Alexander Chancellor and Sarah Lyall
The Afghans: Did They Jump or Were They Pushed?
By Alexander Chancellor
Posted Tuesday, Feb. 15, 2000, at 3:46 PM ETDear Sarah,
Thanks very much for your last letter. I am with you in admiring the Guardian's "Corrections and Clarifications" column. I don't know why every paper in Britain doesn't have one. I think it may be to do with the competitive atmosphere in Fleet Street: We still have 11 national daily newspapers, I think, which makes them loath to expose themselves to ridicule by the others by admitting to silly mistakes. But they are wrong. For perfectly understandable reasons, journalists in this country rank lower in public esteem than any other category of professional worker except real-estate agents. Confessing to our mistakes might push us up a notch or two in the opinion polls. What is my worst ever mistake? Gosh, there have been so many in 34 years of practicing journalism. But I will tell you the spookiest.
One day in the early '70s, when I was Reuters bureau chief in Rome, I wrote a story completely misrepresenting the views of the then Archbishop of Paris, Cardinal Marty, as he had expressed them in a closed Vatican conference of bishops. I had him attacking the pope, when he had done nothing of the kind. In fact, he had supported him. I had completely misunderstood a press briefing by some Dutch priest. I was sitting in my office in the Piazza di Spagna, which had a terrace all the way round it, anxiously writing a confession to the head office when the door opened from the terrace to admit a man in a red skullcap whose opening words were: "Excusez-moi. Je suis l'Archevêque de Paris." And he was the Archbishop of Paris. He had coincidentally been taking tea with a French journalist in the office next door and was taking a look around. I thought he would strike me dead or something, but, knowing nothing about my dreadful mistake, he couldn't have been nicer.
This is the second time in two days you have been surprised by something that doesn't surprise me. "I'm surprised at how many people I know and like are royalists, and not even secretly," you say. I wrote somewhere the other day that I have difficulty with people I know and like who support capital punishment. You seem to view support of the monarchy in rather the same way. Why? In the European Union there are six monarchies apart from ours: Spain, Holland, Belgium, Norway, Denmark, and Sweden. Nobody considers those countries less democratic, less free, or more class-ridden than the rest. Maybe Britain is a bit different, but yes, I do want to keep the monarchy, mainly because it has been there for an awfully long time and I don't like change. Also because it is still loved by most of the people, and I am a democrat. Those may be rather superficial reasons, but anyway, what does it matter? I would be interested to know how you think this country would improve if it became a republic.
Like everyone else, both you and I were surprised, I think, when the number of Afghan hijack hostages wanting to return home rather than seek asylum in Britain suddenly jumped from 17 to 73. I agree with you that it can't be only because they found that the British "weather was depressing and the food was awful," as one of them reportedly said on their arrival back in Kandahar. Either you are right and he was fed his line by a Reuters reporter or he is a very sophisticated Afghan who knows that this is what foreigners have always said about Britain. It also seems improbable that they changed their minds when they were moved from a Sheraton hotel to a less commodious holding center in Moreton-in-Marsh. The true reason for the hostages' departure may have been revealed in today's London Times, which quoted many of them as saying on the plane that they didn't really want to go home at all, but had been "bullied and intimidated" into submission by British immigration officials.
Goodnight, Sarah. Have a good evening.
Alexander xxxxxxxxxxxxx
The Afghans: Did They Jump or Were They Pushed?
By Alexander Chancellor
Posted Tuesday, Feb. 15, 2000, at 3:46 PM ETAlexander Chancellor writes Slate's “International Papers” and a column for the Guardian. Sarah Lyall is a reporter in the London bureau of the New York Times. Highlights from The Fray:
I'm somewhat stupefied over the choice that your magazine made regarding this week's Breakfast Table. Frankly, as an American political junkie, I find it unfathomable that, with one of the most exciting, compelling presidential primary weeks in recent electoral history upon us, you saw fit to have as your Breakfast Table guests this week two expatriates who spent their time debating the fascinating details of British table condiments.
