You know what really gets right up my nose? Scotland. This wee tiny country, with a population the size of a decent Indian traffic jam, has been punching so far above its weight for centuries it’s a miracle we didn’t rupture something. James Watt, Alexander Graham Bell, John Logie Baird, Adam Smith, David Hume – these boys basically built half the modern world while the rest of the planet was still arguing over who gets the biggest share of goat. The Enlightenment? The steam engine? Penicillin? The telephone? No bother at all. A nation of hard-headed bastards who could invent civilisation in the morning and still be blootered on whisky by teatime.
And what do we do now? We pack our own lot off and bring in…Indian “talent.” Oh Jesus, the comedy of it! You’ve got fellows arriving from a country where the average IQ sits around 80 – eighty, mind you, which used to be officially classed as retarded not that long ago. Only about one in ten of them even reaches a normal Western 100. That’s their “top tier.” Their Brahmins, the so-called elite, manage a magnificent five points higher: eighty-five. Recently reclassified out of mental deficiency. Well done, lads, crack open the mango lassi!
AAMR changed its definition in 1973, partly in response to concern about the inappropriate overidentification of minority students as mentally retarded. The new definition eliminated the classification of borderline retardation, and changed the upper criterion of scores on intelligence measures from 85 to 70 or below (Grossman, 1973). The result was a significant reduction in the numbers of children eligible for special school services and governmental supports. Levels of retardation were also redefined slightly.
An Indian sitting at an international IQ of 100 thinks he’s the second coming of Einstein, because back home he’s in the top few percent, strutting about like a peacock with two dicks. But here in Glasgow, Edinburgh, or any proper Western town, 100 is just… average. Your postman, your electrician, your auntie who does the books for the local pub. Nothing special. We’ve got millions of our own at that level, and plenty more climbing far higher, the real rocket scientists and mad inventors who keep civilisation moving forward.
Yet we’re importing these overconfident midwits who haven’t calibrated their mirrors yet.It’s like replacing a thoroughbred racehorse with a donkey that thinks it’s Secretariat because it won the village cart-pulling contest. The donkey’s not bad at eating hay and looking smug, I’ll give it that. But it’s not writing the next chapter of civilisation, is it?
And here’s the deeper, sadder philosophical bit. There’s a quiet tragedy in mediocre people straining and suffering to impress a culture that is far more capable than anything they’ve ever aspired to create. They arrive convinced they’re special, yet they’re stepping into institutions, laws, science, and freedoms built by minds with thicker high tails and higher averages. Instead of humbly learning from it, too many puff themselves up, mistaking average performance for brilliance. The result is a slow dilution. A civilisation that once reached for the stars now congratulating itself for importing people who merely want a better seat on the rocket someone else designed. They’ll never understand the voyage, its potential trajectory, or the stirrings of the souls who conceived it. The are empty, dull, disordered creatures who react but can never create. A few outliers several standard deviations exceptional from their norm makes them totally average among Western populations. And how should a merely average person told they are incredible ever realize their actual situation? Or ever come to understand why others look at them contemptuously as a blight upon civilisation, made worse by them having hundreds of millions of redundant masses jostling to escape their horrible homeland?
And the absolute cream of the jest is watching our own elites, those shiny-arsed bastards in London, Brussels, and Washington orchestrating the whole swap like it’s some grand humanitarian triumph. Malicious? Ignorant? Blackmailed? Or just running the biggest scam in history? They’re turning high-trust, high-output societies into something that looks more and more like the filthy dysfunctional shithole the newcomers left behind, all while patting themselves on the back for imposing diversity no one wanted, euthanizing the only people able to create cultures that advance civilisation beyond triviality and perpetual sewage problems.
You couldn’t make it up. It’s like watching a man saw off his own legs and then congratulate himself on being closer to the ground.
Scotland’s laughing, but it’s the kind of laugh that turns into a quiet cry if you think about it too long. The gods of comedy are pissing themselves up there. And so am I. Pass the whisky.