h2g2 is generally such a friendly place that those rare occasions when serious hostility breaks out come as a real shock. Sadly, I was caught up in one of those rare occasions last week. For the first time in my long and very happy association with this site, I was obliged to hit the 'yikes' button in order to get a libellous allegation about myself permanently removed from the site - something that the Editors did without hesitation when the posting was brought to their attention. Then I had to do it all over again when the perpetrator re-posted the same words.

The argument that sparked off this bitter row centred around work. My adversary was outraged that I had left London in order to return to my old home city of Bradford, when I knew perfectly well that Bradford was a place with high unemployment. I tried to explain that I had been unable to earn enough to live on in London, and so thought that it would be a good idea to live somewhere where I had family and friends and a better chance of being able to afford the cost of living: but this appeared to fall on deaf ears. I was told that I should take the advice of Norman Tebbit (an abrasive right-wing UK politician of bygone years) and 'get on my bike' to look for work.

Above all, my accuser was absolutely disgusted by the fact that I had the temerity to claim state unemployment benefits while only applying for the sort of jobs that I thought might suit me. As far as he was concerned, I should have been hammering on the door of my local McDonalds and begging to be allowed to work for the greater glory of the golden arches, for whatever pittance Ronald and friends saw fit to pay me. In passing, he complained that the trouble with scroungers like me was that we had no work ethic.

Well, I obviously can't speak for all claimants. But I am happy to confirm that I personally do not believe in the work ethic. Let me try to explain why.

Clearly, doing work that you find interesting, worthwhile and fulfilling is a fine thing. If I didn't believe that, I wouldn't be sitting here working on this column. But 'work ethic' is defined (in one popular online dictionary, anyway) as 'a belief in work as a moral good' - and that notion seems to me to be patently absurd. Work in a good cause - staffing your local charity shop, say, or helping to build a great website - can of course be morally good. But most private sector employment is ultimately about nothing more noble than boosting shareholders' dividends. If any benefit to the world at large occurs along the way, then it's just an accidental by-product. So why is this idea that working is always good so deeply ingrained in our culture? Why are we taught that any paid employment, no matter how demeaning, is better for us than no paid employment? Could it possibly be because so many businesses depend upon a steady supply of volunteers for daily, badly-paid humiliation in order to make money?

One thing's for sure: the idea of 'the dignity of labour' is well and truly defunct. Actually, it was probably always a pretty dubious concept: I can't imagine that 19th century mill workers felt very dignified at the end of a 14-hour shift. But 'dignity' certainly isn't the word that springs to mind when one considers some of the employment options most widely available in the western world today. There's not much dignity in sitting in a call centre dealing with people who are frustrated before they even get to speak to you because they've been on hold for ages, parroting approved lines that have been given to you to speak, hurrying to complete each call within a prescribed number of seconds, and trying not to go to the toilet too often because you know the supervisor is counting the number of times you do so. Among the many call centre horror stories I've heard was one about a centre where, having put up with all the aforementioned nonsense, workers were threatened with the sack if they didn't smile enough while at work, and another where those who were deemed to have used the lavatories too often were made to wear nappies.

Then, of course, there's the option that was being forcefully urged on myself and other claimants by my flame-war opponent the other day: the one that involves being paid very little, saying 'Would you like fries with that?' a lot, and coming home smelling of cooking oil and onions. Again, not really an existence that seems terribly dignified to me. I suspect that if I tried it, I'd feel like jumping into the deep-fat fryer long before the end of the first day.

The other great abiding social myth about work is that it only counts if you get paid for it. If I'm asked 'what do you do?', I sometimes reply that I spend a lot of time writing for a BBC website. Why not? It's certainly true. Over the past fortnight, when I've been working flat-out to finish a h2g2 University project, I've probably put more hours into h2g2 than many people put into their careers. I know that the question 'What do you do?' really means 'What do you do that you get paid for?', but I see no reason why I shouldn't answer the question that I'm actually asked. Too often, work is only recognised and appreciated as being work if a clear cash value can be put on it. So, for instance, the very demanding and responsible job of bringing up children isn't respected, and single mothers who claim benefits are a regular target for right-wing wrath.

