This is in a book originally published in 1953.
This got me thinking. Schoolyard bullies go way back. Schoolyard bullies that run screaming to Mommy or Daddy or teacher if someone stands up to them go just as far back, as far as I know. But off the top of my head it seems that this reference is as far back as I can recall for thwarted thugs using the tactic of yelling, "It isn't fair."
Before that, wasn't it always something like "You'll be sorry!" or "My dad's bigger than your dad!" or "Your mother's cheap/ugly/wears army boots" or "I hate you" or "You just wait 'til you're not looking" or just plain blubbering because he or she felt sorry for his poor little cruel and cossetted self? Or something like that?
This is somewhat an idle question, but not entirely. Considering how the "It isn't fair" people have created whole industries and government departments and cooperative judges to whom they can run when they feel that someone isn't kowtowing to them properly, I admit to wondering when this attitude crept into the open air in Western culture. And why. But of course why is likely to be harder to answer than when.
So... I have a reference from 1953, one that suggests that elitist secularists, at least, were already prone to that sort of thing, enough so that Lewis apparently thought it deserved a poke in the eye in passing. Or, at minimum, that if he did poke them in the eye most people would get the joke or at least recognize the type.
So where did the real-life folks getting jabbed in that sentence get the idea that they're supposed to always have their own way - and if they don't it's because someone else isn't being fair?
When did they, on top of that, get the idea that appealing to someone in authority might find them a sympathetic ear? Not to mention action?
(In the old days, from what I've read, bullies who whimpered were more generally told that it was time they grew up. Or that they'd have to fight their own fights. Certainly they didn't get much encouragement from most people in positions of authority. Did they?)
I have my hunches, but I'm operating on too few facts here even for an honest hunch.
I'd appreciate your help gathering references. More recent ones are fine (they might help establish a pattern), but bragging rights go to the earliest book reference in which either a bad guy earnestly - or a good guy facetiously or satirically - says a variation on "It isn't fair." I'd prefer examples with the emphasis. We're looking for the birth of the whiny worldview here.
Nonfiction references also accepted.
Side note: I read The Silver Chair in:
The Chronicles of Narnia One Volume
The Silver Chair is also available in stand-alone; in paperback, hardback and audio. For instance:
The Silver Chair
Update: I've found a 1952 example. In the murder mystery Rose's Last Summer by Canadian author Margaret Millar, a self-centered, browbeaten, wimpy, worried and worrisome mother's boy of a man who had a body found in his garden (and has been acting suspiciously ever since) is conversing with a police officer heading the investigation (emphasis in original):
"The poor woman who died - my wife and I were discussing it last night - I hope she'll have a proper burial with flowers and all that?"
"I don't guarantee the flowers, but she'll be buried according to regulation. The county will foot the bill if no one else does."
"It seems so cold-blooded, having no flowers."
"Rose won't know the difference."
Willett turned quite pale. "I wonder - my wife and I were wondering - we feel a certain sense of responsibility in this affair. We're not wealthy by any means, but we're comfortably well off and I thought - Ethel thought - perhaps a check for a hundred dollars--?"
"You're offering to bury Rose?"
"I - yes, you might put it like that. Ethel's very soft-hearted, you know."
Greer didn't know. "You'll have to take the matter up with the County Administrator."
Willett had no idea what or who the County Administrator was, but he nodded wisely. "I see. There's red tape involved. You think it might be better to forget the whole thing? I mean, I certainly wouldn't want my generous impulses to get me into trouble. It wouldn't be fair."
"There are lots of worthy causes to give money to," Greer said shortly. "Flowers are fine, but Rose can't smell them."
Willett took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. He hated this callous policeman with such intensity that he felt nauseated. "I - if you'll excuse me - I'm not well."
"Sorry to hear it."
"We - we're not a strong family. Things upset us."
Greer believed it. "I just want to talk to your mother for a few minutes. I'll try not to disturb her."
Willett felt too weak and sick to argue. "Murphy will take you upstairs," he said and headed for the door, pressing the handkerchief against his mouth.
In local lingo, I'd say Millar had Willett's number (and by extension the number for everyone like him).
Rose's Last Summer
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