Imagine an entire country where the only inhabitants are 14-year-olds. Gossip lurks behind every corner. The system of government features a roomful of uptight, insecure representatives shouting insults at one another. Almost everyone is in need of braces. The front pages of newspapers contain information about the intimate details of pop stars’ lives but little or nothing about the important issues of the day. Believe it or not, such a place actually exists; but the residents aren’t all 14-year-olds. This mind-boggling nation is called “England.”
Before I came to this surrealistic country to study for the semester, I wasn’t expecting it to be much different than “The States,” as these silly folks like to refer to their bigger, crazier, younger brother. And in some respects, the two countries aren’t different at all-same language, similar standard of living, close political ties, etc. The English share our passion for living vicariously through their celebrities. But across the Atlantic, they take this interest to a bizarre new level.
Case in point: David Beckham, the most popular athlete in England (although he now plays for a Spanish team … go figure). Remember when Michael Jordan was in his prime? He was everywhere: Gatorade and Nike commercials, partially animated movies with Bugs Bunny, even minor league baseball games. For the most part, however, Jordan was popular because of his ability to play basketball better than anyone in the world. Not so in the case of Beckham. The average Englishman would rather discuss a rumor that Beckham’s limo driver caught the star footballer picking his nose than analyze the spectacular goal he scored against Barcelona.
The English media is a joke. Yes, The United States has its supermarket tabloids, but we also have newspapers that report actual news. In England, however, even supposedly respectable publications carry far more celebrity gossip and “human interest” stories than actual news. I recently purchased an issue of the Evening News, the daily newspaper in Norwich, the city in which I’m studying. In the “Newsdesk” section, the top story is about the latest turmoil in the Middle East. The second headline, however, written in large, bold letters is this: “In the Soup over Croutons.” The first sentence of this breaking story follows: “A leading brain surgeon has been suspended from his duties in a row over an extra helping of soup at a hospital’s canteen, it emerged today.”
There is an epidemic passion for scandals in this country. Last month I was watching a BBC news broadcast, whose lead story was a report that the American presidential candidate, John Kerry, was being rumored to have had an affair with an intern. The broadcast devoted a full fifteen minutes to this breaking story, and a political analyst was invited on the air to discuss the fallout that was sure to ensue for the Kerry camp. As a former Kerry intern myself, this news was certainly shocking to me, and I decided to check the online versions of leading American newspapers to get their perspective on the scandal from back home. I thought it odd that The Washington Post didn’t even mention the story. It must have broken after press time, I thought. I checked The New York Times. Nothing. USA Today? You guessed it. Apparently this “story” had only been mentioned on a website, and was completely unsubstantiated. That didn’t stop the English media from jumping all over it. It’s no wonder they loved Clinton so much.
I was warned before I came here that people with strong anti-American tendencies were going to single me out for political debate. Some people told me that I might even find myself defending some of the current administration’s reactionary policies, once challenged by outsiders. Those people were wrong. I haven’t changed my views, and I am still as much of a flaming liberal as ever. Still, even when I agree with some anonymous Brit’s concerns about the American government, it’s very hard to take him seriously when he’s falling-down drunk at six p.m. and he got his facts from “a bloke called Martin who works at the chip shop.” I have yet to witness a single person here read any part of the newspaper other than the sport, fashion, or style sections.
Don’t get me wrong. The English are wonderful in many respects. They are the most polite people in the world. The last time I bought something with a credit card, there were no less than eight “thank yous” exchanged between the checkout employee and me, and one “cheers, mate” to finish the transaction. It’s not their fault that they are so uninformed. Americans are commonly accused of being ignorant about the world. That might be true to a certain extent, but at least our media actually provides us with real information. Whether or not we choose to ignore it and watch Fox News instead is a personal decision.
So who’s responsible for this problem of national ignorance? Maybe it’s the system of higher education in England, where most students take only seven hours of class a week, professors cancel lectures when they decide they’d rather stay home and drink tea, and vacations never seem to end. Perhaps it’s the British Parliament’s fault for under-funding public education and media outlets. It’s hard to say who deserves the most culpability. Personally, I blame Esherick.
Scott Conroy is a junior in the College. This came out of nowhere.
