Open Writing

Stepping out of the shower the other day, I was struck by the alarming thought, "Oh gosh! I'm a snob!" I had been reflecting on the way some of our politicians lied, cheated and fired whistle-blowers, just to hang on to their lucrative jobs and fancy cars, and how it indicated an inability on their part to delay gratification.

Then I backtracked and asked myself, "A snob? What is that? Where does the word come from anyway?" It seemed that, if I was going to judge myself for something, I had better know what the crime was.

A snob, according to what I was taught growing up, is somebody who thinks too highly of themselves. A man who suddenly starts mixing with a different crowd because he has been appointed headmaster of a school is a snob. A woman who is fortunate to have a friend with seasonal tickets to the theatre and feels special because she is up-to-date with showbiz news is a snob. Snobbishness is unmerited superiority, an attitude of, "I'm better than you".

Oh dear, I thought. That's not good. I don't like snobs. The last thing I want to be is a snob. So what can I do about it?

The obvious thing would be to admit my guilt and change my ways. Isn't that what repentance is all about? Snobbishness relates to pride, pride to arrogance, and arrogance to self-centredness. Horrider and horrider! I was a self-centred sinner deserving of damnation!

But no, I told myself as I towelled myself off. I'm not all that bad. Besides, if I condemn myself, I'll be in torment, full of remorse and unable to show my face in public. Guilt over my attitude towards corrupt politicians wasn't a viable response. I'd have to opt for something else.

So I considered the opposite response. I could congratulate myself for being in a position to recognise corruption … but that was even worse. That really was snobbishness, because now I was taking the moral high ground and drawing a line between us and them. So what other options were there?

I let my thoughts chug through the stations of my mind. I could take the view that we are all struggling to overcome greed, and while I worked hard at it, others were a little less diligent. Perhaps they didn't have the time, or the good health, or the support that I had … but that attitude was no better than the last. It smacked of false humility. Tolerating bad behaviour on the grounds that a person is disadvantaged is worse snobbery than not tolerating it at all. It's plain patronising!

I could block my awareness against politicians who abused their power. That would remove any danger of being a snob. I could simply concentrate on doing my best, leaving everyone else to suffer whatever consequences came their way. That would be fairer, wouldn't it? But no … even then, I was at risk of being called a snob. Others could say I'd ceased to care … that I was too caught up in my own pursuit of righteousness to worry about those who were lost.

So what to do? By this time, I was dry and pulling on my clothes in a state of near frenzy. I couldn't get away from this nasty accusation. I dragged a comb through my hair and slapped on face cream, wondering how I was ever going to face the day. Me, a snob? I couldn't bear it!

My thoughts chugged to the top of the hill and crested it. Well, too bad. If I was really a snob, I may as well flaunt the fact. I'd tell the world. Like the poem someone had once read to me, I'd wear purple and express my views brazenly. I'd be loud and proud, and too bad what anyone thought of me. I'd be the most outrageous snob I could be, because that's what I was and there was nothing I could do about it. I'd tried everything. Nothing had solved the problem. The rest of the world would just have to live with it.

So that's what I did. Freewheeling ecstatically, I walked out with my head held high. I told my friend over coffee that I was disgusted with our politicians. I admitted to being shameless in my snobbishness, but I couldn't undo the years of education which I'd had, and nor did I want to. If people found my attitude distasteful, perhaps they should examine the reasons for that distaste. I'd found snobbishness distasteful because I was a snob. So there!

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