Coldness Explained: A Review of Watching The English

If I were English, I should technically open this review by a discussion of the weather. But if I were English, I would be obligated to grumble about it until I found some semblance of solace in my winging. But I am an American and the weather is beautiful right now. According to Kate Fox, I would now have to find something else to complain about. There is apparently no other way to start a conversation in England. Fortunately her anthropological study of this cold island culture, Watching the English, gives me plenty to choose from. Her work is a guidebook on a peoples infamous for their peculiarities. But a recent trip to England myself leaves me wondering whether it is an updated copy.

             After a quick introduction positing that the English have, in fact, not lost their identity, Ms. Fox jumps right into explaining what that identity is. The answers abound in subtlety. For Englishness is not derived from the Queen’s eminence, double-decker buses, or those cute little telephone boxes peppered throughout London. The English identity is defined by a carefully managed and persistent lack of communication. Fox’s book describes how consistently blundered forms of correspondence run rampant throughout society. From muted hellos to extemporaneous goodbyes, Englishness is driven by apprehension and unease. But even this is too simplified an explanation when talking about the English. The country’s class system muddies any sort of easily definable set of social cues, ascribing unique rules to individuals depending on what rung of society they appear to be hanging onto.

            In addressing this controversial issue of class, Fox illuminates how it is as relevant today as it was a century ago. Seemingly incongruous with its prevalence, the English are largely uncomfortable with the role it plays in their society. Fox appears to believe its longevity is a result of its utter saturation. From how one purchases toilet paper in the supermarket (don’t actually say toilet if you aspire to something more than being described by the hue of blue on your collar), to the inclusion or exclusion of vowels and consonants, class is a permanent fixture in the culture. George Bernard Shaw drives this point home stating, “ It is impossible for an Englishman to open his mouth without making some other Englishman hate him or despise him.” Vernacular, however, is not the sole purveyor of class. The other indicators are more overt and less English-specific. Sure, how one dresses can be as big of a red flag as saying “serviette”, but this is a fairly international norm. The larger point is that no aspect of English culture escapes demarcation by class.

            According to Watching the English, humor’s equally prevalent nature in society helps to offset the tensions caused by the strictures of class. Fox points to the “value…put on humor” as the reason for its predominance. Used to disarm situations, counteract banality and even make new friends, humor affords the English a multifaceted “default mode”. It also combats one of Englishness’ biggest no-nos: earnestness. Taking oneself too seriously invites swift excommunication from the English ranks. In fact, Fox treats earnestness as a litmus test for visible levels of assimilation. If your understanding of the distinction between seriousness and solemnity fails to be nuanced enough, “you will never feel…entirely at home in conversation with the English.”

            As a foreigner, not all of these phenomenons are obvious. Even with Watching the English as my guide, class is perhaps too idiosyncratic to be discernible to the casual cultural observer. Social unease was the most glaring of the bunch. In my capacity as a visiting student at Oxford, I found social awkwardness present in many interactions. A surprising amount of lecturers exhibited these characteristics as well. At lunch, some were very timid when conversing on matters unrelated to our class work of the day. However, humor was always present. True to Fox’s observations, self-deprecation brought more than its fair share of smiles. Self-deprecation also served to break Oxford’s (most likely unfair) stereotype of complete and utter earnestness. Class discussions were always serious but never too serious. Then again, it makes sense for one of England’s most historic and traditional institutions to abide by the country’s own set of rules, no matter how peculiar.

            Before we could achieve this more jocular banter between the students and the instructors we had to suffer through the notoriously awkward introduction period. Although Fox stresses the difficulty inherent in the initial greeting, I found the period right after to be the more challenging. The notion of “over-formality” cited as a greeting issue did not surface until both parties sought the right mixture of friendliness and professionalism. Initial conversations were stilted and the traditional questions (Where are you from? What brought you to Oxford?) were offered with a touch of insincerity. Once some semblance of a relationship had been established the awkward pretenses largely disappeared. Only a handful of times did an uncomfortable transition or two rear its head. Fox’s “no-name rule” also quickly became obvious. As Americans are used to immediately presenting their name to the opposite party upon an introduction, I did so without hesitation. After a few of these I noticed that all I received in return was a mildly inquisitive half-nod. Only until I reached a “greater degree of intimacy” was name giving reciprocated.

