Many years ago, I read an article describing a medical research study, the results of which suggested a connection between regular consumption of coffee and the development of lung cancer. I was immediately concerned by this report, because I used to drink several cups of strong coffee each day. I was also immediately puzzled, because I could not see any plausible causal connection between the consumption of coffee and the health of the lungs. I could more easily have understood that coffee might have harmful effects on the mouth or the throat or the stomach, but I had always considered it a wonderful feature of the human anatomy that while both air and liquids come into the body through the same entrance, somehow we were able to direct the former to the lungs to be processed in the aerobic system and the later to the stomach to be processed in the digestive system. I have no expertise in medicine or anatomy, but the article’s result seemed suspect to me.
I was right. A short time later, I read an article that rebutted the conclusions of the first research paper, pointing out that the reason why there was a connection between coffee drinking and lung cancer was simply because many people who smoked numerous cigarettes also liked to drink plenty of coffee. Nicotine not caffeine was the cause of the lung cancer, but smoking was highly correlated to coffee drinking, and thus coffee drinking is indirectly related to the prevalence of lung cancer, but in a non-causal way. It is not hard to imagine other examples of this sort of relationship. Eating fish – high in protein but low in fat – is generally regarded as a healthier choice to eating meat, especially processed meat. However, if my habitual piscine meal is English style “fish ‘n’ chips”, which I eat most days of the week, then any health benefits from the fish are likely to be overwhelmed by the excess calories and saturated fats that I absorb via my consumption of chips.
The source of these sorts of correlation mistakes is located in our way of thinking rather than in the world itself. The world is not confusing, but we confuse ourselves about it. In our minds, we connect two discrete elements or characteristics, and transfer across the merits (or demerits) of one element onto the other. We mistake what is an “accidental” connection (that is, one that could be otherwise) for an essential connection (that is, one that could only be this way). We rush to the conclusion that a frequent connection, or a regular correlation, implies some form of causal relationship.
Sometimes this error can be harmless. I recently went to see an exhibition of work by the artist Judy Chicago at the Serpentine Gallery in Hyde Park, London. The Serpentine Gallery consists of two separate buildings, both of which are firmly rectangular. There is nothing curvaceous or sinuous about either of them. However, they are both located adjacent to The Serpentine, the name of the lake in Hyde Park, which does have a distinct curved form. The gallery takes its name from the shape of the water close to which it stands, rather than from its own shape. English naming conventions are often confusing in this way: Buckingham Palace is not in Buckingham, Millwall Football Club no longer play in Millwall, and the Old Bank of England is not a bank, but a pub.
Other examples, however, are less innocent. Consider the connection between the colours of the Dutch football team, the controversial sectarian parades that take place in Ulster each July, and the old Boer Republic based around Bloemfontein, that now forms part of South Africa. All of these derive their name from a small Provençal town just north of Avignon. Once a Gaul settlement, made prosperous by the Romans but later sacked by the Visigoths, the town of Orange became independent during the medieval period, and was eventually, through inheritance, acquired by the House of Nassau, an aristocratic dynasty based primarily in the Holy Roman Empire. Although clearly located within the borders of France, the town of Orange belonged for a while to a wealthy north-west German family until 1713, when it was given up to France as part of the Treaty of Utrecht.
William of Orange-Nassau (1533-1584) became the preeminent leader of the Dutch rebellion against Habsburg rule in the sixteenth century. After his assassination, he became known as the “Father” of the Dutch nation. William’s popular name – “the Silent” – derived not from his lack of speech, but from the diplomacy and discretion of his speech. As leader of the Dutch struggle for independence – which was in large part a battle for religious freedom: to protect the nascent Calvinist and other Protestant churches of the Netherlands from the Habsburg Emperor’s attempt to reimpose the Catholic orthodoxy of the Counter-Reformation – William advocated toleration and freedom of worship. There was nothing dogmatic about his religious or political practice. And yet, because the House of Orange became synonymous with the struggle of the small rebellious underdog nation against a far stronger imperial foe, and with the defence of Protestantism against Catholicism, so too the name (and colour) Orange was embraced first by those settlers of Dutch origin in the Orange Free State, who were opposed to British imperialism, and later those Protestants in Ireland who were opposed to Catholicism, and who pledged loyalty to William III of England (the great-grandson of William the Silent). The politics associated with Orange in South Africa and Ulster are neither diplomatic nor discreet. On the contrary, they are very loud, highly divisive, and have nothing to do with Provence.
My next example is topical, given the recent, brief outbreak of lawlessness in some English cities, characterised by drunken, angry men, draped in English flags, throwing insults and debris at the police who were lined up to defend the lives and property of recently arrived immigrants. The existence of small groups of right-wing nationalists, mostly comprised of low-life criminals, who harass and terrorise members of immigrant communities, and Muslims in particular, is hardly unique to England. Similar groups can be found all over northern Europe. The specifically English element of the riots in England was the widespread presence of the English flag – a red cross on a white background – which represents the cross of St George, who is the patron saint of England.
Not much is known for certain about George. The historical sources that refer to him are few and often unreliable. However, it is generally agreed that he was born in Lydda (now called Lod, in modern day Israel) to a Roman father and Greek mother, and that as a young man in his twenties he served in the Roman army as part of the Imperial Guard. It is said that he refused to participate in the persecution of Christians that was ordered by the Roman Emperor, Diocletian. Instead he declared his own Christian faith, for which crime it is reported that he was tortured and executed at the Emperor’s command. His death is recorded as 23 April, the year 303. In 494, George was canonised by Pope Gelasius, for “actions known only to God”. Whether he ever slew a dragon (or, more plausibly, a crocodile) is hard to ascertain, but the myth that he did so is derived from a story that relates to a town in North Africa.
One thing that is certain – as certain as the historical record allows – is that George never visited England. So, how did a mixed-race soldier from Palestine, who perhaps performed a feat of bravery in small town in Libya, become the patron saint of England? And why do English nationalist rioters wear his flag with pride? Why, for that matter, do the Catalans also celebrate Sant Jordi, who never visited Barcelona either? And why do the English and Catalans not seem to care that each culture claims this Middle-Eastern martyr as their own? No doubt for the same reason that the Boer separatists and the Ulster Unionists claim for themselves the heritage of the House of Orange, but would have fought bitterly against each other in the war of 1899, both sides believing that in doing so they were expressing their loyalty to the traditions and values of the Orange dynasty.
I’m sure that Judy Chicago does not mind that the gallery in London that recently showed her work was angular rather than serpentine in shape. Contrariwise, I suspect that William the Silent would find little common ground with the religious and political dogmatists of County Down and Bloemfontein, and would be unhappy that his family name had been co-opted by them. As for George, it is hard to imagine him showing any sympathy with the godless rioters of urban England. More likely, he would be ready and willing to slay the dragon of racism.
Meantime, as I try my best to disconnect ideas that have become correlated in my mind for no good reason, I will continue to take chips with my fish once in a while, but I am resolved never to take a cigarette with my coffee.