The Age Of Entitlement

There has been much criticism this week of the dyslexic student at Plymouth’s Peninsula Medical School who’s sueing to have multiple choice exams removed from the curriculum in a teaching system which already allows extra support.

The BMA calls this learning disability ‘the gift of dyslexia’ and sees no reason why dyslexics should not qualify as doctors.

Speaking as a patient my view on dyslexic doctors is simple, clear and unequivocal – if it comes down a clash between the right of someone with a learning disability to follow their dream, and my right not to be killed as a result of their doing so, then I say sorry, choose another profession.

That is neither nice nor nasty, but simple self-preservation.

We are all different I have a degree of dyspraxia – I’m a bit clumsy – and synaesthesia, and I have depth perception problems. But my IQ (if you accept the validity of IQ in the first place) once tested in the top 3% of the nation.

I *choose* not to drive a car, although this causes me social problems and narrows my career choices, because I know I’d be a potential danger to the public. Similarly I decided not to be an engineer – not because I’m too thick, but because I have no aptitude for numbers. I might even be diagnosed as dysnumerate, were my middle class parents seeking to game the system in my favour. Certainly any railway, bridge or large building designed by me would be a danger to the public.

So too a person who has difficulty reading, writing and spelling (for whatever reason) has no aptitude to become a doctor and is a fool to think they do. A large component of the practice of medicine consists of clear and accurate observation, record keeping and prescription. There are minor spelling differences between hypo and hyper, for instance, yet the difference in meaning is vast and immediately life-threatening.

“0.1mg or 01mcg? Ooooh, not sure, let me squint a little…”

Doesn’t work, does it.

But the primary reason why this student is unqualified to be a doctor is not her dyslexia; it’s that she’s putting her own career ahead of her future patients’ interests. That’s not someone I’d want to treat me or anyone close to me.

If you’re bright enough to be interested in medicine as a career then you surely should also be bright enough to see the danger you might pose to a patient. How does the Hippocratic oath go? “First do no harm”? I can’t see how this student could take any such oath in good conscience. Or maybe she doesn’t have a good conscience; maybe she sees notions like ‘care for the patient first’ as boring old shibboleths which cannot be allowed to interfere with her own personal life choices.

This student and those supporting her are incredibly selfish – but then again, what can we expect from the flower of 3 generations of entitlement culture?

Just by way of hyperbolic illustration, here’s where making allowances gets you:

Doctor barred by state helps in U.S. executions

By Henry Weinstein
November 15, 2007 in print edition A-17

Note This article includes corrections to the original version.

A doctor who was barred from taking part in executions in Missouri because of concerns his dyslexia would interfere with his ability to administer lethal injections is helping the federal government carry out death sentences in Indiana, according to court documents.

The physician has been the target of more than 20 malpractice suits, was barred from practicing at two hospitals and was publicly reprimanded by a state agency for failing to disclose those suits to a hospital where he treated patients, according to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. The newspaper identified the doctor as Alan R. Doerhoff of Jefferson City, Mo.

Last year, U.S. District Judge Fernando J. Gaitan Jr. of Kansas City, Mo., banned Doerhoff from participating “in any manner, at any level” in lethal injections in Missouri.

The judge said earlier he was “gravely concerned” that the doctor responsible for “mixing the drugs which will be responsible for humanely ending the life of condemned inmates, has a condition [dyslexia] which causes him confusion with regard to numbers.”

Federal officials, however, have made Doerhoff part of the execution team at the federal prison in Terre Haute, Ind., according to court papers filed on behalf of several inmates there. All condemned federal prisoners are executed at that prison.

Among those executed there was Oklahoma City bomber Timothy J. McVeigh.

Ah well, if this student wins her case and goes on to qualify, I’m sure Jack Straw can find her a similar place at one of his Titan prisons.

“For now you can still buy a Beemer with your dignity intact. The question is, should you?” *

A used beemer, that is.

