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Essay(s) by G. K. Chesterton
The Art Of Missing The Point
G.K.Chesterton
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       Missing the point is a very fine art; and has been carried to something like perfection by politicians and Pressmen to-day. For the point is generally a very sharp point; and is, moreover, sharp at both ends. That is to say that both parties would probably impale themselves in an uncomfortable manner if they did not manage to avoid it altogether. I have just been looking at the election address of the official Liberal candidate for the part of the country in which I live; and though it is, if anything, rather more logical and free from cant than most other documents of the sort it is an excellent example of missing the point. The candidate has to go boring on about Free Trade and Land Reform and Education; and nobody reading it could possibly imagine that in the town of Wycombe, where the poll will be declared, the capital of the Wycombe division of Bucks which the candidate is contesting, centre of the important and vital trade on which it has thriven, a savage struggle about justice has been raging for months past between the poor and rich, as real as the French Revolution. The man offering himself at Wycombe as representative of the Wycombe division simply says nothing about it at all. It is as if a man at the crisis of the French Terror had offered himself as a deputy for the town of Paris, and had said nothing about the Monarchy, nothing about the Republic, nothing about the massacres, nothing about the war; but had explained with great clearness his views on the suppression of the Jansenists, the literary style of Racine, the suitability of Turenae for the post of commander-in-chief, and the religious reflections of Madame de Maintenon. For, at their best, the candidate's topics are not topical. Home Rule is a very good thing, and modern education is a very bad thing; but neither of them are things that anybody is talking about in High Wycombe. This is the first and simplest way of missing the point: deliberately to avoid and ignore it.
       The Candid Candidate
       It would be an amusing experiment, by the way, to go to the point instead of avoiding it. What fun it would be to stand as a strict Party candidate, but issue a perfectly frank and cynical Election Address. Mr. Mosley's address begins, "Gentlemen,--Sir Alfred Cripps having been chosen for a high judicial position and a seat in the House of Lords, a by-election now becomes necessary, and the electors of South Bucks are charged with the responsible duty of electing, etc., etc." But suppose there were another candidate whose election address opened in a plain, manly style, like this: "Gentlemen,--In the sincere hope of being myself chosen for a high judicial position or a seat in the House of Lords, or considerably increasing my private fortune by some Government appointment, or, at least, inside information about the financial prospects, I have decided that it is worth my while to disburse large sums of money to you on various pretexts, and, with even more reluctance to endure the bad speaking and bad ventilation of the Commons' House of Parliament, so help me God. I have very pronounced convictions on various political questions; but I will not trouble my fellow-citizens with them, since I have quite made up my mind to abandon any or all of them if requested to do so by the upper classes. The electors are therefore charged with the entirely irresponsible duty of electing a Member; or, in other words, I ask my neighbours round about this part, who know I am not a bad chap in many ways, to do me a good turn in my business, just as I might ask them to change a sovereign. My election will have no conceivable kind of effect on anything or anybody except myself; so I ask, as man to man, the Electors of the Southern or Wycombe Division of the County of Buckingham to accept a ride in one of my motor-cars; and poll early to please a pal--God Save the King." I do not know whether you or I would be elected if we presented ourselves with an election address of that kind; but we should have had our fun and (comparatively speaking) saved our souls; and I have a strong suspicion that we should be elected or rejected on a mechanical majority like anybody else; nobody having dreamed of reading an election address any more than an advertisement of a hair restorer.
       Tyranny and Head-Dress
       But there is another and more subtle way in which we may miss the point; and that is, not by keeping a dead silence about it, but by being just witty enough to state it wrong. Thus, some of the Liberal official papers have almost screwed up their courage to the sticking-point about the bestial coup d'etat in South Africa. They have screwed up their courage to the sticking-point; and it has stuck. It cannot get any further; because it has missed the main point. The modern Liberals make their feeble attempts to attack the introduction of slavery into South Africa by the Dutch and the Jews, by a very typical evasion of the vital fact. The vital fact is simply slavery. Most of these Dutchmen have always felt like slave-owners. Most of these Jews have always felt like slaves. Now that they are on top, they have a particular and curious kind of impudence, which is only known among slaves. But the Liberal journalists will do their best to suggest that the South African wrong consisted in what they call Martial Law. That is, that there is something specially wicked about men doing an act of cruelty in khaki or in vermilion, but not if it is done in dark blue with pewter buttons. The tyrant who wears a busby or a forage cap is abominable; the tyrant who wears a horsehair wig is excusable. To be judged by soldiers is hell; but to be judged by lawyers is paradise.
