Earlier today I was listening to a fascinating (bear with me here) show on the radio about the history of carols, and their role in the celebration of Christmas celebrations. Though the show was primarily discussing the church's relationship with carols, their banning by the church during the puritanical period and the resurgance of the 'drunken bawdiness' of the modern song, there was one quite interesting, if throwaway observation made; that of the psychological associations with Christmas singing - initially as a medium of celebration and grief, then of faith and, finally of consumerism. The vague implication of this brief argument was that, much like when we made the shift from the largely pagan celebration of the midwinter struggle into the christian ideology and its associations, without losing the essence of the glowing achievement of having survived the darkest days of winter, that we have now once again moved into a new era. That, in short, we are now worshipping the god of retail.
This is an easy observation to make, not to mention an entirely unoriginal one. Though this particular argument was focusing on the aural traditions and their associations; namely that we hear carols and christmas songs so predominantly from tinny shop speakers, adverts and the films and TV shown in order to facilitate these adverts, that they are, on some deep wired level, associated nearly entirely with consumption, we can extrapolate that point to include nearly every aspect of the modern Christmas celebration. Indeed, a huge number of our 'age old' traditions have been invented in order to sell something; famously, even Dickens's A Christmas Carol was, in essence, written as a 'get rich quick' scheme, a short and speedily written book, bound in ornate gilt and with extravagant plates, the text served to popularise 'traditions' barely unheard of at the time such as a Christmas turkey, holly, the phrase 'Merry Christmas' and even one of the first English manifestations of the German Santa Klaus (in the Ghost of Christmas Present).
Anyway, it's easy to make this accusation and many have already. I happen to quite enjoy Christmas - the build up, the drinks and the food, at least and so don't intend to add to their voices. At least not in the general sense. The thing is, I saw something recently which recently irked me, and something which seems to have been accepted in the world of social media as somehow being a 'good' thing. In fact, from some of the comments I've seen, even as far as being 'The best thing I've ever seen' and something to 'restore my faith in humanity'. Before I continue, here is the video itself:
Now first of all, I accept that this is just a very successful marketing ad. I appreciate that it has done its job incredibly well, and that there are now hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of people that know the name WestJet when they didn't last week. I accept this, but it seems that a lot of people just don't. And that's fine...the beauty of the internet is that there is a lot of content out there that is misunderstood and taken at face value, but what really makes me feel uneasy about this is the reaction of most of those people. 'Heartwarming', 'Heartbreaking', 'Tear inducing'. Some of the more conservative descriptions.
To which bit, exactly, do these comments refer?
While watching the video initially, I just found it a little funny to see the poor bastard who asked for socks - laughing as I considered his regret at the other end of the journey. But then I started to consider the situation more deeply...these people aren't asking their parents for gifts. They haven't been offered the gift, or - if Westjet are to be believed (and having done a bit more digging on this I think they are) - has it been in any way suggested that they will actually receive the gifts. Yet their response to the question, 'if you could have anything for Christmas, what would it be?' (the full question as shown in the blooper reel edit) is...a TV?? A phone, tablet, some boots....
Things. Things and stuff.
What would my response be? And yours? I like to think I would ask to be happy this year. Maybe I would want success for my family, or possibly the drive to achieve something dear to me. Remember, this is hypothetical as far as anyone is concerned - no one actually expected these things.
But this isn't my issue, not really. If people get asked what they want it's often natural to respond with something tangible - something quick, and easy and maybe something already mentally on your shopping list. In fact, if you watch the blooper reel video, you do see that some people asked for things unachievable and therefore not shown (though admittedly these things were a car, a sporting win and a diamond ring), and at the end you do see people being given tickets to see their family, which is a far nicer gesture. My problem is more the reaction to the video itself. That this has been a viral sensation and that people are acting as if Jesus himself has returned to the world to bring peace and humility to all mankind - a feat made even more incredible by the inherent necessity of him being real.
And this, it seems, is what our Christmas is all about. The hit of the season so far is a video showing people being given shit they don't need. The hymn now universally seen as heralding the Western celebration is the background to an advert selling soft drinks and one of the biggest talking points is whether Simon Cowell will 'win' (a term used very loosely) the music competition of the year (SPOILER: He will).
I still love so much about Christmas - the excitement, the never ending parade of celebration drinks, the annual meet up with my old school friends. But one trip into any town centre at this time of year is evidence enough that so many people have their priorities - and not to mention their stress levels - so out of proportion. To give is to receive, and to see people receiving tat is one of the nicest things someone can do for you, apparently.
Oh, and for all of my well meaning guesses, I probably would have just said socks. Or pants...I really need new pants.
