In Liddle-O Parentis
As a society, we have raised a generation in which a significant portion of those who attend university are babyish, sociopathic tyrants.
Babies, I once heard a psychologist say half in jest, are all sociopaths. They think the world revolves around them, have no idea their actions can hurt others, and manipulate their parents’ emotions by crying and screaming to get their way. They must be socialised out of this and, crucially, told 'No': the world does not revolve around them, they cannot always get what they want, and they must learn to consider the needs, wants and feelings of others. Parents who do not do this find their lives revolving around little tyrants, who throw tantrums every time things do not go their way, and show no gratitude when it does.
I was reminded of this when reading about the latest campus hyper-paroxysm – this time about the visit of Rod Liddle, the Spectator columnist, to Durham University. Mr Liddle is a brilliant and (that rarest of things) naturally funny writer. He also has a gift for enraging the Medusozoans who float around campuses these days, stinging to death anybody who passes through with opinions to the right of Ibram X Kendi.
Mr Liddle’s latest encounter with Homo Studenticus involved the atrocity of giving an after-dinner speech. A number of students walked out, prompting Professor Tim Luckhurst, the Principal of South College, who had invited Mr Liddle, to exclaim “Pathetic!” With disheartening inevitability, the university has opened an investigation into why Mr Liddle was invited in the first place, Professor Luckhurst has been forced into grovelling contrition, and the students protesting have refused to accept the apology.
In fact, Sean Hannigan, the 22-year-old holder of that most illustrious of titles, President of the Junior Common Room at South College, addressed 300 students and goaded them to stop paying their rent – presumably until the lives of Mr Liddle and Professor Luckhurst are destroyed. “The only way that the university will listen is if it hits them financially. This country belongs to us, gay people and black people and every person who lives here,” Mr Hannigan raved at the meeting. One assumes that when he contends that Britain belongs “to every person who lives here,” Mr Hannigan is not counting Mr Liddle as a person, as he does indeed live in Britain. Or perhaps that is uncharitable, and Mr Hannigan generously assigns people who think like Mr Liddle the US constitutional three-fifths of personhood.
As a society, we have raised a generation in which a significant portion of those who attend university are babyish, sociopathic tyrants. They are going to have to be told ‘No’ very firmly indeed. This will be painful, because they have been indulged for far too long, and like any spoiled child, it will be much harder to teach them tolerance and restraint now the rot has set in than it would have been to guide them wisely to begin with. However, it must be done, and as a society we must hold firm before the inevitable foot stomping and purple-faced bawling that saying ‘No’ would trigger.
But ‘No’ they must be told.
Mr Hannigan and his 300 anti-Spartans should be informed that anybody who goes on rent strike will be evicted as soon as the law allows. Mr Liddle should be invited back to the university. And then invited again, and again. They should be told that agitating for staff to be sacked for holding, or associating with people who hold, different opinions is unacceptable, and may lead to disciplinary action. And then Durham University must make plain it will brook no further discussion on the matter.
These privileged, emotionally stunted little tyrants must be taught that the world does not revolve around them and that they must learn to tolerate those with whom they disagree. And we must teach them soon, before they graduate and percolate up through Britain’s power structures. Otherwise, struggle sessions, re-education camps and cleansing of the class ranks might become something more than the abstract, historical horror of a faraway land.
