As a frustrated writer who’s been creating novella/novel-length science fiction since before graduating ninth grade(but publishing none of it, probably because of Asperger’s–now called Autism Spectrum Disorder), I’ve been half-gratified and half-horrified to see some of my predictions come true over forty years of writing and looking back.
By and far the most horrifying of my predictions was political correctness. I’ve watched this mind-virus spread ever since the ninth grade, when the government-school inoculation/indoctrination program–a course called ‘Prejudice and Discrimination’–failed to immunize me against thinking for myself. (In retrospect, they should’ve put me into the House of Lords, where ‘if they’ve a brain and cerebellum too/They’ve got to leave that brain outside/And do just what their leaders tell ’em to.’ Thank you, Sir W.S. Gilbert, for Iolanthe.)
Most of my reaction was likely sheer adolescent cussedness(well, say 90%). Sturgeon’s Law tells us that ninety percent of everything is crap, and that was the ninety percent. However, the ten percent that wasn’t crap stuck in my head. Unpleasant experience taught me that whatever that school administration wanted us to think was probably more for their convenience than our benefit.(They proved this when both the principal and the vice-principal got caught skimming the soda machine and snack bar revenues; I seem to remember that both went to jail.) I found the course material so objectionable that I wrote, mostly during class time in that agitprop class, a dystopian novel about a future when that form of indoctrination became compulsory, being administered through government re-education camps very similar to those the Communists were using at the time. (I wish I hadn’t lost the manuscript, but it was in longhand and there was only one copy, in smudgy pencil.)
The evidence of my life, viewed through an Asperger’s lens, told me that most of what they taught in that course was, to quote a great and almost forgotten writer, E.E. Smith, PhD, ‘…soft-soap, balloon juice, and flap-doodle.’ (Not surprising, as that school couldn’t teach algebra either: I’d’v’e struggled a lot less if someone had told me the algebraic sequence in eighth grade instead of leaving me to figure it out in 12th grade Calculus.) Those life lessons: most black kids were dumb as lighter knot, (except for the ones in ROTC, who were on my level) oriental kids were smart but as socially clueless as I was, and Hispanic kids fell somewhere above the blacks, but generally below whites and orientals. (I could’ve written a reasonable facsimile of The Bell Curve in my senior year if the statistics were available, but the Internet was still reserved for keeping real-time communications open between our strategic military sites, the best civilian computers were Sinclairs, Radio Shack’s Color Computer, and Commodores, and even dot-matrix printers were a primitive, expensive joke.)
In college, I learned that the indoctrination program had a name: Political Correctness. I was too busy studying to give it much mind, but I kept my eyes and ears open. I watched it spread through the softer majors(journalism and sociology in particular) and marveled that people could be that stupid; calling a skunk a dozen roses didn’t make it stink any less. The evil genius Stephen J. Gould brought out a bunch of popular books–nobody seemed to remember he was a Communist–and the PC beat went on, until E.O. Wilson wrote Sociobiology and caused a kerfuffle because his theories about the heritability of intelligence couldn’t be disproved.
Two degrees later, I struggled along with work, well under my potential because the Asperger’s kept me from playing the social game. I wound up, much to my personal shame and sense of failure, working for state government as a health inspector until I finally retired. All this time I wrote to keep my sanity and to escape from a nigh-incomprehensible world. And all this time I watched political correctness grow, now more a cancer than a virus, choking honest discourse out of both politics and private life. We got a brief respite in 1994 with the publication of The Bell Curve, a book which, had it come out in 1978 or sooner, could have strangled the satanic abomination in its befouled, collectivist crib.
The century turned. Steven J. Gould died, nastily, of cancer, and researchers picked apart his work over its overt ideological bias. Then at some time in the ’00s, a Chinese geneticist named Bruce Lahn, working in the US, discovered that a gene modulating brain structure and efficiency entered the human population 32,000 years ago. He suggested, but could not prove at the time, that the source was a Neanderthal in the woodshed. He did observe that this gene was rare in Africa but common in the rest of the world. Political Correctness could not let this stand, and the fever-swamp that passes for modern journalism belched forth its miasmic bombast, ultimately claiming, in a peripherally related skirmish, the head of James Watson, Nobel Laureate and co-discoverer of DNA.
