How to be a Brit

very
real danger.
    Q. Then why don’t they
panic?
    A. They do, but very, very
quietly.
    Q. Are Trade Unions a real
danger?
    A. You bet.
    Q. And what do the British
do about it?
    A. There were periods in
British history — indeed in the history of all nations — when one or another
layer of society, or group, or individual, grew much too strong. This could be
the king, or parliament, or the barons, or the industrialists, or the feudal
aristocracy, or the bankers, or the clergy. Their power had to be broken. In
Britain it has always been broken. On one occasion a civil war was
fought, on another occasion no civil war was fought. The problem of the Trade
Unions will be solved, too. Probably without a civil war, which is a pity. A
civil war would at least enliven the British scene.
    Q. How would they fight a
civil war?
    A. Very, very quietly.
    Q. Isn’t there a danger of
extremists gaining the upper hand?
    A. Hard to tell. Probably
not. The British, on the whole, are extreme moderates, passionate pacifists,
rabid middle-of-the-roaders. But one cannot be sure.
    Q. Isn’t, then, a
dictatorship or some other form of authoritarian regime a possibility?
    A. Unlikely. The British
are too used to solving their problems in committees, in open discussions. They
are used to no-confidence motions, to letters to the editor, and just to
opening their mouths and speaking up. Besides, they would laugh any would-be
dictator off the face of Britain. When the Russians chased away the Czar, no
democracy followed because they did not chase away Czarist traditions. Or take Uganda. We keep saying: ‘You can’t expect a Westminster-type democracy
there, they don’t have the tradition.’ Similarly, we don’t have the
authoritarian tradition. Britain completely lacks practice in authoritarianism.
They don’t know how to be dictators; they don’t know how to be slaves; they
don’t know how to be afraid of authority or the police.

    Q. With all these splendid
principles and lack of authoritarian traditions, isn’t there a danger that the
country will go to the dogs?
    A. The country is going to
the dogs. But this has always been a country of dog-lovers. So why worry?
    >

ON FIDDLING TROUGH
     
     
    You can be as rude about the
English as you wish, they positively like it. In any case you cannot be as rude
about them as they are about themselves. Years after the First World War — when
I was a child in Hungary — people were still laughing about the war communiqués
of the Austro-Hungarian High Command. Every rout they had suffered became an
‘orderly and planned withdrawal’; giving up whole provinces and running away
became ‘straightening the lines’, and chaos and final collapse was ‘strategic
reorganisation’. In World War II it took me three years in London to get used
to the relish — the positive joy — with which the English reported their
defeats, disasters and routs. The greater the disaster, the greater the joy. By
the time I got used to the disasters — and started enjoying them myself — it
was too late; they had started winning victories and went on to win the war.
    It is praising the
British that creates problems. Praising is ‘patronising’, ‘slapping on the
back’, and that they find offensive. Tell them ‘you are a great nation’ and
most of them will laugh because no one has spoken of ‘great nations’ in Europe
since the death of de Gaulle. Others will not laugh but will feel offended: who
the hell are you to distribute medals? If you want to be polite, call them a
‘once great nation’ — or better still: ‘a once great nation now in decline’. If
you want to flatter them, call them lazy, indolent, inefficient, inept and left
behind even by Luxemburg and Andorra. Bernard Shaw made a fortune by calling
the English stupid and repeating the charge for six decades, because cleverness
is a virtue they particularly despise.
     
    * * *
     
    When I first came here, the
British were obviously unprepared — both militarily and psychologically — for
the war which was about to break out. They shrugged their shoulders and
reassured jumpy aliens, like myself, that ‘we shall muddle through’. Muddling
through was one of the most popular phrases for years; but I do not think I
have heard it even once since the outbreak of the present economic crisis. The
British, as I have said, are — alas — getting cleverer. This is the Age of the
Fiddle. From middle-middle class downwards everybody must have