Burmese Days

I read Burmese Days by George Orwell a few days ago. It was brilliant, highly descriptive, and original. Based on Orwell’s early experiences as a policeman in imperial Burma, it shows how the British were little better than crackpot master race theory purporting Nazis. The British were no different to the Germans of the day in assuming that races other than white were inferior. My fury at such attitudes sprung into a strong love of the modern age as I walked down a road today. I saw an old man, proper looking, rich and middle class, giving directions to an old Indian fellow, short fat and bald yet dignified. Time was a hundred years ago that the rich white man’s equivalent would have snubbed any attempt at conversation from a man of colour as insolence. But not any more. The racists and the bigots have lost. It seems we European clots have finally got it into our heads that other races have the same broad varying spectrum of intelligence, character and disposition as we do, no matter what their aesthetic or cultural differences.