Way of the World
The Duchess of Sussex, the Californian podcast host, cannot understand why anyone would use the term “woke” as an insult. “Woke, by definition, means ‘alert to injustice in society, especially racism’,” she said this week. “Now, what’s loaded or wrong with that?”
Quite a few people on the modern Left, I’ve noticed, appear to share her confusion. So this seems an ideal opportunity to clear the matter up.
To the Duchess and her impeccably progressive friends, the word “woke” may well mean “alert to injustice in society”. To others, though, it means sanctimonious, censorious, intolerant, illiberal, bullying, hectoring, hypocritical and insufferably holier-than-thou. Essentially, it’s a modern version of that popular 1990s phrase “PC gone mad”. Perhaps to Meghan, “politically correct” also meant nothing more than “alert to injustice in society”, but, as I’m sure she appreciates, some people took a different view.
In case she’s still in the dark, a couple of helpful examples were published in yesterday’s newspapers. First, there was the story about a conference on cancel culture getting cancelled, because the venue’s bosses feared that it might offend their staff.
Then there was the story about a university inviting “people with cervixes” to take part in a study of smear tests. In the past, the word used to describe such a study’s participants would have been “women”. The new term is designed to avoid causing offence either to women who don’t identify as women, or to men who do identify as women. The fact that it causes offence to women who identify as women appears to be of little concern.
In short: wokeness is a movement that tackles injustice in society by creating more of it. I hope that puts the Duchess’s mind at rest.
When it was revealed that Matt Hancock had signed up to do I’m a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here!, many of his constituents were furious. The MP for West Suffolk, however, defended his decision with vigour. Why, of course he wasn’t doing it for the £400,000 fee. He was doing it to educate the viewing public about the plight of dyslexic children. “I want to raise the profile of my dyslexia campaign to help every dyslexic child unleash their potential – even if it means taking an unusual route to get there... via the Australian jungle!” he explained, in an article for The Sun. “i’m a Celebrity... is watched by millions of Brits up and down the country. I want to use this incredible platform to raise awareness, so no child leaves primary school not knowing if they have dyslexia.” There could hardly be a nobler cause. Impressed, I tuned in, eager to hear what this passionate campaigner had to say.
Within days, though, my admiration had given way to bafflement. Mr Hancock made his first appearance on the show on November 8. Yet, as of yesterday evening, when this column was put to bed, I still hadn’t heard him say a single word about dyslexia.
In vain I pondered the mystery. For 10 consecutive nights I’d sat on my sofa, keenly awaiting the launch of Mr Hancock’s campaign. How, I wondered excitedly, would he go about it? Perhaps, while being buried alive in a coffin full of snakes, he would shout, “It’s estimated that one in 10 people in the UK has some form of dyslexia!” Or perhaps, while gulping down a mouthful of cow’s anus, he would cry, “Dyslexia is not tied to IQ! Famous dyslexics include Einstein, Picasso and F Scott Fitzgerald!”
To my bewilderment, however, each Bushtucker Trial came and went without any mention of dyslexic children. What could account for this omission? We all know that Mr Hancock is an honourable man who is always true to his word. I can only assume, therefore, that all his heartfelt oratory about dyslexia has been cruelly left on the cutting-room floor.
If so, Mr Hancock will be livid. This campaign, after all, was the sole reason he agreed to do the show. I wouldn’t be surprised if he handed back his £400,000 fee in disgust.
After the Autumn Statement, it’s clear that Britain is going to get poorer. But the outlook may be even worse than feared. Because, according to one forecast, by 2030 the average family in Britain will be poorer than the average family in Poland.
Inevitably, such an outcome would have far-reaching consequences. Not least for immigration. Over the past 20 years, after all, huge numbers of Poles have moved to Britain to find betterpaid work. But after 2030, presumably, it’ll be the other way round.
In no time, Poland will be flooded with British plumbers. Ordinary Poles will grumble about employers importing cheap British labour. They’ll argue that British immigrants are suppressing the wages of the working class. They’ll complain that their high streets are suddenly full of shops selling peculiar-looking British food. Polish TV news bulletins will run endless vox pops, filled with Polish market stall holders saying they just want their country back.
Britain, meanwhile, will be desperate to halt the mass exodus of workers. Former Ukip leader Nigel Farage will demand tighter border controls, to stop British people getting out. A beleaguered home secretary will sign a multimillion-pound deal with France to try and tackle the thousands of young British men crossing the Channel by dinghy. And, going into every general election, the Conservatives will pledge to get emigration down to the tens of thousands.