The quintessentially British supplication “God save the Queen” never ceases to irritate me. I can think of no reason why intelligent and modern students at Oxford — once the seat of logical positivism — laud some old woman whose only claim to fame is the superstitious beliefs of preindustrial society. I have three points of contention with this sentence: first, the entity “God,” whose status is always being debated; second, the entity “the Queen,” who people once believed was chosen by the previous debated deity to lead crass mortals and, in the process, own all the villages and cows in the land. Finally, there’s the archaic English subjunctive, which is a type of tense indicating a wish or a desire — a situation that doesn’t yet and may never exist. Because of this, I think this sentence is thrice removed from reality. I don’t believe in gods or queens, and I really don’t think any gods are going to be saving any queens anytime soon.
But there are people who believe in ridiculous things. Some people believe that unicorns exist. I have what I think is a reasonable argument against this sort of thing, though it doesn’t always work. I say the burden of proof is on you. If you say that unicorns exist, then show me a unicorn. My crazy friend who was once institutionalized at a facility for recovering glue sniffers would retort: I know there are unicorns because every time I make spaghetti they appear to me in a rainbow. In the spirit of liberalism we agree to disagree, though I never take him up on dinner party offers. I don’t think my friend has a case for unicorns, really, but there’s nothing I can say to dissuade him, so whatever floats his boat, et cetera. Which is perfectly fine by me. Yet it irks me when bad arguments affect my life. I must admit that I enjoy eating steaks. Apparently, though, cows have an astral link with unicorns (like their historical one with queens), so my friend really gets on my case about eating steaks. I tell him: “Well then, you eat your veggie burger, and I’ll eat my steak. Or at least give me a reason I would find acceptable and I’ll stop.” What’s really alarming, though, is that there is actually a society of unicorn-loving people out there. They think that my steak-eating ways are immoral.
“Steak is bad for you anyway,” they argue pragmatically. “Science has shown that people who eat steaks have more heart attacks.”
“That doesn’t mean that steak-eaters are intrinsically immoral, nor that they should be treated differently,” I reply angrily. “Science has shown that people who have to put up with aggravating and patronizing people have more heart attacks.”
“It’s only a small change,” they argue. “There’s nothing genetic about steak-eating desires. You can conform to the norm.”
“Whatev!” I shout. “I want to eat steak, and you haven’t properly shown me why steakeating is wrong.”
“Because of the unicorn, who is our deity,” they reply. “And studies have shown that most people believe in unicorns. Why are you so angry?”
“I am angry,” I reply, “because this affects my life. It does not affect yours.”
The unicorn lovers are right because people believe all sorts of ridiculous things. And public discourse and significance is what determines the moral status quo, isn’t it?
The months pass and the unicorn lovers have indeed overrun the world. Steak eating becomes a despicable activity, barely tolerated only because of historical accident. Steak-eaters are forbidden from having children because their unhealthy eating habits put children at risk of becoming obese and having health problems later in life. We’re offered the option of converting to veggie burgers, an option which is unpalatable to me. I dream of a world where such dichotomies do not matter.
In due time, we are driven underground. Posters of steak eating are ancient relics that have been wiped off the face of the earth, a time we refer to as pagan Greek joyousness. In a horrible ode to ancient religious rites we have been labeled “faggots” by society because they burn us on piles of wood these days, along with feminists, bras and Whitney Houston memorabilia.
This is where I admit that my column has been a thinly veiled and exaggerated allegory about gay people. Surprise! Well, maybe the unicorn will save the queens after all.
Johann Loh is a philosophy major from Singapore. He is studying abroad at Oxford this year and can be reached at loh@princeton.edu.
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