Britishness

I’ve been fortunate to see a fair-few parts of the world. I’ve seen the Czech repubilc, Slovalkia, Hungary, Poland, travelling the full width of Europe. I’ve now made it to the most Northerly parts of Europe too. I’ve spent time working on the American East coast, and I’ve seen the West coast, with ocassional forays in Canada too. It always strikes me what an amazing, strong and vivid sense of national identity different places have. The pride that people show in their countries. Their sense of belonging to their country. Their sense of their country belonging to them.

This has certainly been the case as we remember the events of September the 11th 2001, but Americans always seem to have national pride. Walk down any street in ‘middle America’ and every other house will have a flag flying outside. It’s against the law to burn the star-spangled banner, unless it’s because it’s accidentally touched the floor, in which case it must never be used again. I can’t help thinking if I started flying the St George flag outside my house tomorrow, I’d be investigated by the BBC, or it’d be nicked, possibly after the BNP drop by to invite me to stand for parliament.

Maybe it’s because every child in America pledges teir allegiance to their country every morning before starting their daily lessons. Maybe it instills a sense of pride in what their country is, what it stands for, and of its people. Maybe that’s the answer in England. Except, if we did that, people would be picketting outside schools saying our children are being brainwashed. More likely, there’d be a fear that we’d churn out a generation of skinheads looking to tackle immigration in a ‘hands-on’ way.

I think Billy Bragg says it well:
“They piss in the public fountains, to show their national pride.
What do they know of England? Only England knows…”

It’s a pity really. For me, Englishness is the stiff upper-lip, quiet and well-spoken traveller. But hang on a minute, that’s a stiff upper-lip fighting wars and gaining Colonial ground. Okay, well, in that case its frosty mornings, with gentle dew overhanging chestnuts trees on a green hill. But, hang on a minute, that’s a very middle-class thing for those growing up in surban sprawl or inner city tower blocks.

Oh I give up…