The Gross Domestic Pissants

Britain is awash in “work” that is in reality merely unproductive, or anti-productive, activity. We’re all aware of the meddling bureaucrat who delights in gumming up the works, but the worst kind is the true believer who doesn’t see the pointlessness of his efforts. Dalrymple says they are legion:

More to be feared even than the secret sadist, however, is the person who genuinely believes in the intrinsic value and even indispensability of his absurd task. He is as dangerous as any true believer. In my hospital, I saw many such people, scurrying like the White Rabbit in Alice from one meeting to another—meetings which medical staff were required to attend, thus diverting them from the main purpose of having medical staff in the first place. A friend of mine who had waited all day for a minor but potentially life-preserving operation was told at the last minute that his operation had been postponed because the surgeon had been called to attend a meeting. Only a credible threat by my friend of dire consequences for the hospital if the operation were not performed as planned diverted the surgeon from his pseudo- to his real work.

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