“I can’t believe how this is being spun. It’s mindblowing…” Thus spake Jordan B Peterson, the Canadian psychology professor, as the United Kingdom’s vast and mighty opinion factories – the dark, Satanic mills of William Blake’s fevered imaginings – began to vomit forth their responses to a Channel Four interview which had covered the gender pay gap, free speech and for some reason the neurobiology of lobsters. It took about forty-eight hours for the First Response Team’s idea that wisdom had met waffle and vanquished it to be buried beneath a thousand tons of hysterical shrieking nonsense, in which JBP had apparently perpetrated a live-on-air hate crime and basically incited violence against Channel Four and its blameless, quivering employees. From St George to dragon in two days. Welcome to Britain.
It may not be so obvious to North Americans – we are, after all, small and distant and our time is mostly taken up with tea-based self-medication for the depression occasioned by our cuisine and climate – but Britain’s culture wars are as intense as anything on offer in the New World. We have a thousand-year head-start on our former colonies, and long practice has enabled us to entrench our battle lines at every frontier where such lines are capable of being drawn, from the old classics like class, religion and political affiliation to more recent favourites such as sex, race, profession, which way you voted in the EU Referendum, broadband speeds in your local area and your views on the Atkins diet. Remember that Thomas Hobbes, the seventeenth century philosopher who assumed that society was a hellish and eternal war between everyone and everyone else, was an Englishman: ‘nuff said. Read more
And they’re off! The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland goes to the polls yet again on June 8th, delighting the electorate so much that GPs across the country have reported a 400% increase in furtive inquiries about antidepressants. Many opposition MPs are taking the line that the Prime Minister has her eye not on the national interest but on opinion polls which portend the kind of victory more usually associated with Roman legions against some primitive tribe armed with sharpened turnips – although they have been unable to explain why, then, all but thirteen of them voted in Parliament in favour of the Prime Minister’s proposal to go to the country.
The truth is far more simple: after the Scottish referendum in 2014, the general election in 2015 and the EU referendum in 2016, the political establishment has developed an addiction. No doubt there will be another vote in 2018 on the EU exit terms, followed by a general election in 2019 to confirm the referendum result, then the Scots again in 2020. Soon one might as well be living in Switzerland, where there are daily referenda on which day of the week it is. To save you the trouble of reading any of the wretched election literature, therefore, or even god forbid watching the party political broadcasts, here is the JWC’s guide to your main choices. Read more
Huge thanks to Joey Kemper and Jon Fann, who were kind enough to share with us their discovery of a genuine eighteenth century John Wilkes commemorative medallion found in an undisturbed road bed in Virginia, about 25 miles outside Richmond. Wilkes fans will know that Uncle Jack was tremendously popular in America, where his battles against arbitrary authority and unconstitutional government in the 1760s and ‘70s struck a chord at a time when the colonies were beginning to do the same, as they faced a series of measures by the same ministry which would ultimately lead to the Revolution and the Declaration of Independence.
Until the Revolution, however, the dispute was not seen as Britain vs America, since those were not yet separate ideas – rather, Patriots on both sides of the water saw themselves as citizens of an Empire who objected to the political direction which they perceived the Empire to be taking. Wilkes’ various victories over the establishment – in the courtroom, in parliament and on the streets – were celebrated by Patriot societies throughout Britain and the colonies, particularly after his release from prison in 1770, which marked his victory over the notion that parliament could vote down the electors’ choice of representative – a principle that was later encoded in the American constitution. Read more
Somewhere or other (you don’t get proper footnotes at this time of year) Karl Popper urged anyone masochistic enough to be reading his stuff to guard against the fashionable disease of our time, viz.- the assumption that things can not be taken at their face value, that an apparent syllogism must be the rationale of an irrational motive, that our choices necessarily conceal some self-seeking ghastliness. It’s a reasonable guess that this warning was part of his well-known criticism of Freudian psychology as bad pseudo-science, and in the year of Brexit and Trump it assumes a particular relevance, as the usual carnival of commentators, analysts, pundits, think-tankers and other ‘experts’ queue up to add their own fluid ounce of pseudo-science to the already deep and sulphurous ocean of jejune rationalisations which, we suppose, keeps them and their kind in lucrative employment.
The British voters wanted to leave the European Union, and their American cousins wanted Donald Trump to be president. Just that. They were not expressing a complicated series of half-understood emotional responses to globalisation or economic change or multiculturalism or anything else – emotions which, lest they fall easy prey to something called ‘populism’, call for urgent analysis by credentialed social psychiatrists who have brought themselves to believe that observing and analysing their fellow citizens like specimens in a vivarium is somehow a legitimate form of intellectual inquiry, as opposed to (a) a bloody impertinence and (b) a manifestation of precisely the kind of social order which is being emphatically rejected. Read more
This week’s coup d’état in the High Court – in which some oleaginous tort-wallopers revealed to a fascinated electorate that the best way to implement voters’ instructions is to put them in the hands of a bunch of chancers who have publicly declared that they intend to ignore their instructions entirely – is hardly a new development in the long, grubby annals of English law. As John Wilkes wrote 253 years ago:
“The most eminent lawyers have been fee’d, to find mistakes and flaws in patents, granted for the security of the liberties of the subject, and which for ages have been esteemed not only valid but even sacred.”
The North Briton, No. 37, February 12 1763.
The courts are only a branch of the state after all: why should they be more likely than any other branch to respect the people whom they ‘serve’? Read more
There are few ways to spend a Bank Holiday Monday more worthwhile than in the footsteps of some eighteenth century hellraisers. Quite apart from anything else, it reminds us that the unlamented Bullingdon cabal so recently dragged from public office and sent back to the Cotswolds were in reality mere parvenus – smashing pianos and throwing wine bottles at scholarship swots or whatever it is that the Bullingdon gets up to, not to mention that thing with the pig, would have struck the well-born and well-connected of earlier and nobler times as rather meek ways of letting one’s hair down.
We are talking, of course, about the notorious Hellfire Club of Sir Francis Dashwood, or more accurately the Order of the Friars of St Francis of Wycombe: ‘Hellfire Club’ was, in fact, a generic name given to an exclusive private society got up by a clique of sporting fellows for the purposes of drinking like pirates, dining like ogres, entertaining young women of negotiable virtue and generally giving the local vicar cause to suspect that he may not be getting his message across. Read more