Friday, May 4, 2007 — Whitechapel; Bookshop; Battersea

These are some notes on ram­bling in the U.K. that did­n’t make it into pre­vi­ous postings:

Bat­te­sea Pow­er Station

07-05-04 BLOG Friday, May 4, 2007 — Whitechapel; Bookshop; Battersea pic 3In Lon­don, I chanced to come near the mas­sive bulk of the old Bat­tersea Pow­er Sta­tion. This huge struc­ture is famil­iar to any­one who has a copy of Pink Floy­d’s Ani­mals, where it’s used in the cov­er art. Now it’s in the process of being torn down. For once, I deeply regret­ted not hav­ing a cam­era with me. I will not be able to find any pho­tographs of it in this par­tic­u­lar stage of demo­li­tion, where it looks like a diplodocus, supine and par­tial­ly dis­mem­bered by a T‑rex.

Whitechapel

07-05-04 BLOG Friday, May 4, 2007 — Whitechapel; Bookshop; Battersea pic 1The dis­trict of Whitechapel is famous as the locus operan­di of Jack the Rip­per. It was a poor dis­trict in his time, and it’s a poor dis­trict now, with lit­ter-filled streets, crum­bling hous­ing, and drea­ry blocks of coun­cil flats. It’s now inhab­it­ed most­ly by Mus­lim immi­grants. But it has a vibrant street life, and the cam­pus of Lon­don Uni­ver­si­ty is embed­ded with­in it. I found it quite inter­est­ing. The real shab­bi­ness of the inhab­i­tants mixed uneasi­ly with the faux-shab­bi­ness of the mid­dle class stu­dents. No tourists, any­where that I could see.

As one would expect near a cam­pus, there was one of those pathet­ic “rad­i­cal“ book­shops. This real­ly sad­dened me. It con­tained noth­ing but the same old stu­pid garbage that com­pos­es the tra­di­tion­al fur­ni­ture of intel­lec­tu­al wanker­dom: the moron­ic racist rant­i­ngs of Karl Marx, the pedan­tic fab­ri­ca­tions of Noam Chom­s­ki, the inevitable fad­ed vol­umes from a hun­dred years of inco­her­ent incom­pe­tence. In oth­er words, noth­ing even remote­ly rad­i­cal, pro­gres­sive, or of any intel­lec­tu­al worth. What sad­dens me is that all this dread­ful rub­bish con­tin­ues to waste the time of earnest stu­dents, and prob­a­bly well-inten­tioned peo­ple, gen­er­a­tion after futile gen­er­a­tion, crowd­ing out any intel­li­gent mate­r­i­al that might actu­al­ly be use­ful to them. We live in a tru­ly con­ser­v­a­tive soci­ety when this stale stuff is thought to be radical.

07-05-04 BLOG Friday, May 4, 2007 — Whitechapel; Bookshop; Battersea pic 2I can see that Whitechapel is like­ly to be a recruit­ing ground for the var­i­ous sects of destruc­tive Islamism. No doubt most of the Mus­lim fam­i­lies are respectably and harm­less­ly pious, but the hordes of unem­ployed and under­em­ployed teenagers I could see wan­der­ing aim­less­ly in the streets must be easy prey for the polit­i­cal ter­ror move­ments. I could see instant­ly that there was a pro­found dif­fer­ence between the Mus­lim com­mu­ni­ties of Cana­da and Britain.

In Cana­da, the typ­i­cal Mus­lim fam­i­ly earns more than the nation­al aver­age. It is a com­mu­ni­ty pri­mar­i­ly com­posed of pro­fes­sion­al peo­ple, or small busi­ness peo­ple, who have built for them­selves a sol­id place in Cana­di­an soci­ety. There are sev­er­al Mus­lims in Par­lia­ment, often rep­re­sent­ing dis­tricts that are not espe­cial­ly pop­u­lat­ed by Mus­lims. There are some less well-off peo­ple in the com­mu­ni­ty, usu­al­ly recent immi­grants from Soma­lia or oth­er poor coun­tries, but they are obvi­ous­ly on the same lad­der of upward mobil­i­ty that many oth­er immi­grants to Cana­da have climbed. Some peo­ple, in small places, are no doubt puz­zled by or even made sus­pi­cious of Mus­lims by news of Islamist extrem­ism, but in any large town or city, nobody gives that stuff a sec­ond thought. I work in a den­tal lab­o­ra­to­ry, where there are half a dozen Mus­lims among a staff of twen­ty. One small Cana­di­an town — one that did not actu­al­ly con­tain a sin­gle immi­grant — was cursed with a town coun­cil yokel who want­ed to pass a res­o­lu­tion denounc­ing bizarre fan­tasies that he imag­ined were Islam­ic cus­tom. The town quick­ly became a nation­al laugh­ing stock. The tra­di­tion­al Cana­di­an atti­tude of mind­ing one’s own busi­ness and let­ting peo­ple do as they please with­out med­dling has not altered . The sup­posed “con­flict of civ­i­liza­tions“ bal­li­hooed by the press in oth­er coun­tries is seen by most Cana­di­ans as noth­ing more than the usu­al immi­grant sto­ry, cel­e­brat­ed in the pop­u­lar tele­vi­sion com­e­dy series Lit­tle Mosque On the Prairie,

But what I saw in Whitechapel was some­thing entire­ly dif­fer­ent. It looked to me like a com­mu­ni­ty of unwel­come for­eign­ers, sti­fled and idle in a ghet­to. Else­where in Britain, I’m sure, there are many Mus­lims whose expe­ri­ence is clos­er to the Cana­di­an pat­tern. But here, I could see bit­ter­ness, ten­sion, and alien­ation. Cul­ti­vat­ing an Under­class is a bad idea, in any soci­ety. Cou­pling an under­class with a reli­gious divi­sion is a recipe for dis­as­ter. It does not help that one is con­stant­ly being bom­bard­ed with warn­ings and pre­cau­tions about ter­ror­ism, and that the ter­ror­ist pre­da­tions in the U.K. have been real and damaging.

I hear repeat­ed ref­er­ences to “mul­ti­cul­tur­al­ism“ in Britain, but the word seems to have a dif­fer­ent flavour here than back in Cana­da. In Britain, it seems to refer to gov­ern­ment and insti­tu­tion­al efforts to get Britons to accept Mus­lims as fel­low-cit­i­zens, or at least to tol­er­ate their pres­ence. In Cana­da, accep­tance is tak­en more or less for grant­ed. The word in Cana­da refers to the efforts of immi­grant com­mu­ni­ty orga­ni­za­tions to pre­serve and trans­mit the ele­ments of tra­di­tion­al cul­tures to the gen­er­a­tion born and raised in Cana­da. One usage pre­sumes that assim­i­la­tion is dif­fi­cult, the oth­er that it is so swift and effec­tive that there is a dan­ger that par­ents and chil­dren might not under­stand each oth­er. But the two coun­tries have such pro­found­ly dif­fer­ent his­to­ries and social sys­tems that the dif­fer­ent atti­tudes and results are understandable.

A Cardiff Bookshop

In Cardiff, there was a real­ly fine sec­ond-hand book­shop. Not an impec­ca­bly prop­er one with var­nished book­cas­es and cab­i­nets, but a dusty, messy one, with books stuffed hig­gledy-pig­gledy onto rick­ety shelves. The own­er told me that the musty, Vic­to­ri­an-era arcade which it inhab­it­ed is soon to be refit­ted to accom­mo­date trendy bou­tiques and bar-cafés, so he is not like­ly to remain there much longer. In the dusty chaos of this shop, I saw book after book that I would love to own. A three-vol­ume trans­la­tion of Gre­go­ry of Tours into mod­ern French, for five pounds. A trea­tise by Charles Williams, the “inkling“ friend of J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis. A Buck­ridge Jen­nings nov­el that my friend Isaac would love (unfor­tu­nate­ly, in a first edi­tion that went for thir­ty pounds). I felt embar­rassed to browse so long and buy noth­ing, so I picked up a copy of Cap­tain Mar­ry­at’s The Set­tlers In Cana­da for a few pence. This is charm­ing tale of an Eng­lish fam­i­ly set­tling in the wilds near what is now qui­et town of Brockville, Ontario, but in 1844, it could still be done up as a per­ilous wilder­ness suit­able for the adven­ture fan­tasies of British boys.

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