The nature of the activity that the term “political correctness” describes is difficult to neatly define. The term “political correctness” is, of course, deeply unhelpful; it is a process that is neither directed nor overseen by politics or political bodies, although laws and legal institutions may respond reactively to it. Furthermore, it seems to me that it describes a correctness, or an orthodoxy, only insofar as it casts a shape by opposition. It is a social process, and one that is concerned primarily with ruling out that which is unacceptable in its midst, not with carving commandments into graven slabs on the mount.
Broadly speaking, political correctness is the process by which society is currently re-evaluating the extent to which it finds certain acts and ideas tolerable and permissible. The term “Culture of Tolerance” has been suggested in its place, despite it not always being particularly tolerant; was the headscarf ban in France an act of toleration? Anne Applebaum dubbed it the “European Project”, which is only somewhat satisfying, as it is not a process that is necessarily bound to Europe. Its roots, however, most certainly do lie in that continent, and its impulse to both forget and atone for its past. In Reflections on the Revolution in Europe: Immigration, Islam and the West,Christopher Cadwell writes:
Avoiding another European explosion meant, above all, purging Europe’s individual countries of nationalism, with “nationalism” understood to include all vestiges of racism, militarism and cultural chauvinism – but also patriotism, pride and unseemly competitiveness. The singing of national anthems and the waving of national flags became, in some countries, the province only of skinheads and soccer hooligans”.
Cadwell’s thesis is that it was this traumatised recoil from the close, bloody proximity to history that Europe had enjoyed in the early 20th Century that became the foundation upon which millions of Muslims came to build their lives in Europe, bringing with them, unchallenged, many of the exigencies that have come to define the inter-communal friction that has afflicted Europe over the last half-century. And he has a point. In no other location at any other time would the migration of so many people, from so many radically different cultures, have been permitted as it has here. The Europe that shunned the stark divisions of colonialism and cultural absolutism could not allow itself to deny migration on the basis of cultural difference, any more than it could bring itself to apply a standard upon those who it had enticed.
While it does Cadwell a disservice to reduce his nuanced, well-considered arguments in such a fashion, this does hint at the roots of what we today call “political correctness”. The problem is not, and has never been, one of illegal or illegitimate migration; the Home Office accounts for maybe 400,000 illegal migrants at large in the UK, but the number of legitimate refugees in the UK has recently crested 3 million, and the number of legal migrants is greater still. This rapid rebalancing of the cultural mix cause a friction to develop within Europe; not just between the newcomers and the hosts, but within the host cultures themselves – between those who clung to the European Project, and worked to embody its principles of inclusively and cultural relativism, and those who espoused a new (or a return of the old) nationalism, demanding that those who arrived, integrate. It was this duality of response that led to refugees becoming, as Georgio Agamben would have it, homo sacer*; in a society which could not agree upon a consistent response to the issues raised by migration and political asylum, these lives became politically untouchable.
Attempts to resolve the issues arising from this dichotomy have been incoherent. The aforementioned headscarf ban was notorious in Europe but elicited interest beyond not for its severity but for the haphazard way in which it was implemented. To ban a scrap of cloth is clearly illiberal, which is why the French authorities argued that it was being banned as the symbol of an aggressive international political movement. Instead of simply banning on that basis, however, the French government felt the need to make the law inclusive – and thus banned religious paraphernalia across the spectrum, including “large crosses” and yarmulkes. There was never any illusion or doubt that the law was directed at, or intended to target, anything other than the Islamic headscarf. But the European project mandated that any action against one group must be carried out against all others, in equal measure. The irony here is that the law worked; even though the law has been in effect for only a short while, integration is perceived to have improved significantly. But the cautiously inclusive way in which the law was framed was completely ineffective at muting Islamic resentment against it, which was still – naturally – regarded as a hostile move specifically targeting France’s substantial Muslim population (which is effectively what it was) – meaning that the rights of the Christian and Jewish populations were curtailed for no worthwhile reason.
But for all its frequent stupidity, incoherence and hypocrisy, the European Project remains a worthwhile pursuit. For all the cultural and social tension it may have caused, it has undoubtedly prevented far worse; a those chauvinists who have argued for a responsive rise in European Christianity unwittingly demonstrate. A religious revival may be good for the souls of Europe’s flocks, administered as they are by a faith that is both fragmented and bloated, and hamstrung by a society fixated on cultural passivity; but what virtues it may have in its own right do not even begin to account for its value as a “response” to the rise of Europe’s Muslim influx. Who would seriously argue for a renewal of religion conflict in Europe?
