Read Online Complaint: From Minor Moans to Principled Protests by Julian Baggini - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julian Baggini
Ads: Link
findings are no longer shocking. We know that social inequality is stubbornly resistant to change by government policy, and few now believe we can do more than ameliorate it. 15
To those who wish for a more equitable society it should be obvious that constructive complaint about inequality requires addressing issues of great complexity and intractability. This, however, is hard work, and aside from the plight of the less well-off, there are other problems that demand attention, such as choosing a new people-carrier, moving into the catchment area of a good school or cancelling the organic vegetable box delivery while the family decamps to a gîte.
Lucky, then, that something comes along which one can wholeheartedly support and which promises genuine changes in life chances for the poor. It turns out that we needn’t worry about Marx’s analysis of capital or Gordon Brown’s harnessing of endogenous growth theory to fund redistribution: all we need to do is feed people properly. The poor needn’t live on their knees; they can diet on their feet, standing taller than ever before, owing to stronger growth fuelled by five portions of fruit and vegetables a day.
The idea that better lunches can transform lives may seem extreme, but it’s one Oliver overtly promoted. He made one family change what they gave their children for lunch and went back to discover that the kids’ afternoon behaviour had been dramatically changed for the better. No one pointed out the obvious possibility that the presence of cameras, rather than vegetables, might have had something to do with this. Although there is indeed evidence that diet is important for concentration and energy levels, the idea that a square meal is a magic bullet for the ills of relative deprivation is absurd.
Such a solution appeals to the voice inside us that insists something
must
be done, even as another voice reminds us that not a great deal
can
be done. The complaint about the deep structural causes of social inequality can be displaced on to a complaint about school dinners, and thus instead of apainful, head-against-the-wall struggle we can focus our guilt on a single issue that can be solved by an education minister changing the menus. (Actually, the changes prompted by the programme had an unforeseen effect: the number of children taking school dinners went down by 20 per cent as they introduced healthier, but also less popular, menus. 16 )
How many of the people who got excited over Jamie Oliver’s quest for better nutrition were actually displacing complaints about the horridness or plight of the working class, I cannot honestly say. My point is to illustrate how displacement complaints can work, not to guess whether or not in this case they were at the heart of the phenomenon. What is surely true is that we are often tempted to complain about an issue which seems black and white rather than engage with an issue which is more complex. In a way, who can blame us? Life is hard, and expending endless energy on intractable problems is neither fun nor fruitful. But to displace our complaints is to avoid hard truths. You may prefer an easier life to a more honest one, but you should at least have enough honesty to recognise the fact.
It’s not just supporters of Jamie Oliver’s campaign who sometimes misdirect their complaints, however. So do those who criticise it. However, the fault here is one not of
displacement
but of
proportionality
. To protest too much about something that isn’t very important can be an even more egregious example of wrong complaint than having a small moan about something you should be sanguine about.
In the UK some of the most informed criticism of Oliver has nonetheless fallen foul of this error. The entire healthy eating agenda has been rubbished by people who make too much of the kind of sceptical analysis of Oliver I outlined above. Despite the doubts, it is surely true that it is preferable that schools feed children better, not
To those who wish for a more equitable society it should be obvious that constructive complaint about inequality requires addressing issues of great complexity and intractability. This, however, is hard work, and aside from the plight of the less well-off, there are other problems that demand attention, such as choosing a new people-carrier, moving into the catchment area of a good school or cancelling the organic vegetable box delivery while the family decamps to a gîte.
Lucky, then, that something comes along which one can wholeheartedly support and which promises genuine changes in life chances for the poor. It turns out that we needn’t worry about Marx’s analysis of capital or Gordon Brown’s harnessing of endogenous growth theory to fund redistribution: all we need to do is feed people properly. The poor needn’t live on their knees; they can diet on their feet, standing taller than ever before, owing to stronger growth fuelled by five portions of fruit and vegetables a day.
The idea that better lunches can transform lives may seem extreme, but it’s one Oliver overtly promoted. He made one family change what they gave their children for lunch and went back to discover that the kids’ afternoon behaviour had been dramatically changed for the better. No one pointed out the obvious possibility that the presence of cameras, rather than vegetables, might have had something to do with this. Although there is indeed evidence that diet is important for concentration and energy levels, the idea that a square meal is a magic bullet for the ills of relative deprivation is absurd.
Such a solution appeals to the voice inside us that insists something
must
be done, even as another voice reminds us that not a great deal
can
be done. The complaint about the deep structural causes of social inequality can be displaced on to a complaint about school dinners, and thus instead of apainful, head-against-the-wall struggle we can focus our guilt on a single issue that can be solved by an education minister changing the menus. (Actually, the changes prompted by the programme had an unforeseen effect: the number of children taking school dinners went down by 20 per cent as they introduced healthier, but also less popular, menus. 16 )
How many of the people who got excited over Jamie Oliver’s quest for better nutrition were actually displacing complaints about the horridness or plight of the working class, I cannot honestly say. My point is to illustrate how displacement complaints can work, not to guess whether or not in this case they were at the heart of the phenomenon. What is surely true is that we are often tempted to complain about an issue which seems black and white rather than engage with an issue which is more complex. In a way, who can blame us? Life is hard, and expending endless energy on intractable problems is neither fun nor fruitful. But to displace our complaints is to avoid hard truths. You may prefer an easier life to a more honest one, but you should at least have enough honesty to recognise the fact.
It’s not just supporters of Jamie Oliver’s campaign who sometimes misdirect their complaints, however. So do those who criticise it. However, the fault here is one not of
displacement
but of
proportionality
. To protest too much about something that isn’t very important can be an even more egregious example of wrong complaint than having a small moan about something you should be sanguine about.
In the UK some of the most informed criticism of Oliver has nonetheless fallen foul of this error. The entire healthy eating agenda has been rubbished by people who make too much of the kind of sceptical analysis of Oliver I outlined above. Despite the doubts, it is surely true that it is preferable that schools feed children better, not
Similar Books
