On Saturday morning as I was doing my shopping I witnessed something which is rarely seen in England – an outbreak of national pride. World Cup Fever had broken out in the city centre; St George’s flag was everywhere, the city streets were awash with red and white and the word on the street was “Ing-er-land”. Apparently it is the same all over the country, even Tony is flying the flag at Number 10 on match days.
Supporters of the English football team in Euro 2004 made flying the English flag something more culturally acceptable. In 2004 an English friend of mine, visiting from Swansea, squeaked with alarm when he saw the England flag being flown so prominently in the multi cultural area of Birmingham in which I lived. Had there been a mass outbreak of racism? I had to explain that no, England just looked like that at the moment, St George’s flag had been rescued from the racists and was out on the streets in force. In 2006 it is now expected that someone flying the England flag is more likely to be a football supporter than a BNP voter. But why don’t I want one?
JVC Volunteers from overseas have often found that living in Britain and seeing another culture has helped them appreciate their own and find a renewed sense of pride or identification with it. As a community partner, every year I found myself faced with a roomful of puzzled faces as I explain why, as an Englishwoman, I find it very difficult to have any sense of national pride. I explain about having a dual national identity. I am both British and English and take pride in neither. I am not proud of the Great British Empire. I am ashamed of my government’s involvement in Iraq. I do not care about the pound. I am not particularly interested in Elizabeth Windsor and her family. I explain to the puzzled faces that if I hear someone say they are proud to be British I expect them to have quite right wing politics, which I don’t share. And while the Scots and the Welsh are able to express some national pride, it is more difficult for the English. Especially for someone like me, who is not even interested in football!
So I have been thinking about national pride, and whether it is possible for someone like me to have any. Is it healthy for a country if its people allow national pride to be something reserved for racists and beer drinking footie fans? And if I accept that it would be healthy for me to have some, where should I look to find it?
For a clue to finding the kind of nationalism I can identify with, I turned to the only thing I do own which has an England flag on it. This is copy of a Billy Bragg’s album England, Half English. Bragg is talking about national pride but not from the same standpoint as the Daily Mail and the BNP. When it comes to politics, I’m proud to share with Bragg a “socialism of the heart” that has defined his music and campaigning since the 1980s. England, Half English was hailed by one reviewer as ” a musical and lyrical engagement with the notion of Englishness.” In his writing and in and in interviews, as well as in his lyrics, Bragg argues that we must engage with the notion of Englishness. He sees the rise of the BNP and far right racist sympathies as an English problem, pointing out that the BNP have no constituency in Scotland and Wales. Here in England we are less comfortable with our identity. Those of us who would celebrate multiculturalism, who would welcome refugees and the richness of other cultures, have not joined in the conversation about what it is to live in this space we call England. In doing so we have allowed the conversation to be dominated by those who shout the loudest and it is the far right who try to dictate who is and who is not English.
Bragg’s England is multicultural, he points out it has always been that way:
“Britannia, she’s half English, she speaks Latin at home
St George was born in the Lebanon, how he got here I don’t know
And those three lions on your shirt,
They never sprang from England’s dirt
Them lions are half English and I’m half English too”
Bragg’s England, like England itself, is a place full of cappuccino and curry as well as marmite and fish and chips. A multi cultural melting pot that I recognise from living in Birmingham, an English city where Eid, Diwali and Bonfire night often rolled into one long festival of noise and light. An English city where, in the words of one Polish JVC volunteer, “The people are so beautiful, I have never seen so many different colours of people”
So I think it is important be to part of the conversation Bragg is calling for, a conversation about clearing away old symbols and seeing if we find new ones that have more meaning, about not allowing racists to have the loudest voice in this voice in this debate. It was racism that was concerning Bragg when I saw him play at Manchester’s Bridgewater Hall in the run up to the local elections in May. With his Hope not Hate tour he was attempting to raise awareness about the importance of voting in the local elections, especially in places where the BNP were active. Chatting between songs, he talked about the places where the BNP are active, places like Barking where he grew up, where resources are scarce and people who traditionally voted labour don’t feel they are being listened to any more. People who vote for the BNP are people who don’t feel anyone else is listening and who are willing to buy the lie that that multiculturalism the source of all their problems.
As I listened to Bragg, who rants quite eloquently about politics, I did feel a sense of unease. The danger Bragg is highlighting is that of people being left out of conversations; people who don’t vote, people who don’t share in the wealth and resources of a country casting a protest vote, people like me who are too embarrassed by their nation to contribute to a conversation about nationhood. But as I looked round I could see people like me – white middle class city folk cheering leftie politics – Bragg was reaching to the converted.
So what is important is not just conversation, not just chattering for the sake of it. What is important when we have our national conversation is not only joining in but listening, listening to voices that have been marginalised, voices from the outside, voices that tell us uncomfortable truths. I think of the people who have taught me a lot about what my country looks like – the volunteers who come from overseas to spend a year looking at some of the worst bits of Britain and listening to the marginalised.
Marie is on the staff team at JVC
