“…And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn’t there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance, and depression. [...] How did this happen? Who’s to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you’re looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror.”
– ‘V’, “V for Vendetta” (film version)
“It became apparent that the reason that some of the people didn’t board the plane was because somebody had overheard the gentlemen in question speaking – I think it was Arabic.”
And how the fuck would you know what language it was? You’ve just spent two weeks in Malaga: you probably didn’t utter a word of Spanish the entire time you were there. Oh, the irony: British tourists, to whom nearly all the definition of being multilingual is being able to speak English slow-ly and LOUDLY, are now suddenly experts in all things linguistic. And even if it was Arabic, rather than Punjabi, Hindi, Urdu or Welsh – so what? A quarter of a billion people speak it, for fuck’s sake. Even the most stupid amongst you sheep must realise that they’re not all terrorists?
We like to think that racist attacks on the innocent are a thing of the past, but we’re now at the stage where it is the reviled behaviour not of a thuggish minority, but the norm willingly accepted by the majority. It’s just as well that airlines have now banned silverware and inflammable materials, else I’m sure the numbskulls would have fashioned pitchforks and flaming torches given the chance. And if you think the spineless fuckwits aren’t really a menace, then bear this in mind – they’re more than happy to recruit children:
“Our daughter noticed a couple of guys that were perhaps acting a bit strange. They went to the front of the queue, went to the back of the queue, and then they went and sat down by themselves.”
Remind you of anything? Perhaps:
“D’you know what that little girl of mine did last Saturday, when her troop was on a hike out Berkhamsted way? She got two other girls to go with her, slipped off from the hike, and spent the whole afternoon following a strange man. They kept on his tail for two hours, right through the woods, and then, when they got into Amersham, handed him over to the patrols.”
“What did they do that for?” said Winston, somewhat taken aback. Parsons went on triumphantly:
“My kid made sure he was some kind of enemy agent—might have been dropped by parachute, for instance. But here’s the point, old boy. What do you think put her on to him in the first place? She spotted he was wearing a funny kind of shoes—said she’d never seen anyone wearing shoes like that before. So the chances were he was a foreigner. Pretty smart for a nipper of seven, eh?”
– George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four
I hope that the two poor guys who got caught up in this horrible episode get suitably compensated, preferably enough to hurt Monarch Airlines (slogan: “we pander to racist paranoia”) into adopting a “don’t listen to spineless fuckwits” policy. I hope that anyone (if there was anyone) on the flight who was brave enough to defend these two men against the mob is suitably recognised and applauded. And I hope that the cowardly, paranoid mob, all too willing to lap up the ugly racist lie that all brown people are threats to their safety, and use it as an excuse to vent their fears and hatred at innocent people,
suffer a fiery yet ironic death just fuck off, and leave the reasonable amongst us to live in peace.