Monthly Archives: August 2009

Not With A Bang But A Whimper (UK)

(Note: Monday Books has just released the new book, which you can buy here.)

Theodore Dalrymple has tried for years to get his City Journal essays published in book form in his native Britain. While City Journal is an American publication, the essays, published under a column entitled “Oh, to be in England!”, deal almost exclusively with the parlous state of British society. Three separate collections have been released to wide acclaim in the US, but no publisher in the subject country has been interested until Monday Books came along. Given the undeniable quality of the material and the quantity of his other published work in Britain, it is difficult not to credit his claim to have been stymied by an intellectual climate opposed to his views. Perhaps it is not surprising that the intellectual leaders that Dalrymple claims have driven the nation into an economic, social and cultural ditch deeper than any in the Western world should be so hostile to criticism.

Although it shares a title with the most recent American collection, this is a new book, with three original essays not available elsewhere and a selection of City Journal pieces tailored to address a list of problems that has gotten longer and more obvious over the last year. The essays “Delusions of Honesty” and “What Goes On In Mr. Brown’s Mind?” consider the policies and philosophies of Tony Blair and Gordon Brown, whose economic mismanagement has recently become visible to all, with an enormous expansion of public debt and a devalued currency. According to Dalrymple, the economic growth under their leadership “was more apparent than real”, and their actions and rhetoric have exhibited the kind of intellectual and moral corruption seen in the recent Parliamentary expenses scandal. Under their watch, the public sector has grown while the private sector has shrunk, and as a consequence about forty percent of the British citizenry are now “direct dependents of the state”, either through government employment or welfare.

“The Roads to Serfdom” and “How Not To Do It” outline the causes and effects of such a growth in state power, showing how the embrace of collectivism promotes policies that over time erode the national character: “large numbers of people corrupted to the very fiber of their being by having been deprived of responsibility, purpose, and self-respect, void of hope and fear alike, living in as near to purgatory as anywhere in modern society can come.” The collapse of religion has left some segments of British society with few sources of meaning or morality. No wonder they end up celebrating and rewarding the debased and profane, which Dalrymple illustrates in the opening essay by recounting the on-air conduct of the BBC’s Jonathan Ross.

Dalrymple exposes the worst of this mentality by emphasizing its affect on rates of crime. In spite of the official statistics, which purport to show little increase in criminal activity, the public experience of crime in Britain continues to grow, and the statistics are less believable daily. Concerned more with proving their liberal credentials, the police are fearful of even recording crime. The cases they do record seldom result in conviction, and conviction rarely results in adequate punishment. The police are now “like a nearly defeated occupying colonial force that, while mayhem reigns everywhere else, has retreated to safe enclaves, there to shuffle paper and produce bogus information to propitiate its political masters.” The few criminals that are incarcerated are treated as if they are mentally ill, while the mentally ill are treated as if they are criminals — or else not treated at all. Of course, the citizens made most vulnerable by such policies are those few who are truly disadvantaged, who are least able to defend themselves and whose interests are supposedly served by the state.

“Opiate Lies” summarizes Dalrymple’s 2007 book Romancing Opiates (published in the UK as Junk Medicine) and demonstrates how crime has driven drug use, rather than the reverse. “Don’t Legalize Drugs”, which also appeared in the earlier compilation Our Culture, What’s Left of It, is surely one of the best and wisest short works on the subject of legalization. As with much of these essays, it is all the more powerful for its acknowledgment of opposing views. Time after time in the book, Dalrymple makes concessions that demonstrate reasonableness and intellectual honesty. Even if much of Britain’s material progress is illusory, British citizens are today undoubtedly wealthier. Many past policies were undeniably harsh, so that merely returning to the past, were it even possible, can not be a solution.

Dalrymple places most of the blame for the nation’s decline on intellectuals who advocated the sweeping away of traditional British standards and values to be replaced by a devotion to equality of outcome, moral relativism and multiculturalism. “Ibsen and His Discontents” argues that the brilliantly talented Norwegian playwright almost single-handedly invented modern theater, even while his works displayed an enthusiasm for jettisoning moral precepts necessary to any civilized society in the utopian belief that human life could be made free of dissatisfaction. With the acceptance in Britain of this kind of disdain for one’s cultural inheritance, newer generations of Britons lack even the most basic appreciation for or even knowledge of their country’s history and culture. And freed of the responsibility for teaching that history faithfully, academics can pursue their own self-interest by claiming that modern problems are so complex that only they can see their true nature. This is “How Criminologists Foster Crime”. But in this collection, Dalrymple also praises writers like Anthony Burgess, J.G. Ballard and Arthur Koestler, whose work rejects many aspects of the new consensus.

Much of Dalrymple’s evidence about the decline of British culture comes from outside the liberal intellectual establishment, from his extensive experience working with underclass patients but also from a new class of similar writers who, like Dalrymple, work inside various aspects of the British bureaucracy: David Fraser, a probation officer whose book A Land Fit for Criminals exposes the fraudulent scheme of the entire modern, British criminal justice system; Police Constable David Copperfield, writer of an increasingly popular blog and a book, Wasting Police Time, both of which explain how devotion to furthering the cause of political correctness now trumps the most basic police work; and Frank Chalk, a teacher whose book It’s Your Time You’re Wasting “tells essentially the same story, this time with regard to education”. The work of these latter two have also been published by Monday Books, which describes itself as “an independent publisher specialising in strongly-written non fiction”, suggesting that perhaps an alternative view is gaining ground.

