Meditations on Why the English Think They are Great by an English Man

We Start with a "Trigger Warning"

It may disturb my reader(s?) to learn that in these meditations I will evaluate and contrast the social and moral worth of nations. I use the term "meditations" so that it absolves me from trying to offer coherent thoughts. ^[1]

Nb. This is a "trigger warning"; colleagues who may be easily offended by this kind of thing can go and do something more productive. Colleagues who enjoy being easily offended may wish to continue.

Another Nb. This is the first time I've used a trigger warning because I'm not really that bothered about upsetting readers (I've been doing it for decades, years before anybody was offended by being offended.) That said, following threats from otherwise congenial colleagues, I have decided to learn to write in a manner that would not upset the Sociology Department of the University of Minnesota (for example). However, to my distress, I now discover that "trigger warning" is no longer acceptable, at least according to the students at Brandeis University, because it is "violent language." Instead, I should have written "content note" or the deeply mysterious "drop in." ^[2] This has caused me significant unease because a) all notes have content - otherwise they are blank pieces of paper and b) I have no idea what drop in means here; indeed, it may also have violent connotations e.g. The Mafia boss dropped his rival in quick-drying cement.

That clarified, let us return to why the English think they are great.

That is a Problem for International Educators

International educators believe that there is no hierarchy among nations. Colonial administrators tend to take a different view. In their hearts English international educators also have their doubts though they are unlikely to make these public at, for example, a Diversity Abroad conference. Beneath the cloak of enlightened egalitarianism, most English men (this is largely gender specific) believe that England is exceptional because it invented cricket. There are some other OK countries because the English taught them the rules in return for the extraction of their natural resources.

However, in lots of other places, otherwise smart people know nothing of the arcane mysteries of the sport. My Boston colleagues are unperturbed by their collective ignorance. In our centers in Florence or Barcelona any enquiry as to the significance of cricket in their daily lives evokes blank incomprehension. These good people do not know that they are deprived. Things are a bit different at our Sydney center, but I don't want to talk about that as it would complicate the pure intensity of my message and might subject me to personal comments that I do not wish to hear.

I will, then, turn back to America. My friends and colleague are in most respects thoughtful, scholarly folk. This may even be true of some of you reading these philosophical meditations. Many cultured, kindly, and curious Americans may well be somewhat uneasy if they haven't read much of Charles Dickens or George Eliot. They are vaguely aware that they are missing something. However, knowing nothing of cricket does not disturb their vacant equilibrium, nor does it keep them up at night.

The Baseball Illusion

That is because they believe that baseball matters. It is undeniably the most important game in America.

Nb (again) There is a case to be made for basketball. This is a game that is usually resolved in the last 3 minutes. At that point, commonly the score is something like 80 - 80. When I was at Syracuse University, I established a friendly accord with Jim Boeheim, the fabled basketball coach. I asked him why, under these circumstances, they didn't just play for 3 minutes. I will not repeat his response.

Lest you feel I am displaying even more uninformed bigotry than usual let me tell you that I love baseball. I have attended many games at the old and new Yankee Stadium. I was engrossed by Ken Burn's series, love the writing of Red Smith and Roger Kahn (The Boys of Summer is a classic) and stand up for the Stars and Stripes. I think Philip Roth's baseball book, The Great American Novel is an underrecognized masterpiece. I also read and reread, Bernard Malamud's The Natural and weep while reading W. P. Kinsella's Shoeless Joe which was turned into a film, The Field of Dreams. I first saw this during a flight and my audible distress caused a certain amount of consternation amongst those watching romantic comedies starring Gwyneth Paltrow.

I also love the many great characters who enrich the history of baseball. My favorite is Casey Stengel (1890-1975).

He was one of a very few who managed both the New York Yankees and Mets though, in my view, his claim to immortality is the unique manner in which he used English both to enlighten and confuse (simultaneously): Wittgenstein of the diamond...Just a few examples will have to suffice:

All right everyone, line up alphabetically according to your height.
Never make predictions, especially about the future.
There comes a time in every man's life, and I've had plenty of them.
Now there's three things you can do in a baseball game: You can win or you can lose or it can rain.
The secret of successful managing is to keep the five guys who hate you away from the four guys who haven't made up their minds.
Don't cut my throat, I may want to do that later myself.
I made up my mind but I made it up both ways.

Stengel is without doubt the great surrealist philosopher of the sport. Each sentence creates a field of meaning wider and more complex than is immediately apparent. A large monograph might be written on this thought alone: I made up my mind but I made it up both ways.

While Stengel's expertise was in philosophy. there is a credible case to be made for Yogi Bera as the true poet of the sport:

You've got to be very careful if you don't know where you are going, because you might not get there.

There are some people who, if they don't already know, you can't tell 'em.
It ain't the heat, it's the humility.
I knew the record would stand until it was broken.
If people don't want to come out to the ball park, nobody's gonna stop 'em.
It was impossible to get a conversation going, everybody was talking too much.
Even Napoleon had his Watergate.
If the world were perfect, it wouldn't be.
We have deep depth.
When you come to a fork in the road, take it. ^[3]

From baseball have emerged sublime philosophies and profound poetries but it is also the source of national delusions. This is exemplified by the fact that the major competition, "The World Series," is contested only by American teams.

