In 1983, I was a very young and nervous writer for Britain’s New Statesman magazine. One day, I was asked to interview the children’s author Roald Dahl, who had reviewed a book about the war in Lebanon that went far beyond criticism of Israel and bordered on downright anti-Semitism. I assumed that he would explain the difference between anti-Zionism and anti-Semitism and clarify his stance. What he said instead was, “There is a trait in the Jewish character that does provoke animosity; maybe it’s a kind of lack of generosity towards non-Jews. I mean, there’s always a reason why anti-anything crops up anywhere; even a stinker like Hitler didn’t just pick on them for no reason.” The rant continued, with references to Jewish men not fighting in the Second World War. When I told Dahl that my Jewish grandfather had won several medals and been wounded, and that Jews were over- rather than under-represented, he refused to withdraw his comments or apologize. I mention this again now because Dahl’s publishers announced earlier this year that they were intending to produce versions of his books with allegedly offensive words such as “fat” and “ugly” removed. Not, it should be emphasized, because generations of children and parents who read the books had suddenly and tearfully complained but because, if we’re to be candid, someone, somewhere thought that they might cause offence. The angry reaction to the idea was so strong that the publishers eventually changed their minds, or at least hedged their bets. The criticism came not just from the usual types who see dangerous censorship everywhere, but from leading authors and intellectuals, as well as just ordinary people who considered the move to be ridiculous. Understandably, because it was ridiculous, and also a very stupid idea indeed. Am I still allowed to say stupid? Too late, I’ve said it now. Dahl was an anti-Semite. I know that better than most people. He was a nasty man with repugnant ideas. He was also a gifted author who understood children’s minds and fantasies. Those of us who have raised children know that they’re not as fragile as some “experts” like to think. Also – and this is absolutely vital – we can read and enjoy him while still detesting his racism. This entire issue requires sense, sensibility and basic common sense. In 2011, the great movie director Peter Jackson commissioned Stephen Fry to write the screenplay for a remake of The Dambusters. Guy Gibson, the heroic commander of the RAF squadron who featured in the 1955 movie, owned a black Labrador dog. It was named the N word. Pilots used the dog’s name to signal successful attacks. Thus, it was used repeatedly in the original movie. Quite clearly, it would be deeply offensive and just bizarre to use the word now and Stephen, a man who I’m flattered to call a friend and who is extremely suspicious of any form of censorship, gently and wisely changed it to Digger. There was, however, outrage. For some people, it was as if a tiny edit that did nothing to change the story was a monumental act of what they described as political correctness. They were wrong. I can listen to and relish Wagner while despising his politics, and can read many early 20th-century novelists and manage to ignore the occasional jarringly anachronistic and troubling epithets and descriptions. Because I can make up my own mind, make decisions, judge, and act accordingly. I don’t have to be told and have my hand held, or perhaps gripped. There’s room and need for editing because language is not only mutable, it can cause profound harm. Usually it’s obvious, and most people agree. It’s when control becomes more important than sensitivity that we encounter problems, and that’s clearly what happened here. When I was 14 years old, I had to study Shakespeare’s Henry IV Part One. At one point Falstaff, a central character, claims to have defeated numerous opponents. If he’s lying, he says, “I am a Jew else: an Ebrew Jew.” There were several Jewish students in the class and it was clearly offensive to them. Our teacher couldn’t and didn’t expunge the words, but used them to speak about the evils of anti-Semitism and how we should approach and understand Shakespeare. I’m sure that Roald Dahl would have hated it, but I still don’t think that his books should be changed. Now I’m off to eat a giant peach and then try to win a golden ticket. Opinion with Michael Coren CSANews | SPRING 2023 | 13
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy MzMzNzMx