The establishment will no doubt reject Dalrymple’s views. The Guardian has already reviewed the book, and not surprisingly they are dismissive, with the reviewer not even feeling obligated to back up his raw assertions (probably because he can’t). But it increasingly seems as though the man in the stre
et knows, contrary to what he is being told, that something is terribly wrong.

Doctors and the dictator

In the latest BMJ essay, Dalrymple discusses the early 19th Century Paraguayan dictator Francia.

Dalrymple visited the former home of the dictator more than twenty years ago, during his East-to-West journey across the South American continent, and he wrote about the experience in his first book, Coups and Cocaine: Two Journeys in South America.


Yaguaron was also the home of Dr Jose Gaspar Rodriguez de Francia, first dictator of Paraguay and one of the most extraordinary men of the nineteenth century, though now largely forgotten. His house is a museum, little visited, down an unpaved road that leads straight to the wilderness beyond.

Dr Francia’s home is a modest, single-storeyed whitewashed house, not unlike thousands of others. I went there in the hope that it would help me understand something of his enigma — a residue, no doubt, of the primitive idea that after his death a little of a man’s spirit remains in the places he has frequented during life.

The house was as simple in furnishing as it was in construction, hardly what one might have expected of a man with such a monstrous ego that he decreed that all Paraguayans must wear a hat, be they otherwise naked, so that they might doff it whenever he or his functionaries went by. The truth seems to be that Dr Francia was one of those strange austere despots that this normally corrupt continent throws up, whose integrity is terrifying in its consistency, more terrifying by far than any regime of mere peculation could ever be. When Francia died, the public treasury was found to contain 122,000 silver pesos and 87,336 gold, of which latter 36,500 were his unclaimed salary for the previous twenty-five years. He was a Lenin rather than a Somoza.

[snip]

He was parsimonious with government funds to the ultimate degree. When having a batch of conspirators executed on the lawn in front of the government house he allocated only one musket ball per condemned man. If that failed to kill, the man was hacked to death with a machete. Thanks to ancient muskets and poor marksmanship there was fearful carnage, while Francia looked on from the veranda, calmly smoking a cigar and writing beside the name of each executed man the words Pax Francia. There were not many conspiracies against him.

Tracking the troublemakers

At the Social Affairs Unit, Dalrymple proposes a better use for the UK’s ubiquitous CCTV cameras:

The government, apparently, is thinking of installing closed circuit
television cameras in the homes of the 20,000 worst behaved families,
or rather households, in Britain, so that they are under surveillance
twenty-four hours a day.

I have a better idea, in fact a far better idea: instead of the
20,000 households, government ministers should themselves be under
twenty-four hour video surveillance.

Read the essay.

Man vs. Mutt

In today’s Wall Street Journal, Dalrymple hilariously compares Britain’s human health care system with its veterinary equivalent:

In the last few years, I have had the opportunity to compare the human and veterinary health services of Great Britain, and on the whole it is better to be a dog.

As a British dog, you get to choose (through an intermediary, I admit) your veterinarian. If you don’t like him, you can pick up your leash and go elsewhere, that very day if necessary. Any vet will see you straight away, there is no delay in such investigations as you may need, and treatment is immediate. There are no waiting lists for dogs, no operations postponed because something more important has come up, no appalling stories of dogs being made to wait for years because other dogs—or hamsters—come first.
Read the essay.

h/t Dave L.

Diagnosing the nation’s ills

The Spectator has reviewed the English release (by Monday Books) of Not With A Bang But A Whimper. Dalrymple’s admirers will quibble with a couple of the comments by reviewer Marcus Berkmann (his writing has only the one theme?) but, all things considered, it’s a well-written demonstration of Dalrymple’s appeal “to anyone with a brain and a heart, of whatever political persuasion.”

Monday Books publisher Dan Collins reviews the review here.

UPDATE: Link to the review has been fixed.

Struggle for A Continent

Dalrymple tackles Islamic immigration to Europe in National Review:


…if you were to ask a believer in multiculturalism for the tangible cultural or other benefits brought to Europe by hundreds of thousands of Somalis, not as individuals but as bearers of Somali culture, he would almost certainly be reduced to silence; for the truth is that believers in multiculturalism are not really very interested in other cultures (for such interest is very hard work): They are, rather, moral exhibitionists, out to prove the largeness of their minds and the breadth of their sympathies to others of like disposition.
Read the whole thing (subscription required).

UPDATE: The article is available

Fujimori

In a new essay at The New English Review, Theodore Dalrymple considers ends and means in 1990’s Peru:

It was under Fujimori’s presidency that Sendero was defeated. The odious and murderous Guzman was captured, and made to look ridiculous as well as hypocritical. This seemed to me an immense achievement, an uncommon victory over evil.

But, of course, some of the methods used to achieve that victory were not up to the standards of Scandinavian democracy. Years later, after Fujimori had shown an uncomfortable attachment to power, and the memory of the situation he inherited had faded somewhat, he was charged with having ordered kidnappings and murder, as well as other offences. And indeed, he was guilty of these things.

How does one assess his moral, as against his legal, guilt? Is it permissible to commit a lesser evil to avoid a greater one? I am not a utilitarian, but it seems to me unrealistic to say that we should never depart from the ideal in order to prevent a much greater departure from the ideal; that, like Kant, we should tell a murderer where his victim is simply so that we do not commit the moral fault of telling a lie. On the other hand, the doctrine that the end justifies the means has been responsible for many horrors, large-scale and small.
Read the entire essay here