            The most readily apparent of all of Watching the English’s accounts of society was queuing. Not only was this word acutely present in instructions from bartenders, hosts and store clerks, but only the non-English needed to heed the message. Natives queued up without hesitation almost everywhere. In the smallest of shops with the littlest of room, to the outside vendor with unlimited space, queues were formed. They were respected too. No one “jumped the queue” and people were very mindful of filing in from the rear. However, while on a grocery run to Sainsbury’s a guest lecturer from the first night of the Oxford program was queued up slightly behind me. As an older gentlemen found his way in front of him (thus inadvertently jumping the queue) he spoke up instantly. After lecturing the gentleman on the rules of queuing he was excused and not asked to remove himself from the line because he was indeed much older. Ironically, this event proved contrary to the English’s aversion to confrontation. According to Fox, infractions of this nature are normally suffered by the rest of the group for fear of having to converse with the offending party. Usually a throat-clearing or loud shuffle will suffice.  

            Despite these examples, most of Fox’s more tangential musings on the English were almost entirely unrepresented in my experiences. For instance, her chapter on “Pub Rules” took great pain to describe the social facilitating role that games in the pub play. Used for everything including chatting up women, pub games played a central role in Fox’s study. However, I spotted not a single billiards table or dartboard in my over two weeks in the country. Fox also mentions the abhorrence of cell phone use or loud conversation on public transportation. On the Tube in London I spotted these invasions of the coveted English privacy everywhere; Most were unaccompanied by the loud throat clearing or pointed glares Fox described as responses to such infractions. In many ways, public transportation was no different from my experiences in the United States. To be fair, Oxford was in the midst of tourist season and London may be no different from other big cities in this regard.

            Many of the other things mentioned in Watching the English can’t be uncovered without spending significantly more time in the country. Fox’s work is a nuanced take on a nuanced culture - fascinating to the outside reader but inapplicable outside the first third of the book where the most practical information for travelers resides. But this is not a guidebook for travelers. It is a study on a culture, and a fine one at that. Fox analyses the everyday minutiae we never think to ponder of our own cultures. She looks at the subtle interactions we would never see. She asks why – a lot. And we are the better for it. By revealing the foundations of a society not too dissimilar from our own we can better appreciate the idiosyncrasies that make ours special. What Fox has given us is an entertaining read and an important addition to the study of human interaction. She proves that anthropology is not only still relevant but crucial to modern social science. Staying true to her subject, we even get a few laughs along the way. After all, being too earnest is un-English.  

In the Hands of a Few: A Review of Who Run's Britain?

The question of who runs a country is deceptively complex. We could be forgiven if our first response was “the government”.  After all, that's why we hold elections isn't it? According to Robert Peston’s brilliant page-turner “Who Runs Britain?” this answer is a bit naive. In the process of explaining why, Peston transforms every cynical thought we ever had about money’s influence over power into a real story. Apparently “the government” doesn’t quite cover all the bases. In fact, Peston makes it clear that the government cedes more and more control over the British economy everyday. So then who runs Britain? Apparently not very many people - and most of them aren’t elected.

Peston's book opens with the story of him in his grade school years enthusiastically extolling the virtues of progressive egalitarianism. In his household fairness and equity were seen as the most important attributes a modern economy could possess. Then Peston turned 19. With the election of Margaret Thatcher, and a bit more schooling under his belt, he began to see rising inequality in income not as something that needed to be fixed, but as a phenomenon necessary to Britain’s growth. Peston’s newfound love for capitalism only strengthened through stints at the BBC, Sunday Telegraph and the Financial Times. The author was transformed into an unflinching “advocate for wealth creators.” And that’s exactly what “Who Runs Britain” is – a championing of human generators of wealth. But it is also a cautionary tale, for it seems Peston has come full circle. As each account of capitalism’s extraordinary accomplishments comes to a close, Peston’s 18-year-old self quietly reminds us that perhaps some of this praise is premature. “Who Runs Britain” soon begs the question of not whether money can actually buy everything, but rather, how is it currently doing so? And is this a good thing?

Explaining how is where this book excels, as Peston is at his best when he is telling a story. The mechanics of modern capitalism are revealed; backroom negotiations worth billions of pounds are brought under a microscope; and superheroes are made out of the upper echelons of hedge funds and private equity firms. Each chapter does an excellent job of explaining how these institutions work and why we should both celebrate their accomplishments and fret their proliferation. The most important contribution of this book is to show how these institutions are channeling money into the hands of fewer and fewer people. The new capitalism is no longer run by companies the size of General Motors or Marks and Spencer; instead, tens of a billions of pounds are manipulated by a handful of companies with staff totaling less than fifty. Sometimes, as one of the many Philip Green stories depicts, these sums can be raised by a single individual almost overnight. The consequences of this consolidation of wealth are extraordinary. Britain, it seems, is no longer run by Parliament.

