Love of the Arts

Where is the love of literature? In 'Down and Out in Paris and
London', Orwell mentions a cook with whom he worked with in a filthy
restaurant, who sing and talks of Tolstoy whilst she works. Catch
anyone exposing that in the workplace now! Can you imagine a factory
worker in Manchester leading a discourse on the merits of Somerset
Maugham, or pointing out the finer moments of Marquez?

So what has happened to the love of learning? Where is the desire and
thirst for knowledge? Of course, within some the flame still burns
brightly, but on the whole we face an endemic apathy, perhaps even
hatred, towards the arts. Mention the ballet and one is instantly
reminded of one's snobbishness, express a preference for Beethoven over
Bach and one is told to stop being so pretentious. Last week a school
in the council estate in Guildford was attacked by young arsonists, and
crowds of teenagers stood outside watching the flames and shouting
'Burn school burn!'. Their hatred went to the extent of switching off
the water supply to the firemen who were inside - a remarkably stupid
act that merely goes to show their abhorrence of Britain's educational
system.

Of course, the blame relies not solely upon the inadequacies of
Britain's institutions. While they do not encourage adoration of
Shakespeare (sit through 'The Merchant of Venice' for a year and see
whether you still enjoy the play) or worship of Tchaikovsky, they do
not discourage it either. The fault, as usual, lies in society. This is
a time when equality is preached above all else, when we can see our
fellow man as just that - fellow. It then follows that to be interested
in the 'higher' aspects of life, one is consciously elevating oneself
to a level above that of one's peers, and in doing so are rejecting
their enjoyments. Subconsciously perhaps they are aware that
'Neighbours' is perhaps not quite so worthwhile as Orwell, but dare
suggest such a thing and one is descended upon and called a snob. To be
snubbed thus is, for obvious reasons, aggravating at best, and as a
social creature man desires to be accepted; hence the stigma attached
to following intellectual pursuits.