Six Degrees of Denomination

I've been following the story of Prince William's split from girlfriend of five years, Kate Middleton, and I'm quite shocked at the beating she and her family have taken in the British press. The press on this side of the pond are by no means known for their tact or positivity. In fact, it is almost the law here that when a celebrity or sports personality falls from grace, and this includes losing a match, they are to be hung out to dry and pounded from all sides, preferably in public with their hands in stocks and rotten tomatoes being hurled at their faces. The British press are as well known for scathing intolerance as Britney Spears is for not wearing underwear. I should say now that am an avid tabloid reader. I know, it's mindless, inconsequential, often completely false bullshit and there are real problems in the world that people like me should be concerned about (although I read about these too, so I don't feel entirely shallow), but what can I say, it fascinates me - I'm hooked. So I am well-schooled in the 21st century media's game of build them up and tear them down - and then, if you're a British newspaper, throw them to the dogs. But, seasoned addict such that I am, even I have been a little disgusted by the treatment of Kate and her family, particularly her mother.

The story, for those of you too good for such soul-destroying gossip, is this: Kate and William have recently split up after 5 years together, and the press, who have been hailing her as the new princess Di for the latter two of them, have now pounced on her "middle class" family as being the reason for the split. Apparently their darling Kate, whose fairytale relationship just months ago inspired Woolworths to design a full range of William and Kate memorabilia in view of the "pending" wedding, is now thought of as too common for the prince. It is said she never would have made it into the royal family anyway, largely due to her "air stewardess" mother. I say air hostess in inverted commas, because the way the press say it here, you'd think she scooped poop in a local park for a living. It is rarely mentioned that after her career travelling the skies, she turned her hand to business and became a self-made millionaire, but that is to be expected. Among Carole Middleton's oh so ghastly sins that had the royal courtiers practically going cross-eyed in their attempts at looking disdainfully down their noses are these gems: when first meeting the Queen, she said "pleased to meet you" instead of "how do you do" or "hello Ma'am"; chewing gum in public (I concur, this is a disgusting habit but hardly serious enough for vilification - perhaps she had bad breath on the day?); saying toilet (I was gobsmacked at this one - what the hell are you supposed to call it? Do people in the courts seriously go around saying water closet?) and pardon (as opposed to? What? like that's any better). It has brought out a weak debate in the papers over Britain's history of snobbery and whether or not one not born of blue blood, or at least the upper class, can ever be fit to marry into the monarchy. But mostly, it has dragged an innocent family's name through the mud, all in the name of breeding. Of course, the papers attribute all these concerns to "unnamed sources" within the courts, and take the view that they are merely reporting the news, but despite my familiarity with this kind of "it's the people's right to know" reporting (ie unchecked, often completely false informatives, usually of a sensational nature), I find myself bewildered by the reasoning behind this particular topic. Yes, it's news, but why is it so damned important? What is the big deal about who you were born to and where you live?

I suppose my bewilderment comes from the fact that in South Africa, we don't have classes. It's not the first time I have encountered snobbery here - just the other day I found out how important it is to people where in London you live. We live in South-East London, traditionally known as the poorer, rougher area of London where the unemployed and working class stay. Middle class people would usually not stay where we stay, I have recently discovered. One of my team is working on developing the complex in which we live, and when I told him I lived there, he was initially surprised, followed by a little - well, I suppose the only word I can use is disdainful. I felt my image tarnish slightly as he stood next to me. I am luckily exempt from any real scrutiny, as I am viewed as a backpacker (despite the fact that I have never backpacked in my life) - a foreigner who is here only temporarily to work and travel and is therefore not quite up to speed with British social standards. One the girls in my office was debating with some of the guys about where exactly she stays... apparently she is borderline between a posh and not so posh area, and insisted quite seriously that it is in fact the posh area that she comes from. They joked around for a while, but it quite clearly mattered a great deal to her that they believe she was not from the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak.

In writing and thinking about this spotlight on class and breeding in Britian, I've drawn a rather nasty parallel between South African apartheid and British snobbery. Not that I am saying that they're on the same level, by any means - at least the Brits don't use force and all manner of unspeakable acts to keep the lower classes away from the upper classes. But essentially, it boils down to the same thing - for whatever reason, some people feel they should not mix with certain other types of people because of their breeding. In Britain, they have class - in South Africa, we have colour. Neither makes any sense when looked at objectively, but the deep-seated beliefs and ideology that has people judging other people on skin colour or social status is obviously not logical - it's irrational and based on either fear, ignorance or both. I hope that I am a product of the new South Africa with the tolerance not generally afforded to our parents' and grandparents' generations. I also hope that I never develop new intolerances over time, such as judging someone for the area in which they live. In the meantime, I would just like to say, I live in Woolwich, South East London, and I'm stoked to be there!