Resist Categorization

I while ago, I got stuck in a healthcare retesting loop. These are quite common as you approach middle-age because doctors see you as old enough to have problems, but still strong enough to beat them if they're caught early. Consequently, you get the kind of diagnostic attention that younger people dream about, and you know that saying "be careful what you wish for?" You'd better be good with needles.

In my case, a blood test revealed a slightly elevated something (I'm not telling you what) that was still slightly elevated on repeat, and so on, until I found myself sitting with a doctor three months later. Happily, she gave me the all clear. Relieving, but I must confess not altogether reassuring — I'm a little on the Falstaff side of brave when it comes to my health, so an elevated something still felt like a thing to me.

I did what nervous people usually do and asked silly questions. Among them, and I'm slightly embarrassed to admit this, I asked if I had to stop drinking wine. She looked at me and replied, "Only if it's New World." Which was just, hand-on-heart, perfect. She'd read me like a book and cracked the precise joke that would put her worried patient at ease. A charming example of soft skill in a hard profession.

But, and I really hate to split hairs, the distinction between Old World and New World wine is nonsense — almost all wine is both. There are two reasons for this. The first is that American grapes taste like cat's pee, the second is that European vines die. There's a little bug called phylloxera that's native to the New World and eats grapevine roots. When the little critters were accidentally introduced to Europe in the 19th century, they devastated our non-resistant vines and brought France to tears.

Thus, what you see in European vineyards today are actually composite plants — a European vine above ground that's been grafted onto a phylloxera-resistant, American root-stock. That's the only way they'll survive. Somewhat ironically, you'll see the same thing in American vineyards — European vines on American roots — because that's the only way to make wine that doesn't taste like it came out the back end of a coyote.

All of this is a roundabout way of demonstrating that the way we categorize things is often pointless, confusing, and rubbish. Even more so in the way we categorize each other. I remember having a conversation with expectant parents, and we all started talking about the genetic mix of our overwhelmingly North European children. "Otto will be half Danish, a quarter Scottish and a quarter Irish"; "Tilly's going to have Swedish and Welsh blood"; "Arthur will be Belgian and English". Come off it. There are big cultural and linguistic differences worth cherishing, but meaningful genetic differences? Please. I'm about as mixed European as one can get, and I look like the dad from a John Lewis Christmas advert.

At least ancestry can put people in multiple categories, though, and it's encouraging that we're so willing to let that happen. Even in our other reality — the web! — having an interesting ancestry confers the right to put a string of flag emojis on your social media bios, proudly wearing your categorizations like they're bunting at a UN garden party. Try doing the same with your socio-political opinions. It won't end well.

Just try holding a pro-trans view along with an anti-migration one. Or expressing support for gay rights and Israel in the same tweet. You can do it, but you'll risk a kicking from both sides of the culture war. That tiny but vociferous minority who have come to dominate online politics see everyone as either left (woke), right (fascist) or other (irrelevant, ignorant, and uncaring). If you're on the left or right, you must hold their views on everything. If you're other, then stay away from trigger-issues. Those are the rules.

To hell with them. There are certain topics I won't touch — for instance, you'll never read a healthcare opinion from me that isn't supported by the NHS, and I won't give money advice because even my accountant dodges my calls. Everything else is fair game. This other claims the right to say "It's very complex, and I'm really confused, but this is my thinking at present" about anything he likes.

I will, of course, write with a lot more confidence than that. But I may have had a few glasses of Riesling beforehand — I mean, it's doctor's orders.

Thanks for reading — you’re awesome. I mentioned how well these articles are doing last week, and I think it’s time to expand. The Tuesday sends will remain as they are — free to read and about 750-1200 words long. But I want to send additional content to readers who choose to support me. Tell me what you’d like: