Concept of cultural appropriation is stupid beyond parody

‘TEN culturally appropriated costumes to avoid this Halloween.’ ‘The most offensive Halloween costumes of 2018.’ ‘My culture’s not a costume: cultural awareness for Halloween.’ ‘Don’t be that person wearing an offensive Halloween costume.’

These read like dispatches from a bizarre alternate universe – a particularly moronic one – but they’re real recent headlines.

The row over cultural appropriation has been central to the exhaustingly infantile “culture wars” engulfing US media and politics for the last few years. Don’t worry if the term (or indeed the concept) is unfamiliar; like so much else, Irish people who take all their influences from social media will no doubt soon be wailing about this alleged crime against humanity.

Cultural appropriation is defined – presumably by some sociology lecturer – as “the adoption of elements of a minority culture by members of the dominant culture”.

So, for instance, white Englishman Jamie Oliver making a dish incorporating elements of Jamaican cuisine: not allowed. And the whole thing goes into overdrive around Halloween as people make the grievous error, when choosing a party costume, of dressing up as someone else.

Native American feathers, Japanese kimono, Arab head-dress, whatever. In the controlling mind-set of culture warriors, all are verboten to you, white untermensch.

These guardians of the cultural borders are mostly millennials, though I wouldn’t want to tar them all with the same brush.

The majority of kids are sound enough, while a sizeable rump of eejits my age embrace every socio-political fad with an enthusiasm that hovers between embarrassing and downright disturbing.

Obviously the whole thing is stupid beyond parody. Cultures mix and borrow and lend and blend and steal from each other all the time – that’s what makes such a rich stew. By their very nature, cultures change incessantly, and thank God for that. (The original Celtic gods, I mean, not Jesus – I wouldn’t want to be accused of appropriating Hebraic traditions.)

If they didn’t, the world would remain forever locked in stasis. We’d be living in caves, the Roman Empire would be the same as it was in Caesar’s time, Japan would be sealed off from the outside world. They’re not even consistent, these principles of appropriation. “Don’t take my culture!” someone might cry … in English, using western technology.

What if a poor white person copies a rich black person, is that OK? What are Asians allowed to borrow from South American culture? Or South Americans from Iranians? Where do they apply for permission? Are there many forms to fill in?

You read of white people being criticised for wearing dreadlocks, as these are “owned” by black American culture. What, dreadlocks like they wore in Greece 3,600 years ago, you mean? Did they travel forward in time, steal the idea from modern California then scoot back to the past to record it in frescoes?

Worst of all are authors – some of them Irish – who subscribe to this morbid ideology. Authors, for God’s sake; the people you’d expect would be first in line to defend freedom of expression, cultural intermingling, contempt for ideology and all those other great things which make life worthwhile.

“I couldn’t possibly write about African peasants,” they’ll piously declaim, “with all my white privilege.” Why stop there, though? What gives you the right to use poor people as a subject? Or anyone of a different age, sex, sexuality, hair colour or postal address? In the end, you’ll be writing about yourself: a suitably self-absorbed conclusion to this dismal tale.

But coming back to Halloween: there’s an enormous, and hilarious, irony here. Halloween, of course, is the modern iteration of Samhain, the old Celtic New Year and Festival of the Dead, which marked the end of summer in our ancestors’ two-part calendar. So unless someone is Irish – or at least one of the Celtic races – by their own rationale, celebrating Halloween at all is cultural appropriation.

If anyone needs me at the Halloween party, I’ll be in the kitchen, wearing a Tuatha Dé Danann costume and lecturing people on their ignorant appropriation of the ancient Irish tradition of bobbing for apples while reasonably well-oiled.

Sláinte.

The majority of kids are sound enough, while a sizeable rump of eejits my age embrace every sociopolitical fad