What the British are Really Laughing About
The UK (and the rest of the world) is laughing at former Prime Minister David Cameron over allegations that he had sex with a dead pig. It’s reminiscent of the Black Mirror premiere wherein the PM must do the act on live television in order to save the beloved princess (see also: “would you rather do x and have nobody know, or not do x and have everybody assume that you did?”) In the real-life version however, the PM comes off not as someone to be pitied, but as someone to be mocked.
The Leveller has a great article that explains exactly why. During Cameron’s time at university (Oxford, of course) he participated in several secret societies. These societies aided your career, but their initiation practices were ridiculous and included things like burning a £50 note in front of a homeless man. Why do this? Well, many members went on to become leaders in the government and the purpose of these societies was “upper class right wing team-building.”
This happens in a scary way: political actors use this information as an example of mutually-assured-destruction. This political leverage also goes to the very top, where the “Chief Whip of each respective party is expected to have an arsenal of dirt locked away in their office…” Moreover, one cannot even join the highest ranks unless one gives some sort of way to be controlled.
So to then hear that the guy at the top of that pyramid was peer-pressured into putting his dick in a pig’s mouth or risk not being included in a club of nasty, entitled people, it creates a much more satisfying reaction than mere laughter. A figure of terror becomes a figure of ridicule, a reversal like the boggarts in Harry Potter, who impersonate your worst nightmares until you can cast a spell on them that makes them look absurd.
What’s interesting though is how commentators approach the response. The New York Times in an op-ed stated that,
But [the English middle-class voters] have always looked on the transgressions of their social betters with a mixture of jealousy and appalled fascination, poorly masked by censoriousness… They have always suspected that behind closed doors, the toffs were getting away with murder. They only wish they could be murderers, too.
But the Leveller mentions that:
Something grievously misunderstood by many members of the British ruling class is that they believe hatred of the ‘Bullingdon boy’ archetype comes from mere jealousy. The vast majority of the privately educated men who run the country really think that everyone wants to be more like them, and that therefore any criticism of elites comes first and foremost from envy.
So which one is it? It’s both, though I’m more tempted to lean towards the idea that most people don’t want to be murderers, and simply wish their leadership wasn’t a giant bag of dicks. Even without the monarchy, Britain isn’t even close to the meritocracy it claims to be. Still, it’s disappointing that the only solution is to laugh.
