Barristers’ wigs are the latest front in the war on the eccentricity and traditions that make this country unique, says James Price
“What do ties matter, Jeeves, at a time like this?” asks Bertie Wooster during one of his many misadventures. Jeeves, as omniscient and fundamentally right about everything as ever, replies, quite correctly: “There is no time, sir, at which ties do not matter”.
In this age where even the humble necktie is coming to be seen as an anachronism, it is perhaps no surprise that the other flashes of personality, colour and eccentricity that used to make our City and our country that bit more fun, should also be under attack from the stultifying forces of modernity.
The latest attempts to make Britain as bland and universalist as a corporate press release are as unsurprising as they are deadening. The Garrick Club having fallen like Osgiliath outside the gates of Minas Tirith, now the wonderful tradition of barristers wearing wigs comes under the scrutiny of the Great Eye of diversity and inclusion.
Apparently, it is “culturally insensitive” to make the wearing of wigs compulsory, especially for people with afro hairstyles. As such, English courts are apparently under discussions to “update” their court dress code to make it ‘fit for the 21st century’.
This ghastly move is just the latest battle against every tradition that makes Britain so uniquely successful in the history of the world. The quirky eccentricity is precious in its own right, but there are also practical reasons why such seemingly unnecessary rituals arose and survived.
As part of their training for the bar, these arrogant would-be barristers should have been taught the parable of Chesterton’s fence. This invaluable thought experiment warns that one should never do away with a fence (or in our case, a tradition) until and unless one has bothered to think why it might have been put up in the first place.
In this instance, it is precisely because the wig, gown and winged collar create a level of formality and anonymity that abstracts people as much as possible from the horrible events they are being required to recall. The moment these lawyers stop and think for but a moment that neither the courtroom, nor the world, revolves around them, they will have to acknowledge that their client might want a barrister who looks, behaves, and sounds as though they know what they are doing, rather than somebody trying to make a name for themselves.
Are police officers’ hats similarly offensive to diversity and inclusion, or are they part of the uniform that allows people to identify, at a glance, those who should come to their aid? Would it be better for justice that everyone in a courtroom turns up in tracksuits and political lanyards and makes proceedings all about them? Of course not.
The popularity of the ‘derek guy’, who dissects menswear on Twitter shows that, beyond the courtroom, formality and even considered eccentricity, are deeply missed in this greying world. Just look at the wonderfully silly traditions the City just about manages to cling onto, with its sheep drives and white tie dinners.
The push to the lowest common denominator is a political move, not a caring one, and destroys the traditions that have made the City, and the UK an endlessly wonderful place to live and work. Once everyone has been browbeaten into dressing the same and acting the same, when deviation from the mean is frowned upon, we lose all of the implicit knowledge that was handed down from the hundreds of years of traditions of which we are the lucky inheritors.
So, the next time you walk past Chesterton’s fence, whether it’s a barrister in a wig or the silent ceremony that creates the next Lord Mayor of the City, think what we would lose if it were to disappear. I rest my case.
James Price is director of government relations at the Adam Smith Institute