There are two possible explanations:

1. American teams do not want to lose to those from Japan or, God forbid, Cuba.
2. Americans believe that what they think is important is of global significance.

They have inherited this delusion from the English. There is a BBC radio station known as "The World Service." This broadcasts to all the nations of the globe who, otherwise, would not understand what is going on. During my time at the BBC in London, I became aware of critical discussions between dust-covered radio producers who (between pink gins) pondered a conundrum: were they broadcasting to the world, or from the world?

"The World Series" similarly reflects a complex rooted in a myth of global superiority. Nations generally get away with that for a while. Individuals who believe that they are exceptional individuals are frequently sedated and incarcerated until they get better or die. Most of the asylums on the South Coast of England are populated by people who think they are Napoleon, Diana Ross, or Pol Pot.

It's Not Cricket

The less privileged among you may think that if "it's not cricket," it must be something else: synchronized swimming, dressage, ducking for apples and the like, or one of the other activities that reflect humanity's commitment to futility.

Despite enormous evidence to the contrary, the English believe they are best because they understand what that really means. It's not cricket doesn't have much to do with cricket. By way of explanation, the English invented cricket but it makes no difference that they lose lots of games. Indeed, losing is "cricket" whereas winning all the time and enjoying it is "not cricket." Comprehension of that distinction is at the heart of why, despite their obvious irrelevance, the English continue to believe that they are uniquely significant in the world.

Explication of this conundrum is best approached through the process of elimination.

The English Delusion

This obviously has nothing to do with the quasi-comical buffoonery of the political leadership. It has nothing to do with heroic military triumphs. The English are frequently embarrassed when they win; Dunkirk, the aftermath of a major defeat, is the most celebrated event of World War Two. It has nothing to do with political power. On the global stage, the English have become merely entertainment. It has nothing to do with efficiency as tormented travelers on London North Eastern Railway will confirm. Instead, beyond reason or history, the English think they are privileged among nations, a chosen people, who know that cricket represents moral, spiritual, political, and social order. It represents the laws by which life should be lived.

There is a fable, oft told on the playing fields of England, which has been passed from generation to generation. I cannot guarantee the historical veracity of this event, but it was told to me thus:

Back in an obscure and distant past, in a primitive part of East Sussex, a collection of odious peasants waited, slack jawed, below the heights of Ditchling Beacon.

They had followed for some time (well over an hour) the leader of their clan, The Right Honourable Sir Jarvis St John Forsythe, to a spot from whence Sir Jarvis ascended into the clouds that had gathered at the summit of the beacon itself.

After a tense period of staring mindlessly ahead, the rabble spotted the descent of Sir Jarvis and in his well-manicured hands he carried a sacred text that was to be called Wisden - the book in which is written all the holy rules of cricket.

God Invented Cricket and Gave it to the English

Cricket is more than just a game. "It's not golf," or "it's not boxing" are comments that may relate to technical deviations - the golfer who kicks his ball into a more advantageous position, or Mike Tyson's cannibalistic assault on the ear of Evander Holyfield. Such actions, however unacceptable, are not challenges to the universal foundations of moral and social order. Rather, they are examples of bad manners. "It's not cricket" is altogether a different matter. It refers to the kind of devious machinations that the English tend to associate with behavior patterns of those unfortunate to have been born elsewhere.

"It is cricket" is almost never heard because it is simply what is expected in the leafy shires of England. That which is "not cricket" cannot be explained through "cultural relativism." It is an absolute affront to the divinely determined nature of things, or what in England is called etiquette.

There are those who, thus, assert that God is English.

What This Means for Education Abroad

Most of our students are youthful Americans and, consequently, innocent. Following in the footsteps of their countryman, Henry James, they are likely to wander in futile search for what distinguishes England from their homeland. They may speculate about trivial differences and in a haze of misdirection call them "cultural." We have an obligation to guide them away from these superficial mirages. Enlightenment may be found along the pathway of comparative studies.

Baseball is, as I have argued, a great game. It is, however, in contrast to cricket, devoid of moral significance. "Play the game" is not an invitation to participate in cricket. Instead, it is a commandment that has the weight of a Papal edict; deviation is sin. American friends sometimes seem to believe that there is nothing very important to be learned in the declining and decaying English environment. In short, they believe that baseball is enough. That view is myopic. Students who do not learn the distinction between what is, and what is not, cricket will go through life without an awareness of the finer nuances of civilization.

We hope that our students will become healthy, wealthy, contented citizens living in beautiful places with lovely children. We also hope that that they will revisit these "sceptered isles" wherein they indulged in youthful, exuberant excess. But the English, in shabby poverty, draped in the rags of decline, will know of something that may, sadly, have eluded the American alums. As the rain falls upon impoverished English heads, they will reiterate the catechisms by which they live their lives. The English read their Wisden, know how to "play the game"; they know what "it's not cricket" means. They were born with this knowledge and that is why, even in the face of widespread ridicule, they carry with them, generation after generation, an innate, unjustified, unshakeable illusion of superiority.

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