The Political-Correctness Gap is Closing

The German hardware store Hornbach thought it had a clever idea for an ad called “This is How Spring Smells”. You can watch it here; there’s no dialogue in it, so you don’t need to be German-powered:

I hope you didn’t find this advertisement amusing. The South Korean and Japanese embassies did not; they denounced it as “racist”. Dozens of complaints were filed with the German Advertising Council. Hornbach briefly tried to defend the ad on a special website, claiming that it merely illustrated the “longing for springtime” in a humorous manner. “To do this, we leverage the supposed taboo subject of “smell fetish” in a humorous way and put a twist on well-known gender clichés.” Eventually, though, it climbed down, removing the ad from television and movie theaters.

This little episode sheds light on a few characteristics of the German national character. First, the earthiness. Germany is still the land of breasts on prime-time and self-fellating gargoyles on ancient public buildings. The existence of Japanese vending machines which sell used underwear appears to be a myth. But even putting that aside, you would never see an ad using such a tangy, moist conceit on American television. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

This episode also shows that the political-correctness gap between Germany and the “Anglo-Saxonsphere” is closing. It’s been interesting to watch this phenomenon in action. Many Germans consider the Anglo-Saxon model of political correctness censorious and prudish. Most of these Germans are on the right, but not all: A German travel writer (g) with thoroughly wholesome political views (as far as I know) recently took to the pages of Die Zeit to complain that political correctness was hampering her ability to write interesting stories — for example, she had to remove a description of a cockfight from a story about life in a Colombian village because editors feared it would unleash a “shitstorm” of controversy which would eclipse the rest of the article.

It’s not an exaggeration to say that part of the self-definition of what it means to be German — a small part, of course — is to resist political correctness. If you ask Germans what distinguishes them from the English or especially the Americans, one argument will inevitably be that Germans are more ready to recognize that life can be gritty, hopeless, brutal, and filthy. That people have complex motivations, and even underdogs can be flawed. That airbrushing reality leads to shallow and hypocritical thinking. That problems need to be faced head-on and pointed critique is no sin. And that jokes can be as funny as they are tasteless or insulting.

But the politically-correct insurgency has seized most of the highlands and villages, and launches increasingly frequent raids into the capital city. They haven’t seized power quite yet, but they can’t be dislodged — especially since the number of ethnic minorities in Germany, the natural infantry of the army of correctness, steadily grows.

As for me, I’m watching from the sidelines. I like to think I don’t have a dog in this fight. Not that I would ever attend a dogfight.

Do We Still Need Arte? Or License Fees?

Holger Kreitling in Die Welt has an amusing article (g) on Arte, the joint French-German public television channel. Arte is conceived as highbrow television, broadcasting classical concerts, operas, political debates, and documentaries on everything from Claude Sautet to Heidegger to the Thirty Years' war to Bolivian street artists to (as Kreitling puts it) obscure Slovenian bread-making techniques. It is financed by compulsory TV fees (administered by a company called the GEZ in German), yet never attracts more than a tiny fraction of highbrow viewers. As Kreitling notes, a member of the German or French urban haute bourgeoisie is required to announce his social position by declaring either that he has no television, or if he does, that all he watches is Arte. But even for all its failings and occasional pretentiousness, Kreitling still likes it.

And so do I. The only problem is the political programming, which is tiresomely left-wing. There's nothing more superfluous than holding a "theme evening" on Trump's first 100 days on Arte. Every person watching Arte already despises Trump, so all of the Trump-critical documentaries and interviews will have no effect. That's true of all the debate and political programming as well. I am not happy to pay mandatory licensing fees to sponsor the same old debates by the same aging hippies about "the future of ecological Europe" or what have you ("Red Danny" seems to be on every second time I switch to Arte), but I think there's a good case to be made for challenging music and arts programming. I don't have kids but I'm happy to pay taxes for schools because that's part of a healthy and thriving society. People who find classical music and museums boring should still pay taxes to keep them going for the same reason.

But the money should come from general taxes, not the outdated TV licensing fees that so many countries, including Germany, still use as a funding model. There is already a growing revolt against these fees (currently € 17.50 a month), which even includes prison martyrs (g) — people who refuse to pay the fees on principle and who are eventually sent to jail to serve time as a result. Technically, you don't have to pay the fee if you don't own a TV or radio or any comparable device, but the regulations on this point are baffling to most mortals.

There is endless online debate (g) about how far the government can go to determine whether you are receiving any form of broadcast programming which would trigger the fees. If Agents of GEZ™ knock at your door, which they are wont to do, do you have to let them in? The GEZ itself is a massive and expensive government bureaucracy as are all the myriad public television stations which it finances. This is the point where GEZ-defenders will step in and say "but it's not technically a government agency!" They're right, the GEZ is more of a Quango, but nobody really cares about this distinction. The bottom line is if they determine you have to pay the fees, and they don't, they will sic a team of lawyers on you, and you might well end up in prison.