As Peston illustrates how the financial industry has increased its influence in London, he also reveals the government’s subsequent fall. Ironically, it’s largely of their own doing. While Labour undergoes an internal struggle over how to appear more business-friendly, the issue of "fairly" taxing The City is purposefully swept under the rug. Scared that Britain's financial sector is going to move overseas, Gordon Brown (and previously Tony Blair), defines income in ways that establishes a tax haven for the massively wealthy. While playing to what it thinks the public wants to see, Parliament has shouldered them with a heavy tax burden in the process. After all, if the rich won’t pay taxes someone must. These concessions to the financial sector have fueled rapid wealth generation - ostensibly a good thing. But Peston argues that people are only paying attention to the growth in wealth, not its consolidation. Herein lies the problem: with Labour eager to please The City, the financial sector has acquired massive leverage over the government. By funding Labour’s campaigns, the superheroes of the entrepreneurial world have been awarded advisory roles in Committees and Lordships in Parliament. As these two pillars of power blur their lines the British polity is sidelined. Peston elucidates how this has been both a conscious choice of the government and a costly oversight.

    What's interesting about "Who Runs Britain" is how its author treats all of this. Throughout Peston is simultaneously amazed and apprehensive about the effects modern financial engineering is having on the economy. He is quick to espouse the virtues of efficient capital allocation, but uncertain of what that means if only a few benefit. Peston implicitly questions whether the economy is indeed growing if none of the spoils of capitalism are being injected back into it. As the chapters go by he seems less impressed with the clever machinations of the capitalist superheroes and more worried about the long-term effects on the economy.

In the penultimate chapter, the story of Allan Leighton appears to restore his confidence. A fierce entrepreneur on the level of Philip Green, Mr. Leighton comes to the rescue of the British mail service. Employing many of the same methods the executives from the private equity firms and hedge funds use, Royal Mail exhibited a stark turn around. But this again concentrated power into the hands of a few (or in this case, one). It also subjugated the government – underscoring the hard truth that at the end of the day, money wields more influence than the people we elect. But Peston uses this story to show what capitalism can do when focused in the right places. The British polity doesn’t always have to lose with the application of free market principles.

On his way to the conclusion Peston stumbles a bit. For instance: illogical organization of the chapters undermines the composition’s flow. One moment we are privy to backroom dealings of the attempted takeover of Marks and Spencer - one of Britain's most prestigious and powerful firms - while the next Peston is discussing the origins of the financial crisis. Though his explanation is not entirely out of step with the themes of the book, the ubiquity of material currently available on the subject renders his addition unnecessary.

Peston is also at his weakest when he is preaching. Many of the chapters contain mini-conclusions where he warns us of the sometimes-questionable morality of capitalism. These unnecessary and weak diatribes sideline his usually cogent journalistic tendencies. Peston’s own final conclusion is no more than an amalgamation of each of the chapter’s ending remarks. Not only lacking punch, these off-handed sentiments feel obligatory and uncommitted. Perhaps in an effort to identify with popular public opinion on the state of capitalism Peston felt it necessary to say at least something about the economy’s current woes. It appears to be no more than an attempt to renew the book’s relevance with the release of the paperback edition.

However, these missteps do not detract from the importance of this book or its general enjoyment. At worst, they are forgettable inclusions. His exposition on the machinery of modern finance, and the power that private equity firms and hedge funds wield, is riveting and invaluable. We learn much about the inner-workings of the new modern capitalism that would justify many of our more cynical sentiments. The facts are clear throughout: large swathes of the economy are being systematically purchased by a handful of individuals and small firms; money and power have consolidated in the hands of fewer and fewer people; and money really can buy everything.

Peston takes great pains to show us that finance has the ability to exert substantial influence in many sectors of the country. When Labour was in need, a handful of individuals helped nurse it back to health. Subsequently, the tax code has been carefully massaged to keep the extremely wealthy effectively tax-free. Moreover, Lordships and political advisory positions are used as thank you cards for substantial party contributors. This confluence of money and power is remarkable, and Peston makes it downright scary. “Who Runs Britain” is both a celebration of what we can achieve and a cautionary tale on the consequences of those achievements. Peston commands our awe and elicits our fear. It is a dichotomous tome on the superheroes of the business community - one that is a thrilling read and a valuable education. So who in fact runs Britain? A collection of individuals in the government and finance… and they all know each other. Better hope trickle down economics works.