Why so? Thanks to Egalia at Tenessee Guerilla Women for drawing my attention to this sick little ad campaign for BMW:

As it’s described in Salon:

Broadsheet: [A] beautiful young woman — presumably naked and lying in bed — wearing a come-hither look and a crown of blond curls. In small print scrawled across her bare shoulder, it reads: “You know you’re not the first.” As your eyes drift to the bottom of the advertisement — and the top of her chest — you learn that it’s an advertisement for BMW’s premium selection of used cars. Used cars, used women — get it?! And, finally, there’s BMW’s slogan in the bottom right-hand corner, which takes on a whole new meaning: “Sheer Driving Pleasure.”

I’d also add – how old is that girl? 13? 14? She could be 18; but even so the aim is to make her look pubescent, yet still available.

The air of innocence suggests virginal chastity, yet the pose of passive abandon says ‘here, take me’. The makeup is deliberately designed to accentuate the dewy skin, pouting mouth and cherubic curls of extreme youth; yet the direct gaze gives an implicit promise of sexuality. It’s all very carefully done and just to make sure you get the message, it’s made explicit in the slogan. “You know you’re not the first”. Oh well, that’s all right then. Lech away at the child.

No doubt BMW’s marketing droids are aiming for a discrete demographic – and from the message sent by this ad, I’d say that’s the repressed-paedophile-with-aspirational-tendencies-in-a-boring-job-that-doesn’t-pay quite enough-for-a-posh-car market segment. I bet the research people found their target audience goes on holiday in Costa Rica or Thailand as well; but what I’d find even more interesting is the range of media this ad’s been placed in. That would tell us even more about whether BMW sees their customers as potential paedophiles or not. But on the content of that ad alone, I think that were I a second-hand beemer driver, I’d be just a tad insulted.

[First spotted by Copyranter.]

* Jeremy Clarkson, The Sunday Times

Kindergarten Critics

Star Wars IV, as related by a 3 year old:

“..and never, ever talk back to Darth Vader…” That little girl has a golden Hollywood future pitching action movie screenplays.

But putting on my Mum hat, I have to wonder whether any Star Wars movie, even (or maybe especially) the one featuring that creepily servile Jar Jar creature, is really suitable for 3 year olds no matter how precocious they are.

Rafael Behr, Whiny-Ass Titty Baby

Rafael Behr is yet another well-connected writer for the Guardian. He has a regular writing gig there, having previously been online editor, and also writes a personal typepad blog.

His employer, The Guardian, is having a spot of bother right now related to the nepotism around Max Gogarty’s travel blog (see below). and Rafael decided to insert himself, whether prompted or unprompted I don’t know, into the furore by attacking commenters to the orginal blogpost as a baying mob, as bad as or worse than during the Chinese Cultural Revolution.

Yes, really, and yes, he’s a professional, paid writer.

But he also admits to trolling Guardian commenters with his personal post defending Gogarty: but he now says didn’t really mean it, that it was just a convenient topic to hang a saleable article on – how cynical is that – then he goes on to apologise for offending anyone . And shuts down comments.

Whiny ass titty baby.

This is the comment I would have posted at his blog had Rafo, as he apparently likes to be known, not been such a whiny-ass titty baby as to be too scared to take feedback.

Dear Rafael: what you seem to be saying is that you deliberately jumped into an inflamed situation to pour fuel on the flames – not because you were at all engaged with the discussion, but because you wanted to make a point and cleverly earn a fee while doing it.

I’ve read every one of the nearing a thousand CIF comments and they’re not at all as you describe; I’ve seen a lot of hilariously witty bitchery but very little actual abuse, certainly nothing to compare with what any other young Harry or Josh might hear from their mates in the pub.

Your CIF post was a deliberate misrepresentation of what was being said (something you aknowledge in this post) and made matters worse.

Now I’ve only been blogging and commenting five years or so; I’m not a real writer, unlike you or young Max, but where I come from that’s called trolling and it’s very bad manners, doubly so from someone who professes to love him some blogging.

