge of the ismists I have plans to come down heavily on the use of the word “denier”, meaning not a unit of measurement for nylon stockings but - you guessed it- “a person whose opinions differ from mine”.

Do you know the Young Earth Creationists?  Have look at ‘em at http://youngearth.com/ !!! The examples they use to prove their point are hilarious. And while they don’t, as far as I can see, have an ism word (a serious blow to their credibility) they do have a catch phrase which can be dropped into every ritualistic denunciation of their opponents. It is “biased old-earth”. So we have “biased old-earth Wikipedia” or “the biased old-earth community”. This reminds me of the good old days when the Communist Party split into two factions: on the one hand the Communist Party of Australia (Marxist Leninist), which was essentially Ted Hill and three blokes from the pub; on the other  the Communist Party of Australia (everybody else). Ted Hill could never utter or write the official name of his tormentors. To him they were always “the Aarons revisionist clique”.

There are a few good indicators that a theory is bunkum. They are not infallible but they are a pretty good guide.

• When a theory is no longer able to appeal to a rational mind it changes its name. Thus  creationism becomes intelligent design; global warming becomes climate change.
• When the number of pop singers and film stars espousing a cause reaches a critical level (it’s three, by the way) the cause deserves to be laughed at. It will come as no surprise that I’m a big fan (or as my mate Donald would say, “A yuge fan”) of the Chinese occupation of Tibet.

KIERKEGAARD SYNDROME

I once read that Soren Kierkegaard got upset when he was described as the greatest philosopher in Denmark. Apparently he thought that such faint praise didn't do him justice. I hope the story is true. It's the most endearing thing I've ever heard about him. For years now I've kept an eye out for examples of what I call Kierkegaard Syndrome  - people or institutions that are described in a similar way, as big frogs in very small ponds.

Adelaide, where I now live, is rich in examples of this cultural phenomenon and I hope to post some from time to time. This morning, for instance I came upon the following:

Now "Adelaide's Premier Rope Supplier" is, on the face of it, a pretty lame claim to fame, although you might argue that South Australia's proud record of exotic murders gains it a little more credibility.
A mile or so down the road is:

The "West Side" in this context doesn't mean a sophisticated retail precinct but the extremely dull western suburbs of Adelaide. The sign (and its attached shop) are in an ordinary suburban street. The boast so proudly displayed is unlikely to be challenged.

One of my Sydney correspondents (thanks, V!) recently told me that she saw Mitchell Johnson's (presumably ghosted) autobiography advertised on a bus stop as "The most eagerly awaited cricket biography of 2016!". That surely counts,  the average cricket biography being hardly more cutting edge than a rank-and-file Danish philosopher.

So you see the pattern. Please send me any examples that come to your attention.

I have a couple of other syndromes to reveal when the time is ripe. Parker Syndrome, for instance, almost universal among journalists, first came to me years ago while I was watching McHale's Navy. Stay tuned.