The European Project is not perfect, but it doesn’t need to be. It simply needs to hold the ring until the still-unhealed fractures in Europe’s post-war psyche finally knit together. Migrant societies cannot be held accountable for the divisions that have existed in this post-war continent; for every Abu Hamza there are multiples, many multiples of examples of Muslim migrants who have migrated seamlessly into secular European culture: the sophisticated Iranians of Paris, the Pakistani entrepreneurs of London, and individuals like Ayaan Hirsi Ali. Europe’s ills are self-inflicted; they are the ailments of a culture that has lost its sense of self. Politicising migration in response to this is a straw man. To paraphrase The West Wing, the culture which gave us Shakespeare doesn’t need defending, any more than the cultures that gave us Balzac, Hesse or Calvino.
There are historical precedents for our migratory state; the habit of importing spouses from the old country was practiced by American immigrants (Jewish, Irish, Italian), many of whom remained in isolated, internally cohesive communities for three or more generations. The fingerprints of those communities remain still, but they nevertheless integrated, and the reasons for this should give Europe hope. The integration of America’s subcultures came about through a shared dream of prosperity – a dream that required a firm grasp of English to realise. Europe may lack the more deeply conformist aspects of American society, but it certainly has no lack of wealth or culture to entice the young and dissatisfied members of migrant communities – and history has shown that, once assimilated, it’s very hard for a community to un-assimilate. It is this structural strength, borne of working through the issues of migration the hard way, that have allowed America to bring its true demons to light. 8 years may seem like a long time, but the institutional paralysis that Europe would have encountered in similar circumstances hardly bears thinking about.
But if I appear to optimist in asserting that Europe’s migratory issues will resolve themselves, given enough time, then let me temper that with some pessimism. The abrasive rift within European culture caused by the implementation of the European Project is a real problem, and cries of “political correctness” from disaffected Daily Mail editorialists cannot be simply dismissed as the belated death-throes of a class dreaming of defunct colonial privilege. If they are to succeed in preserving the bedrock of European unity for future generations to build upon, then those who carry the flag of the European Project need to change some of the ways in which they operate.
First, there is a need for objectives to be debated, discussed, clarified and understood. Awkward kludges like the French burka ban help no-one; either ban the burka or do not, but do not allow the ideals of equality of temperance to resolve into incoherence or trivial platitude. It is from this farcical, maniacal adherence to principle in the face of situational reality that fuels dissatisfaction with political correctness, as much as the erosion of civil liberties or the shame of a national identity in perceived retreat.
Second, common ground needs to be established and understood. It is not impossible to be nationalist and still tolerant; it is not contradictory to support a national team and still oppose chauvinism and racial hatred. The rhetoric of national pride and competitiveness still needs to change; the Lord knows that I roll my eyes when French- or German-baiting is indulged in by those of my kin who follow English football or European politics. But sarcastically supporting the Scottish team is not an appropriate or helpful response to that. The middle ground is a field of dreams; if you build it, they will come.
And finally, it needs to be understood that the questions of race and migration are a battlefield that has been played out. The conflict over the future of the soul of Europe is not between the indigenous populations and their immigrant guests; it is an internecine dispute and not one that needs to be mortal. The migrants are here and their fate is their own, and, with luck, they will add to the richness of the future of Europe. What kind of future that is remains to be seen.
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As an aside; my good friend Charly has joined myself and Kate as bloggers of distinction. Charly makes cakes that are both edible and incredible, and Kate’s design blog is the kind of site that gives you the warm happies when you’re stuck at work on a miserable November afternoon. Go; read; enjoy.
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*In Ancient Rome there existed the legal concept of homo sacer, the sacred life – an entity legally defined as an exile under the law, someone to whom no law applied and who could claim the protection of no rights. The law applied to them only insofar as it was forbidden to use them as a ritual sacrifice; any other act against them – including killing them – was permitted.
To be rendered homo sacer was a punishment; the sacred nature of this mode of life was cast as a disparagement. Clearly, there are benefits to choosing to live outside of society, but for the Ancient Romans, they were outweighed by the determents of being stripped of all rights conferred by a system of law and a social compact.
Agamben argued, quite successfully, that refugees enjoyed a similar status in modern Western society.