--Lonnie W. Neubauer
(To reply, click
here.)
(But not everyone agreed -
Doug Richardson
replied that
A dollop of painless prattle about condiments is becoming, day by day, more appetizing than the great trough of swill served up by the four cretins who have captivated every marginally literate person with a word processor--I look to Slate for a little of everything on my plate.
And other Fraygrants were happy to deal with the whole wide range of Breakfast Table subjects:)
It's nice to find amidst the stuff about ketchup, Americanisms, Bush vs McCain, and salad cream, an admission of the problems of the British National Health system [Wednesday's entry]. Throughout the great healthcare "debate" of 1992-1994 we were told over and over again that the single-payer system was the way to go, with Britain and Canada cited admiringly. Now who's ready to admit that rationing would be necessary in any kind of scheme to extend healthcare to everyone in the U.S.?
--Edward Brynes
(To reply, click
here.)
To Edward Brynes:
Don't you think that the current American health-care system rations access? It is, in practice, unavailable to approximately 43 million people.
--June Thomas
(To reply, click
here.)
In reply:
Medical care is not actually unavailable to people without insurance, but certainly it is very costly. That's not the same situation as rationing, which to me implies a deliberate policy of allocating treatment according to medical need and feasibility of treatment.
Normally someone in the U.S. with insurance coverage is assured abundant care and little waiting even if there is reason to believe that with all the care in the world he or she won't live more than a few months anyway or will live a greatly impaired life. There is a different philosophy in Britain. Many people, not heartless monsters, have asked what value there can be in maintaining, by complex expensive technology, people in such a situation. Rationing has the effect of freeing up resources.
--Edward Brynes
(To reply, click
here.)
Norway is not a member of the European Union [Tuesday's entry].
--Marian
(To reply, click
here.)
What I've always wanted to know is: Is catsup the same as ketchup? [Wednesday's entry] I've always had a suspicion that catsup was more "U" than ketchup - wasn't there a British, ie non-Heinz variety, called catsup in the '50s? Don't know what the fuss is about salad cream, incidentally. It's just bottled mayonnaise--not very good mayonnaise, sure, but that's not the point. The point is the name; you wouldn't have got my Mum buying something called mayonnaise, but salad cream was nice and homely.
--michael elliott
(To reply, click
here.)
This is a dreadful error of culinary history: no the British did NOT invent catsup. Like many things adopted during the Imperial years, it is an Indian condiment. I have read various spellings of the word, but "ketchep" will do. It is a kind of chutney, not always tomato, but sweet rather than hot, like lemon pickle. My favorite recipe is one that uses sweet red peppers, roasted, skinned, and macerated into a pulp which is then simmered with vinegar, sultanas, onion, garlic, ginger, cardamom, and cinnamon. My private joke is to then blend it all (not really authentic) and serve it with an East Indian meal, in a Heinz pourable catsup bottle. It is just a bit more orange, but no one notices. It tastes nothing like the American product of course, and is tangy and delicious. Bon Appétit!
--Apollonius
(To reply, click
here.)
(2/18)
St. Valentine [Monday's entry] is the patron saint of MESSAGES, because while he was imprisoned he threw little messages out of his cell to cheer up the Christians. Hence St. Valentine's Day is a day to send messages to those important to you. Since the Christian message is "Jesus loves you" and "see how they love one another" and so on, "love" notes come immediately to mind. Since we use only one word for all of the kinds of love (unlike the Greeks), and since we needed a February holiday to buy cards and gifts for (really, study the history of Valentine cards), the target for and meaning of the Valentine changed to more physical ones. The arrows business may come from St. Valentine's execution by being shot through the heart with many arrows.
--tony zapf
(To reply, click
here.)
