Monday 8 June 2015

City-worker syndrome, Boredom and London's Ten Commandments of Competence.




Well, exams are over which is always nice and I have time on my hands so instead of publishing another essay I thought that 'tis the season for a good rant. So let's get on to pet peeves. There is a long list of questions which compete for the title of most annoying, including "are you in the Parasha" but I think the one that unquestionably takes the proverbial biscuit is the one-two of "what are you studying" followed by "so nu, what are you going to do with that?" As someone who studied history and now doing an MA in Hebrew and Jewish Studies it is a classic combo that I get quite a lot. The looks of bewilderment followed by concern at my indulgence. 

Some people react as though I had replied that I am planning on wrestling goats in the Himalayas for the rest of my life using Daddy's money to fund my alternative lifestyle. Let's make this clear, most people who ask this are perfectly well-meaning and unaware of the connotations of the question, but for quite a long time when facing the barrage of deliveries coming my way, I tried to duck and dive around the subject of 'the future' like an English batsman facing Mitchell Johnson.

See this to illustrate my point as I am aware that for their sins not everyone understands cricket analogies: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Rg_Oqx0NI4.

Because, you see, there is a nice established framework in our part of the world that I and a select group of about three friends don't fit into. History? "Oh, I liked history in school, what are you going to do with that?" "Jewish Studies? Is that like Yeshivah?" Not really. "Do you want to be a rabbi?" Not particularly. "Oh, so what's the point?" Having realised that much of adult life is spent humouring people I have no problem with these conversations. Perhaps I should be touched that people are so concerned by my future. What bothers me is not so much the questions themselves which are part of social niceties, but rather the assumption that underpins them.

To me, it seems that there is some hidden ten commandments of being a competent human being ( reduced to five for lack of imagination) which go something like this:
1. Thou shalt sacrifice any childish fantasies about 'favourite subjects' for a useful degree, preferably in the financial sector. Ideally don't enjoy it and repeat the phrase 'means to an ends' with regularity. 
2. Thou Shalt intern wherever and whenever possible during the first few years of University with regular references to the 'Big Four' and one of their wonderful acronyms. 
3. Thou shalt wear a suit and walk with deliberation and pace towards your nearest tube station staring fixedly at a specific piece of pavement. 
4. Then, hopefully, having interned and work experienced and planned for a significant period of time thou shalt be presented with the golden ticket to the city, with a plan, bonuses and security. 
5. Thou hadst made it and can be considered a reliable, safe and dateable member of society. Ideally do a bit of learning on the side and thou shalt be rocking the free world. 

Well, you get the gist. The tone of this piece might have got me arrested in America fifty years ago. We get it, I hear you say, you want to live on a hippy commune in a fantasy world but when you enter the real world etc... 

Possibly, but this isn't quite the point I'm trying to make. I am not saying the above is wrong, the above is pointless etc. It is not and it would be shamelessly arrogant of me to suggest that it was. The problem, I repeat, is not with the lifestyle itself, do whatever you want, it is the missionising zeal that its adherents appear to possess. For those of us who are on the humanities side of the fence, it feels that we can either become an accountant, lawyer, banker, in 'property', or some office-based combination of the above. Above all, to thine own function be true. 
Otherwise you are lost, a parasite and in need of guidance.

This is a prevalent attitude which I have encountered in our communities, particularly in London but I suppose it is a fairly natural one to have. It seems that people want you to have a clear plan mapped out at the age of 20 or so which carefully boxes your future into a safe compartment. What's the plan? They ask. What's the end game? What are you going to do with life? I didn't realise people were expected to be such philosophers at the age of 18. To prevent the sardonic tone of this blog descending into crude sarcasm let's give a few reasons why it is so irritating to be interrogated in this way: 

1.  It is arrogant and presumptuous. Stop assuming that you are all-knowing. Do you have a plan that has given you/will lead to the perfect life? Shall I find evidence to the contrary and give you a pub quiz about why your plan didn't cater for that particular hiccup? Similarly, I don't ask you whether you are dying of boredom in your office...

2. The premise is a false one. The whole question presumes an inevitable security associated with a particular lifestyle within the city framework and long working hours dealing with subject matter that can often charitably be described as mind-numbing. I would contest that assumption. We cannot tell the future, that is in God's hands alone so chill out a bit and maybe give me a bit of time?  
3. This is the main one: It is such a BORING way of seeing the world. Dull, unadventurous, conditioned, limited, functional, robotic. Boring. So flipping boring. Argghhh.  

There must be some way out of here said the joker to the thief. "There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief. Businessman, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth. None of them along the line know what any of it is worth. 

Why must ideals be so conditioned? Perhaps I have found a passion in life that I feel is worth pursuing even if it carries with it more risks? Perhaps I don't see retirement as the red sun in the distance? If we all lived life according to the assumption of the questioner our roles would be better performed by robots. Sod humans long live computers.

 Let's whip out all the cliches: The journey as opposed to the destination one-liner is something that resonates so often with me. Let us say, questioner, for the sake of argument, that I have no idea what I am doing in the future.  
 Ok, but perhaps I have greatly enjoyed, benefited and developed as a result of my experiences which haven't been purely driven by pragmatism? Have you considered the possibility that expanding horizons may be an ends in itself? Perhaps I have been able to discover things about myself in a framework that is perhaps more conducive to introspection than the magical world of finance? 
Attitudes like this make me begin to understand the appeal of socialism. Why is job or function the determining factor of personal worth? It is particularly frustrating on a religious level to witness a society which seems to have a binary work/learning value system which is thought to be all encompassing. Things forever determine your value. I would argue that this extends to attitudes towards Torah learning as well. If you appear to learn more you are better. We love to categorise. We love black and white. We love things to be tangible and simple.  

This gets me back to my previous comments on education. My frustration is that this attitude imposes itself on individuals who feel cowed into seeing it as inevitable. They live within the imposed paradigms of society with sullen acceptance but their spirits are crushed and stifled. I want to carry on my subsequent rantings on education in this vein. I remember speaking to a student last year who was passionate about baking and cookery, for example, which his school seemed to think was tantamount to delinquency. Education succeeds or fails in my opinion based on its ability to enthuse the spirit. In a culture which champions results and cash, the spirit, it seems, can only be enthused by breaking away from the drudgery of it all. A great shame, really.   

And though the rules of the road have been lodged,
it's only people's games that you got to dodge
and it's all right Ma, I can make it.