       Now the point must not be missed in this way. What is wrong with the tyranny in Africa is not that it is run by soldiers. It would be quite as bad, or worse, if it were run by policemen. What is wrong is that, for the first time since Pagan times, private men are being forced to work for a private man. Men are being punished by imprisonment or exile for refusing to accept a job. The fact that Botha can ride on a horse, or fire off a gun, makes him better rather than worse than any man like Sidney Webb or Philip Snowden, who attempt the same slavery by much less manly methods. The Liberal Party will try to divert the whole discussion to one about what they call militarism. But the very terms of modern politics contradict it. For when we talk of real rebels against the present system we call them Militants. And there will be none in the Servile State.
       [The end]
       G K Chesterton's essay: The Art Of Missing The Point
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The "Eatanswill Gazette"
An Accident
The Advantages Of Having One Leg
The Amnesty For Aggression
The Anarchist
Anonymity And Further Counsels
The Appetite Of Earth
The Art Of Missing The Point
The Ballade Of A Strange Town
The Boy
A Cab Ride Across Country
The Case For The Ephemeral
Cheese
The Chorus
Christmas
Cockneys And Their Jokes
Conceit And Caricature
A Criminal Head
A Dead Poet
A Defence Of Nonsense
Demagogues And Mystagogues
The Diabolist
The Dickensian
The Dragon's Grandmother
A Drama Of Dolls
The Dregs Of Puritanism
Dukes
Edward VII. And Scotland
The Empire Of The Ignorant
The End Of The World
The Error Of Impartiality
An Essay On Two Cities
Ethandune
The Extraordinary Cabman
Fairy Tales
The Fallacy Of Success
The Fatigue Of Fleet Street
The Field of Blood
Five Hundred And Fifty-Five
The Flat Freak
French And English
The French Revolution And The Irish
The Furrows
The Futurists
The Garden Of The Sea
The Giant
A Glimpse Of My Country
The Glory Of Grey
The Gold Of Glastonbury
A Great Man
The High Plains
How I Found The Superman
How I Met The President
Humanitarianism And Strength
Humanity: An Interlude
In The Place De La Bastille
In Topsy-Turvy Land
Introductory: On Gargoyles
Liberalism: A Sample
Limericks And Counsels Of Perfection
The Little Birds Who Won't Sing
The Long Bow
The Maid Of Orleans
The Man And His Newspaper
The Methuselahite
The Modern Martyr
The Modern Scrooge
The Mystery Of A Pageant
The New House
The New Name
The New Raid
The Nightmare
On Lying In Bed
On Political Secrecy
On Running After One's Hat
On The Cryptic And The Elliptic
The Orthodox Barber
Oxford From Without
Patriotism And Sport
The Perfect Game
The Philosophy Of Sight-Seeing
Phonetic Spelling
A Piece Of Chalk
The Poetry Of The Revolution
The Prehistoric Railway Station
A Real Danger
The Red Angel
The Red Town
Revive The Court Jester
The Riddle Of The Ivy
A Romance Of The Marshes
Science And Religion
The Secret Of A Train
The Sentimentalist
The Servile State Again
The Shop Of Ghosts
Simmons And The Social Tie
Some Policemen And A Moral
Spiritualism
The Steward Of The Chiltern Hundreds
The Strangeness Of Luxury
The Surrender Of A Cockney
The Symbolism Of Krupp
The Telegraph Poles
Thoughts Around Koepenick
The Three Kinds Of Men
Tom Jones And Morality
The Tower
The Tower Of Bebel
The Toy Theatre
A Tragedy Of Twopence
The Travellers In State
Tremendous Trifles
The Triumph Of The Donkey
The Twelve Men
The Two Noises
The Tyranny Of Bad Journalism
The Vote And The House
What I Found In My Pocket
The Wheel
The White Horses
The Wind And The Trees
Wine When It Is Red
The Wings Of Stone
Woman
A Workman's History Of England
The Worship Of The Wealthy
The Wrath Of The Roses
The Zola Controversy