What was actually being discussed boils down to:

  • The shoddy and nepotistic hiring practices of a self-described ethical and fair newspaper and its staff’s overcosy relationship with PR agents.
  • The overall decline of the quality of the papers’ opinion pieces and blogs and CIF writing generally, which is seemingly now narrowcast to a well-off coterie of metropolitans who happen to know someone who knows someone.
  • The utter hypocrisy of providing an online comment facility and then squealing like an outraged maiden aunt when people actually comment.
  • The stupidity of compounding all the above errors by attacking readers in the paper and on television.

What I think you and the current editorial staff and writers at the Guardian/Observer (they’re pretty much the same in the public eye; the Observer is the Sunday edition of The Guardian) fail to get is the visceral connection some readers have with the paper, or the sense of betrayal we feel at the blatant exposure of its inner workings.

We love The Guardian – or rather we did. It was our parents’ and grandparents’ newspaper; it stood for truth and social justice and all that is now quaint and outmoded. At least that’s what we were told then, although mature reflection and a little reading shows that was never entirely true. Still, it was a a noble aim even if it fell woefully short of its target at times.

But now? Now the Scott Trust and it’s editorial staff aren’t even trying. Truth, liberty and social justice may be still occasionally be paid lip service to in its columns, but they’re certainly not in it’s practice.

Both papers have degenerated in my lifetime into little more than self-referential lifestyle mags, padded with puff pieces penned by PR agents or trite text extolling the joys of the latest lifestyle fad or fashionable paranoia or designer bag, lifted straight from a press release and all of it gilded with lucury brand ads and a few pensees from the friends and family of London’s politicoliterati. (I exaggerate for effect, but not by much.)

But hey, it’s a globalised, media-savvy world and everyone understands how journalism actually works, nod nod, wink wink. We all get it, don’t we?

Well actually, no we don’t and we’re sick of it.

It appears to me to be this blithe acceptance of New Labour’s relaxed attitude to wealth, privilege and the status quo that has rankled so many; that and both papers’ continued promotion of well-off, well-connected nobodies who aspire to tell us feckless, idle proles what to think, as though being born bourgeois is the new divine right of kings.

This in a week which has not only seen several political nepotism scandals but also the publication of Nick Davies’ expose of the inherent corruption of British journalism.

Readers were already angry at the media: dear, sweet, young, disingenuous Max’ execrable blogpost was merely the spark to some bone-dry tinder.

Because the Guardian and Observer have been the only online newspapers in which some of us jaded cynics have retained a modicum of trust (despite Aaronovitch’s war-cheerleading, Polly Toynbee’s nosepeg and Jackie Ashley’s increasingly painful moral contortions in support of Labour) we’ve even stayed loyal when Labour ministers have been given column inches to publish ghostwritten lies and egregious spin.

But try complaining about the poor quality and shoddy commissioning of a trivial travel article – for this we stupidly loyal readers are accused of being a baying mob of jealous wannabes. Silly us for thinking a comment facility meant that some honest feedback was wanted or needed : as with New Labour government, comment and consulation is for show only. The Guardian/Observer, being as it is effectively an adjunct to and labour exchange for the government, has become in the last decade as thoroughly corrupted as every other British institution.

Max’ original blog is almost irrelevant now, except as a the spark that ignited a small blaze of public comment: though I suppose it has also had the useful side-effect of labelling skinny jeans as irredeemably naff, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.

A couple of years ago The Washington Post had its own issues with commenters pointing out its hypocrisy and the readers editor, Deborah Howell, handled it about as badly as it could possibly be handled, thus damaging the paper’s remaining reputation still further.

The Guardian seems to have learned nothing from that: perhaps it could use Howell at the next awayday as a case study of what not to do? Similarly they could also use your CIF post as a warning –

  • Don’t treat your CIF readers like idiots, because they’re mostly not.
  • Don’t troll in one forum and then admit it on your own personal blog – it just makes you look like a hypocrite.

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