(2/15)
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Highlights from The Fray:
I'm somewhat stupefied over the choice that your magazine made regarding this week's Breakfast Table. Frankly, as an American political junkie, I find it unfathomable that, with one of the most exciting, compelling presidential primary weeks in recent electoral history upon us, you saw fit to have as your Breakfast Table guests this week two expatriates who spent their time debating the fascinating details of British table condiments.
--Lonnie W. Neubauer
(To reply, click here.)
(But not everyone agreed - Doug Richardson replied that
A dollop of painless prattle about condiments is becoming, day by day, more appetizing than the great trough of swill served up by the four cretins who have captivated every marginally literate person with a word processor--I look to Slate for a little of everything on my plate.
And other Fraygrants were happy to deal with the whole wide range of Breakfast Table subjects:)
It's nice to find amidst the stuff about ketchup, Americanisms, Bush vs McCain, and salad cream, an admission of the problems of the British National Health system [Wednesday's entry]. Throughout the great healthcare "debate" of 1992-1994 we were told over and over again that the single-payer system was the way to go, with Britain and Canada cited admiringly. Now who's ready to admit that rationing would be necessary in any kind of scheme to extend healthcare to everyone in the U.S.?
--Edward Brynes
(To reply, click here.)
To Edward Brynes:
Don't you think that the current American health-care system rations access? It is, in practice, unavailable to approximately 43 million people.
--June Thomas
(To reply, click here.)
In reply:
Medical care is not actually unavailable to people without insurance, but certainly it is very costly. That's not the same situation as rationing, which to me implies a deliberate policy of allocating treatment according to medical need and feasibility of treatment.
Normally someone in the U.S. with insurance coverage is assured abundant care and little waiting even if there is reason to believe that with all the care in the world he or she won't live more than a few months anyway or will live a greatly impaired life. There is a different philosophy in Britain. Many people, not heartless monsters, have asked what value there can be in maintaining, by complex expensive technology, people in such a situation. Rationing has the effect of freeing up resources.
--Edward Brynes
(To reply, click here.)
Norway is not a member of the European Union [Tuesday's entry].
--Marian
(To reply, click here.)
What I've always wanted to know is: Is catsup the same as ketchup? [Wednesday's entry] I've always had a suspicion that catsup was more "U" than ketchup - wasn't there a British, ie non-Heinz variety, called catsup in the '50s? Don't know what the fuss is about salad cream, incidentally. It's just bottled mayonnaise--not very good mayonnaise, sure, but that's not the point. The point is the name; you wouldn't have got my Mum buying something called mayonnaise, but salad cream was nice and homely.
--michael elliott
(To reply, click here.)
This is a dreadful error of culinary history: no the British did NOT invent catsup. Like many things adopted during the Imperial years, it is an Indian condiment. I have read various spellings of the word, but "ketchep" will do. It is a kind of chutney, not always tomato, but sweet rather than hot, like lemon pickle. My favorite recipe is one that uses sweet red peppers, roasted, skinned, and macerated into a pulp which is then simmered with vinegar, sultanas, onion, garlic, ginger, cardamom, and cinnamon. My private joke is to then blend it all (not really authentic) and serve it with an East Indian meal, in a Heinz pourable catsup bottle. It is just a bit more orange, but no one notices. It tastes nothing like the American product of course, and is tangy and delicious. Bon Appétit!
--Apollonius
(To reply, click here.)
(2/18)
St. Valentine [Monday's entry] is the patron saint of MESSAGES, because while he was imprisoned he threw little messages out of his cell to cheer up the Christians. Hence St. Valentine's Day is a day to send messages to those important to you. Since the Christian message is "Jesus loves you" and "see how they love one another" and so on, "love" notes come immediately to mind. Since we use only one word for all of the kinds of love (unlike the Greeks), and since we needed a February holiday to buy cards and gifts for (really, study the history of Valentine cards), the target for and meaning of the Valentine changed to more physical ones. The arrows business may come from St. Valentine's execution by being shot through the heart with many arrows.
--tony zapf
(To reply, click here.)
(2/15)