All this money and bureaucracy might be OK if you got a BBC from it, but Germans definitely don't. The quality of the public television programming in Germany is the target of near-universal scorn. Everyone hates something about public TV: The urban haute bourgeoisie hates the folk-music and Schlager festivals and the exploitative shows made to compete with private-TV soap operas and scandal-fests. Conservatives hate what they see as the stifling one-sided political correctness of news coverage and talk shows. Everyone (including me) considers the vast bulk of German TV drama or comedy shows unwatchable.

It should come as no surprise 70% of Germans oppose the TV license fees (g). Seventy percent. That's a pretty high number in a democracy. Granted, when entrenched bureaucratic and governmental interests favor a policy — and they most certain favor a continuation of fee-based public TV — that policy can go on forever in Germany. Just think of the Euro, which was introduced over the opposition of 3/4 of the German population. Currently only the right-wing AfD party has staked out a clear position (g) in favor of abolishing the TV fee. Once again, the German "opinion cartel" funnels voters to the right wing: If you are one of the 70 percent of Germans who opposes the TV fee, the AfD is the only party which openly shares your view.

Fee TV is a zombie policy. You can either wait until it falls apart, or you can drive a stake through it now. Knowing Germany, they'll probably opt for the former. It'll be a pretty ugly process.

‘Rostock is a Beautiful City’

A brief slice of an educational English-learning TV show from the former East Germany. Unfortunately, it cuts off just before the good part, in which Muttonchop drops some Sweet Slabs of Socialist Science™ on the English reporter: 

Eurhythmics from the East

For those of you who don't speak German, this curious gem of a video from the International Socialist Peace and Freedom Conference of 1974 (held in Rio de Janeiro) shows the East German women's rhythmic gymnastics team introducing their new outfits for the 1976 Summer Olympics in Montreal.

All 22 ladies show off the daring new 'Progess and Equality' themed uniforms, half black and half multicolored, which were the first in East German history not designed by Margot Honecker, wife of East German Premier Erich Honecker and Minister of Education.

The voice-over commentary is by Erich Mielke, Director of the East German Ministry for State Security (Stasi). Having the secretive super-spy appear on mainstream television programming was part of the short-lived 'Protecting You, Protecting the State, Protecting the Future' program, which was designed to improve the reputation of East German spy agencies. Mielke was removed from the spotlight after he made comments about the apparent facial hair growth of some of the gymnasts, which is just visible from certain angles in this video.

Begin Japanology with Peter Barakan

I went to Japan last Christmas and loved it. Everywhere is clean, the people are courteous, street life is lively and safe, free public restrooms everywhere, spectacular shrines temples and gardens, handmade things made of natural materials. The entire country seems to be curated by people with discreetly minimalist good taste mixed with a bit of wabi-sabi aesthetic. I just scratched the surface, but it's quite a surface. 

While surfing around for things Japanese, I came across the oddly-named TV series Begin Japanology, produced by Japan's national television channel. The understated host, longtime Japan resident and fluent English speaker Peter Barakan (apparently he's half Burmese and half English) presents half-hour shows dedicated to everything from Kyudo to festivals to incense to fireworks to shopping streets to sake to masks to swords to folding fans to Western Japanophiles to pickles, plums, sushi, and calligraphy. Here's one on incense, which, it turns out, has its own highly formalized ceremony: 

By now there seem to be hundreds of episodes — a long but not exhaustive Youtube playlist is here.  The production values are reasonably high, without being ostentatious. There's often a slight twist: the episode on kendo features an in-depth profile of a young kendo master with one arm who routinely beats two-armed opponents without being given any advantages. Barakan profiles many fascinating Japanese, from retired managers who carve masks in their spare time to famous tea masters, actors, puppeteers and architects. Barakan, a congenial, low-key host, also has a weakness for ordinary Japanese who are trying to maintain some of the many traditions which teeter on the verge of extinction. As with many Japanese shows, there's a lot of pleasantly burbling background music, some of it a bit incongruous.

The shows focus on traditional, non-controversial topics, so I don't think we're going to see a episode on soaplands anytime soon. But within their limited scope, these shows are well-done, with thoughtful scripts, interesting subject choices, and a few modest surprises here and there. Highly recommended.

The Generic Television Show Plot

A man analyzed the plots of thousands of television series using complex statistical analysis and came up with the following description of a generic television show episode:

Just for fun, let's put that into a single narrative: the typical script starts among a group of wise-cracking teenagers at the school, making plans for the day to come and the weekend. At the office, however, a dead body is discovered. The wisecracking ceases, and instead the befuddled victims try to describe more accurately how the murder happened, to apologize for their mistakes, and to inspire each other not to give in to defeat but to fight for victory. A heartfelt plea to the Almighty for help lies over their testimony at the trial; and they carefully move into the future, apologizing once again and reflecting on the new truths they have learned.

Eerily disjointed.