By Hal G.P. Colebatch on 8.3.06 @ 12:07AM
G.K. Chesterton's prophetic and forgotten look at a British establishment enthralled by Islamicism.
When I was a child going through my late father's library my
maternal grandfather pointed out an old copy of G.K. Chesterton's
The Flying Inn, published in 1914, and
said: "That's a good story!" I wish now that Grandfather had lived
long enough for me to talk to him about many things. I am not sure
why he, Mayor, Member of Parliament, Knight, and general pillar of
the community, with no sign I could detect of even my father's
bohemian streak, thought this tale of rum-disbursing rapscallions
in flight from the law was a good story, but I took him at his word
and when I read it found he was right. It is also curiously
prophetic.
It was condemned to many years of neglect, presumably because of
what was then seen as the quaintness and irrelevance of its subject
matter -- an Islamic attack on and infiltration of England. It has,
however, recently been reissued in the U.S. by Dover publications.
It is, as one of its excellences, a swinging hit at political
correctness, penned a couple of generations before the term
political correctness was dreamed up. The British politician, Lord
Ivywood, by a piece of legal trickery, bans the drinking of alcohol
in England. That is, alcohol is not banned outright, but can only
be sold by an inn displaying a sign, and the signs are banned.
The good people, like irresponsible vagabonds, travel the
country just ahead of the law, first with a donkey and then a motor
car, with a keg of rum and a cheese, as well as an inn-sign rescued
from the destroyed inn "The Old Ship," dispersing cheer to the
workmen who have been denied a drink, singing merry songs on the
way (naturally most of the establishment figures who support
prohibition still manage to evade it for themselves in other
ways).
But there is more sinister parallel development. Targeting the
traditional English pub is only part of the politically correct
targeting of all English institutions, traditions and identity,
enforced by a British establishment enthralled by Islamicism. We
also hear little asides about the cross being gradually banned, or
rather, replaced by a combined cross-and-crescent symbol ("The
Crescent, the growing thing...the religion of progress"). Smart art
circles adopt Islamicist art. Then there are growing hints of
political preparations for polygamy, the institution of the harem
and the suppression of women.
Anticipating what would be one of the characteristics of 20th
century totalitarianism and 21st century relativism, history is
rewritten to show that England was originally an Islamic country.
The old pub name "The Saracen's Head," probably dating from some
memory of the Crusades, is, so the people are told, really a
corruption of "The Saracen Is Ahead." "The Green Man" (another
traditional English pub name which is in fact probably a fossil
reference to very ancient fertility beliefs) was actually,
according to the new revisionists, a corruption of "The Agreeing
Dragoman."
One might think this pseudo-history a flight of fantasy too far.
But in 2004 the Mufti of Australia and New Zealand, Taj Al-Din
Hamad Abdallah Al-Hilali, who has described the holocaust as a
Zionist lie, also claimed that Australia was originally Islamic
land, settled by Afghans. The Australian Aborigines were their
descendants. (In fact Aborigines reached Australia several tens of
thousands of years ago. Some so-called "Afghans" -- actually mostly
Iranians - arrived in the 19th century to work as camel-drivers in
the outback.)
This real-world Mufti claimed as evidence of the Aborigines'
Muslim origins the facts that they "have customs such as
circumcision, marriage ceremonies, respect for tribal elders, and
burial of the dead -- all customs that show that they were
connected to ancient Islamic culture before the Europeans set foot
it Australia." This real-world rubbish actually surpasses the
tortured rationalizations and historical revisionisms of the
fictional Islamicists in The Flying Inn. Apparently no one
told the Mufti that circumcision (actually many Aborigines
practiced subincision, a very different thing) far predates Islam
and is characteristically Jewish, and marriage ceremonies, respect
for elders, and burial of the dead are features of practically
every society.
The same claim has been advanced by some modern Islamic writers
for America, including statements that Columbus found mosques
there. (The point here is that Islamic law states Muslims possess
by right any land that once formed part of the House of Islam. This
is a key element in Islamic claims against the existence of
Israel.)
As The Flying Inn goes on it gradually becomes apparent
that Ivywood is working towards destroying the entire Christian and
Western identity of England. As Catholic priest Addison H. Hart
pointed out in a recent essay, while Ivywood is using Islamicism as
a tool, he is also a creature of pseudo-Nietzscheanism. "I see the
breaking of barriers," he says. "Beyond that I see nothing." They
are words that could be straight from modern deconstructionism and
they encapsulate its ultimately Hellish nature. Ivywood is,
ultimately, the voice of Antichrist. His associates and tools, his
"false prophets," are a strange little Turk, Misysra Ammon, and a
miserable crawling journalist, Hibbs However.
Against Ivywood is an at first tiny resistance movement: a
giant, red-haired, hard-drinking Irishman named Patrick Dalroy, a
thoroughly English pub-owner named Humphrey Pump, dispossessed
landlord of "The Old Ship," who loves Pickwick and has the history
of the country in his bones, and Lord Ivywood's poet cousin, an
aesthete who is, as a later generation would put it, mugged by
reality. After many adventures the story concludes with England
roused, a decisive battle against the Islamicist Army which Lord
Ivywood has been secretly shipping in, and Dalroy getting the girl.
Like Nietzsche, Lord Ivywood goes mad, babbling of the Superman in
an asylum.
As with other books by Chesterton, when I first read it I was
puzzled but liked it. Perhaps part of what appealed to me was its
obviously fantastical nature. When Chesterton wrote it, on the eve
of the First World War, the great perceived threat to England and
to the "Western and Christian heritage" was not Islamicism, which
had been out of such questions for centuries, but German
militarism. When I read it, the Cold War had been on for all my
life, and showed no signs of ending -- or at least not of ending in
victory. The Flying Inn had nothing to do with such
"present discontents." But it is in my mind yet, when those other
things are gone.
topics:
Religion, Islam, Books, Law, Iran, Israel