Chapter 254: Passing the Buck
Surrendering can be a tricky business, but first, you need to know where to surrender. It's not like a real battlefield where the enemy is right in front of you, and you can just find a flag of some country, cut off the sides, and raise it high.
But in this battlefield, who should they surrender to in order to ensure the gentlemen's interests as swiftly and efficiently as possible? That's the big question. Making the wrong choice, even if it's just a waste of time, can be quite a nuisance.
Besides, not everyone on the French side is willing to accept their surrender. If they end up with someone who won't accept it, like when Ah Q approached a fake foreign devil and said, "I want to surrender to the revolutionary party," they might get a swift "get lost." If they're too slow to leave, they might even get a few blows to the head.
At this point, there's no time to list targets and analyze them one by one. They have to cast a wide net, reaching out to anyone who might accept their "surrender." English doctors are sending representatives to express goodwill to them. Of course, a more civilized way to put it would be to "express goodwill."
In addition to expressing goodwill to the French, they also need to reach a "friendly reconciliation" with those who already maintain goodwill with the French.
So, all the members of the council are mobilized. President Edward writes down the targets that need immediate visits on a piece of paper, and everyone claims a target to visit.
Dr. James, after carefully examining the list of targets, notices a name: Charles James Fox.
He happens to know this prominent Whig party leader, the famous ladies' man. (Rumor has it that he even led the Prince of Wales astray into becoming a ladies' man.) He had treated Mr. Fox before, and they had conversed. So, he decides to take on this target.
"Ah, James, you don't have to pick. You'll accompany me first to the 'Journal of Scientific Truth' to publish an apology to Miss Bonaparte. After that, we'll visit the British editorial office of 'The Lancet'..."
James knew that this was the most crucial action in this surrender, and, of course, the most difficult and embarrassing one. It was, in fact, initiated by him. So, for this embarrassing task, there was no one more suitable than him. Even if someone else were willing to replace him, he wouldn't feel at ease because they might end up throwing all the blame on him in his absence.
Thinking about this, he suddenly realized he had been in a daze just now and almost volunteered for something else, giving away this vital position to someone else. At that moment, his heart filled with gratitude towards President Edward.
With the targets set, they quickly agreed on a common tone. It was to acknowledge that the Royal College of Physicians had made an error, a misjudgment. They admitted they had been too proud and promised to correct this issue. But there were certain things they couldn't admit:
First, they couldn't admit that the Royal College of Physicians had opposed the French scientific hypotheses for reasons of self-interest.
The Whig party's 'English News Review' was a solemn broadsheet (at least it thought of itself as such) and couldn't publish speculative and unsubstantiated claims. However, it did publish letters from readers. After all, those were the readers' viewpoints, not the newspaper's viewpoints. So, the 'Readers' Letters' section of the 'English News Review' became a breeding ground for all sorts of rumors. Although every sensational 'Reader's Letter' was followed by the paper's editor mildly advising and disclaiming it.
Once the 'English News Review' set the tone, other smaller newspapers quickly followed suit. They weren't the type to worry about maintaining their reputation or pretending to be 'impartial and objective' as the high-end broadsheets did. They were naturally opinionated media outlets, where attitude mattered more than facts. After all, reporting facts required resources, while showing attitude only required a conscience. Small newspapers, with their limited resources, naturally couldn't gather many exclusive news stories, and they already found it challenging to gather facts. If they lost their attitude and conscience, what purpose would they serve?
So, these newspapers churned out a slew of leading prophecies against the Anglicans. Of course, the Anglicans, who were adept at counterattacks, didn't stay quiet. Inclined toward them, newspapers started retaliating, and this inevitably extended to the French 'scientific conjecture.' The Anglicans naturally attacked these baseless 'scientific conjectures,' even raising the issue to the level of the piety of their faith.
However, God used facts to slap the Anglican heretics in the face. In today's era of growing respect for science, even the Catholic Church no longer dared to recklessly burn scientists at the stake. The Anglicans, too, didn't dare to directly confront scientific theories that were replicable and verifiable.
Generally, whenever science made any progress, delving into an area of the unknown, one could always find theologians who had already taken refuge in areas of science that hadn't yet been understood, proclaiming, "You see, we've been waiting for them here." Then, they'd slyly modify their doctrines, transforming their past truths into allegories and metaphors.
The Anglicans were no exception to this, but compared to the Royal College of Physicians, the Anglicans had a more complicated problem. They couldn't apologize, they couldn't admit their ignorance. The clergy and scientists were different; scientists never claimed to possess the ultimate truth, so making mistakes was normal. But clerics were different; they typically declared themselves to be messengers of revealed truths. People followed them because they believed they possessed the ultimate truth. So, they couldn't admit mistakes; doing so would be their undoing.
Since they couldn't admit mistakes and couldn't stubbornly deny them, there was only one choice left—passing the buck.
Clearly, the Anglicans had come to 'The Lancet' for one purpose: to pass the buck. But who could they pass the blame to? They certainly couldn't put it on the French. Because they couldn't say, "The French used magic to deceive us," after all, it wasn't the 14th century anymore. And claiming the French were too cunning, deceiving them, would be admitting their own foolishness.
Although everyone in England knew that there were quite a few fools in the Church, the Church couldn't admit it. It was like the king who had been duped by con artists. Even if he knew he was stark naked, he had to carry on with the procession.
So, President Edward immediately thought that he, along with the Royal College of Physicians, was the best target for passing the blame. The reason the Anglicans made a mistake was all because they had been deceived by them. Yes, everyone knew that the French were the opponents, and if the Anglicans were deceived by the French, that meant the Anglicans were naive. But if it was their own people who turned traitor, they could only blame the Anglicans for being too kind.
"Maybe they're all prepared to accuse us of secretly worshipping the devil when necessary?" President Edward couldn't help but think.
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