Planet Pride
I’ve noticed a lot of news lately centred around
patriotism, nationalism and cultural identity. Usually these are tragic stories
involving rebel groups in war torn international countries with political
situations we could never hope to comprehend or wish to experience. This week, however,
the UK amused me by creating a few of their own.
First we had UKIP’s latest campaign urging us to
stop other Europeans crossing our borders and taking our jobs, which resulted
in party leader Nigel Farage feebly fending off some awkward questions about
his German wife, who he employs as his secretary. Then there was the
announcement that Cornish people are now officially recognised as a national
minority group, entitling them to the same special protections given to Scots,
Welsh and Irish Celtic communities under European law. In the midst of all this
came Saint George’s Day, when thousands of people (bear in mind we have a
population of 60million) celebrate and display their national pride.
I’m not offended by any of the flag waving and
singing (although if we’re going to have a national anthem, shouldn’t it be
about the country?!) I just don’t get it. I’m not really sure what they’re
proud of. I’m not even sure that they’re sure. And where does all that pride
and affection go when there aren’t patron saint days, England football matches,
or televised royal events? It seems to me that the favourite pastime of the
English for the other 350 or so days of the year is moaning about the state of
the country’s infrastructure, politics, economy, industry and society, its unpredictable
weather, long working hours and how generally terrible it is to live here.
We’re not fighting for independence, or freedom,
or recognition like the other nations that make the news for flying their flags.
We’re not achieving much at all at the moment. It’s been a long time since the
empire fell, and I question if a history of violently colonising 25% of a whole
planet, only to leave many nations in social, political and financial ruin is
really something to be celebrated in an enlightened and developing modern
world.
I’m also confused by the way it’s celebrated. Surely
the point of honouring your national identity is to preserve its culture and
traditions, however weird and wonderful they may be, but there don’t seem to be
many people spending April 23rd enjoying high tea or garden parties,
morris dancing and rolling cheese down a hill. It appears to be a celebration
of a much more modern part of English culture - binge drinking imported beer,
wine and spirits and getting rowdy in the streets.
The part of it I understand least doesn’t only
apply to the English, but to humanity as a species, and that’s the intrinsic
need to label and categorise themselves. I can see how a sense of belonging,
heritage and roots might be comforting to some, but it seems crazy to me that
millions of people with absolutely nothing else in common band together to
celebrate social conditioning and boast about the totally random circumstances
of where they were born.
Patriotism has also become dangerous territory in
recent years. Nationalism always treads a fine line between pride and
superiority, in whichever country it originates. In England, while the socially
acceptable union flag can be found emblazoned on every household item, fashion
accessory and tourist souvenir possible, the flag of St George has been associated
with far-right nationalist groups for so long that the common man is now
reluctant to bear it for fear of being labelled racist. While I have no problem
with national pride, I do have a huge problem with anyone arrogant or deluded
enough to think that the being born on a certain patch of land somehow puts
them above everyone else. I can think of no more ridiculous excuse to start a
war, yet it’s one that’s been used over and over again.
My own beliefs and sense of identity fit in much
better with the other annual celebration of the week, which was sadly overshadowed.
The day before the nation revered its
dragon slaying saint, it was Earth Day. Yes, I am of Scots Celtic descent, I am
English, I am British and I am European, but above all, I am human, and a grateful
citizen of Earth. Instead of continuing to segregate ourselves into small
minorities and childishly argue about who’s the best, perhaps we should look at
the bigger picture of the birthplace we all
share. If living on the same portion of a tiny island is enough to bond people
so deeply and enthusiastically, then surely sharing the mighty planet that
sustains us all should take precedence over any of the man-made divisions of
its land masses and their petty disputes. Now that’s a cause worthy of
celebrating and preserving, and I hereby nominate Sir David Attenborough as its
patron saint.
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