Once again, let me stress that I know that some work can be fulfilling and valuable in every sense. But the idea that any work is inherently righteous and uplifting for the worker is a myth that we all should have seen through a long time ago. Apart from anything else, it's a dangerous, easily abused myth. One of the most tragic places in the world has a gate above which is the slogan 'Arbeit macht frei' - work will set you free. That place is the Second World War concentration camp at Auschwitz, and the slogan is as much of a lie now as it was when the Nazis used it.

One good thing about having some time on my hands at present has been that I have been able to sit back and enjoy the World Cup - and there certainly has been much to enjoy.

Senegal's giant-killing heroics on the first day. The tension and drama of the great USA v Portugal game, and the Americans' eventual deserved success. The fabulous atmosphere that poured out of my TV as South Korea beat Poland before an ecstatic home crowd, and the surprisingly high standard of the two host nations' teams. I've also loved the sheer colour and spectacle of it all. The sea of red South Korea replica shirts in the crowd for their game the other day was quite a sight to see, and of course there's been the usual range of delightfully silly fans' outfits. My favourite bit of fan fashion so far came from the Japanese supporters who re-created their national flag by painting their faces red and then sticking them through holes cut out of white sheets of paper. Not even England's dismal second-half display against Sweden has managed to spoil my enjoyment of the whole thing. Even if England carry on playing like that and end up coming home after the first round, I'll still be keenly anticipating the rest of the action.

Hardly anything about the event has annoyed me - except for Brazil striker Rivaldo's display of amateur dramatics the other day, and his attitude after he was punished for it. In case you missed it, the game between Brazil and Turkey was almost over when Brazil were awarded a corner. Rivaldo went to take it, and Turkey's Hakan Unsal petulantly kicked the ball at him, rather than to him. The ball struck Rivaldo's knee, not particularly hard. He immediately fell to the floor clutching his face. The referee was fooled, and Unsal was sent off.

Before the tournament, football's world governing body FIFA promised to crack down on 'simulation' - play-acting by players, and a few players have quite rightly been cautioned for 'diving' in bids to win penalties or free-kicks. A FIFA disciplinary commission studied the footage of the incident involving Rivaldo and found him guilty of 'simulation' (it was so blatant that they could hardly do otherwise). But all they've done as a result is to fine Rivaldo £5,180 ($7,350) - small change to a soccer star of Rivaldo's stature.

No wonder, then, that Rivaldo remarked:
'I'm calm about the punishment. I don't regret anything. This is something that will never end in football. It is the kind of thing that is going to happen a lot in this World Cup.'

The really sad thing is that he's probably right about that last bit. With so much at stake, no doubt some more players will behave as cynically as he did. And 'simulation' will indeed 'never end in football' until FIFA really get serious about tackling it, and impose suspensions on players who behave like Rivaldo did the other day.

In English domestic football, one of the most serious disciplinary offences that a player or team manager can be charged with is that of 'bringing the game into disrepute' - in other words, giving football a bad name. Those who are found guilty of it are severely punished. FIFA could usefully adopt the same principle here. Few things do more to bring the game into disrepute than shameless cheats like Rivaldo.

The next time I find myself caught up in a heated disagreement, I hope that I'll be able to remember the saintly example of serenity set by Californian ex-prisoner Reynaldo Tovar-Valdivia. He has just been released from jail two and a half years late - because, it seems, the Californian judicial system simply forgot about him until he sent an immaculately polite reminder to the judge who was dealing with his case.

Tovar-Valdivia had been sentenced to ten years' imprisonment for a variety of drug-related offences. However, he successfully appealed against his conviction and, in January 2000, district judge Howard Sachs signed an order for his release. Not unreasonably, the judge assumed that the order had been carried out until he received a courteous letter from Tovar-Valdivia, reading in part: 'I would like to humbly request that this court makes an order invalidating my conviction. Thanks for your time, and have a nice day.'

(It's that 'thanks for your time' bit that gets me.)

It isn't clear precisely what went wrong, or why the belatedly freed man waited so long to contact the judge. California court officials have said that their computer records listed Tovar-Valdivia as having been released long ago. In his letter to the judge, Tovar-Valdivia said that he hadn't been able to reach his lawyer, Larry Pace, for two years. But Mr Pace claims that he never heard back from his client. He has said:
'I assumed he had been released. He wasn't released. It's nuts.'

It certainly seems that way. But it is nice to know that, even in this harsh modern world of ours, patience and courtesy are sometimes rewarded.

Ormy's 'Notes' and Other

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Ormondroyd

06.06.02 Front Page

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