But the evidence just kept rolling in, when the Neanderthal genome was sequenced in 2010 and re-sequenced in 2012-13. Neanderthal admixture appears to have occurred right around the time Lahn’s work predicted, if not slightly before, in populations ancestral to both Europeans and Asiatics, but NOT Africans. The evidence was there but, as with the deceased Gould, “…ideological stance was supreme(Partial quote from Ralph Holloway, one of the six researchers who analyzed Gould’s The Mismeasure of Man, and found Gould’s methodology deficient).’
Political Correctness when, as always, found wanting on the facts, resorts to misdirection, calumny, and rioting, hence the recent and unpleasant controversy about the Confederate Naval Jack. PC, plus lack of critical thinking skills, has led the more mentally impoverished members of the Professionally Aggrieved class to assault, property damage, and threats toward those who carry that Prog-abhorred symbol. (Confederate Flag Backers Upset With Treatment, Panama City News Herald, 7/28/2015, page B1; oddly enough, I can’t find it in their website) Supposedly a nearby Deputy Sheriff did nothing to stop this criminal behavior, which occurred in Okaloosa County, Florida.
At the risk of gloating, I’m forced to say, “I bloody well told you so, yer feckless wankers!” That language is reserved for the left-wingers who pooh-poohed my concerns back in the day. Some of them haven’t lived to see my predictions play out, and I don’t remember most of their names(Asperger’s will do that to you). I care only in that their ideological ‘correction’ of the language facilitated, and continues to facilitate, the political perversion called oligarchical collectivism.
At heart, I hate politics, but I’ve learned over the years to ignore it at my peril, much as those who live in the vicinity of an active volcano–if they have enough brains to pour water out of a boot–pay attention to what’s going on up on the peak, even though they’d rather be doing almost anything else. We as a nation have arrived at the point where a piece of colored cloth can get you assaulted, battered, and eventually worse(this was a peculiar danger, common in the Third World, but here confined to members of street gangs and those who lived in or passed through areas they controlled, at least until lately), although I don’t know of anyone in this century or the last who has been killed over the Confederate Naval Jack.
It’s time to push back, whatever your opinion of that venerable banner. If you suffer assault, theft, and property damage related to Political Correctness, report it to the police and lean on them until they act. If you carry concealed, and live in a Stand Your Ground state, use your weapon… as long as you have fear for your life, have favorable witnesses, and are paid up on your legal insurance. Sadly, honor doesn’t play well in court, and you can be sure your assailant has none: where’s Lt. Worf when you need him?
Please note that I am advocating neither criminal behavior nor initiation of force here, merely appropriate action in defense of life, limb, or property. Political Correctness recognizes no right to self-defense for we the politically incorrect; nation-wide, however, if enough of these bucket-heads stop a projectile, a blade, a tire iron, a 2×4, or even a fist, this cancer on the body politic will eventually wither or explode into violent overreach. In the latter case, it’ll be time to make Progressives give their lives for the political abomination they lust to fasten upon us all.
Some Progressives count on fomenting a violent insurrection to provide an excuse to deprive us of our Constitutional rights but, lacking the ability to predict consequences of actions and the future-time orientation that would require, those wights never foresee that their head might be the one curb-stomped or that their neck might be the recipient of a flaming tire(Nelson Mandela was famous for that little trick, but no Prog will admit it, because that would mean that their hero had feet of clay… or some other, more redolent substance!).
Thomas Jefferson had a quote about the tree of liberty requiring blood fertilizer, the source of which being patriots and tyrants. I’d add simpletons to the mix, since it is with the simple that Political Correctness seems to most easily take root. Sadly, it appears that, in the near future, the only correction fluid that can correct Political Correctness may be spilled blood.