The Prime Minister of Canada, Justin Trudeau, who identifies as a Catholic (as they say in the transgender movement), has told pro-life groups that they are “not in line with society”.
Surely not being a social conformist is something to be proud of? Surely thinking for yourself, and following what you believe to be right, is rather more admirable – and more radical, too – than “being in line with society”?
How many great reformers throughout the ages have “not been in line with society”? Almost every decent social change we enjoy today was pioneered by people who were “not in line with society”.
Campaigners against racism and slavery were “not in line with society”, when established thinking reprimanded them for interfering with trade, business and social order. Florence Nightingale had to battle her way against apathy and narrow attitudes to effect change in the nursing profession.
The Suffragettes were so out of line with what society thought proper that they were subjected to horrible force-feeding by wardens brought in from Victorian mental hospitals – even King George V, at the apex of society, deplored it.
The good and the great of society once thought that eugenics were wonderfully progressive: the notion that the feeble should be exterminated was widely embraced, from Winston Churchill to George Bernard Shaw. The Catholic Church and a few radicals on the Left were alone in resisting the idea.
In the First World War, conscientious objectors were taunted, mocked, thrown into prison, boycotted and frequently described as cowards because they could not conform to society’s view that mass slaughter in the trenches was the proper conduct of warfare.
On a lighter note, “society” decided, in the 1950s, that the railway and the tram were things of the past, and the future belonged to the motor car. A few eccentric train and tram enthusiasts still championed this form of public transport. And they’ve been proved right: we are now in a new age of the train. Dublin has just revived a terrific tram network, having abolished its trams in 1950, because that was “in line with society”.
Mr Trudeau, whose own mother made headlines in a hippy era, should learn to be more radical in his thinking.
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Priests were once portrayed in movies as heroic or caring figures, like Montgomery Clift in I Confess or Spencer Tracy in Boys Town. Currently, they’re more likely to be presented as creeps or sanctimonious hypocrites. And thus it is in the film written, directed and produced by the London-Irish playwright Martin McDonagh, Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri.
McDonagh has a powerful dramatic gift, and his characters are often violent and unsympathetic. So it is with Three Billboards, which, as the title implies, starts with three roadside posters erected outside a small Missouri town. They’ve been put there by Mildred Hayes, an enraged harridan who has good reason to be angry: her daughter was raped and murdered and the police, some being idle and racist, have made no progress with the case.
But the town is embarrassed by the billboards, and the local priest visits Mildred to make that point, adding that if she’d come to church more often maybe she’d be in a better place. She answers with a stream of invective, and the cleric is made to look small and pusillanimous.
The cinema where I saw it was packed and there were queues for the next screening. McDonagh certainly obeys Henry James’s advice to authors: dramatise, dramatise – to the point of outright melodrama. I admire his work, but the world he portrays is often lawless and amoral – there seem to be no laws against assault, or no consequences to arbitrary violent actions, in full view of witnesses. The audience loved it.
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A friend was telling me about a woman he knew who was walking down a New York street in a fur coat when she was upbraided by an animal rights protester.
“Do you know how many helpless creatures had to die to provide that fur coat for you?” demanded the protester angrily.
“Yes,” said the woman brightly. “One. My aunt died and left it to me!”
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