Post by Slaine mac Roth on Jun 11, 2006 19:52:56 GMT
England stirs...
By MAX HASTINGS, Daily Mail
09:17am 10th June 2006
This is the season for flying flags: flags on cars, flags in windows, flags on houses. Some ministers make us cringe by waving them. Shops are doing great trade selling them.
For as much of the next weeks as Wayne Rooney's sacred foot makes possible, a host of people up and down the land will follow the flag in a fashion that might impress Kitchener's ghost. And yet, what flag is this?
At the 1966 World Cup, or indeed at any big sporting event until recently, the only emblem which any English person would have thought of hoisting was that of the Union.
We have always known that the Welsh don't do much soccer and the Scots hate cricket, but that was not the point. The Union flag was the national symbol of England and Britain, which were understood to be interchangeable.
Until very recently the only time I can remember seeing St George's Cross fly was on a West End stage around 1950 during a production of that wonderfully soppy Victorian children's melodrama Where The Rainbow Ends.
Few of you will be old enough to remember that its story concerns a group of children, unlucky enough to find themselves in trouble with dragons. They summon St George to the rescue by making a flag out of knickers and ribbons. In 1950, we all sobbed.
If the play was revived these days, the audience of streetwise 21st-century children would have to be issued with sick bags. The point here is that for centuries, St George's flag was almost unknown to most British people. The only credible symbol of patriotism, on the battlefield or the sports field, was the Union flag.
The fact that today, in this World Cup season, the old standard has become invisible reflects a sea-change in attitudes within the United Kingdom. It is possible to date the start of the process surprisingly exactly.
It was 1967, and England were playing Scotland. Before such matches, supporters of both sides had traditionally sung God Save The Queen. This time, however, to the amazement and embarrassment of the organisers, when English supporters started singing the National Anthem, many Scots booed.
By 1976, Scottish sentiment had become so rabid that the Scottish Football Association, with government approval, introduced Flower Of Scotland as a substitute. Mr Tripp's view was interesting, because he was sales director of Turtle & Pearce, the company that had been making flags for Britain's state buildings since 1871.
'I find myself dismayed by the anglophobia often encountered north of the border'
His peroration on behalf of the English ended: "We'll look after ourselves. I think England is discovering a sense of itself." This seemed true when he spoke in 1998, and is even more true today. The English are belatedly stirring, in the face of Celtic greed and hostility.
Having loved Scotland all my life as a visitor, these days I find myself dismayed by the anglophobia often encountered north of the border.
Many Scots, of course, remain as delightful and friendly as they always were. But hardly a day goes by without some McPigmy in the Scottish parliament saying something disagreeable about the English — and the disease is catching.
At Scottish pubs and petrol stations, an English accent often provokes unenthusiastic vibrations from behind the counter. English friends who own property up north meet significant hostility from some local people.
In rural Wales, too, there is resentment of English wealth and second-home owners. The gravy train of English taxpayers' money poured into ridiculous Welsh language projects has brimmed to overflowing, but not enough to still hostility.
It is plain that Ulster's historic destiny is sooner or later to be reunited with the Irish Republic. Where once the south was a poor neighbour, now it is a much richer relation. Many Northern Ireland Protestants dislike us, the English, even more than the Scots or Welsh do.
Yet curiously enough, the followers of dreadful old Ian Paisley cling to us for the reason that once contributed mightily to the solidarity of the United Kingdom: hatred of their Catholic neighbours.
Now that we English have become a largely irreligious people, we forget how powerful was the Protestant bond.
For several centuries, fear of mighty Catholic France and Catholic Spain caused the Scottish, English, Welsh and Irish stick together like glue until long after Waterloo. Now, only the last-ditchers of Northern Ireland still rant on about the 'scarlet harlot of Rome', and mean it.
'The history of the British Isles for the past half-century has been that of England getting richer'
The other great historic binding force of the United Kingdom was, of course, empire.
Scots, in particular, recognised that sharing Britain's worldwide dominion gave them a stake in something much bigger than they could ever have aspired to on their own.
Scots soldiers, traders, engineers fought, made fortunes and built railways and bridges from Calgary to Calcutta. It was a Scot, James Thomson, who wrote Rule Brittannia in 1740.
Even though most of the Irish never welcomed British rule, they fought with us eagerly enough, in those wonderfully named regiments the Connaught Rangers, the Munsters and Leinsters, the Dublin Fusiliers, on a hundred battlefields across the globe.
Likewise the Welsh — although the 24th Foot was not a Welsh regiment, many Welshmen served in its ranks at one of the most famous imperial battles of all, the January 1879 defence of Rorke's Drift's against the Zulus.
Empire reached its apogee, and its last hurrah, in World War II. This — and World War I — gave a renewed lease of life to the United Kingdom, as all its component nations shared the greatest common experience of the 20th century.
For decades afterwards, the memory kept alive deep sentiments in the minds of all who had fought together under the Union flag.
Yet, as the wartime generation aged, the most damaging force of all began to play on the spirit of union: industrial decline in the north and west.
The history of the British Isles for the past half-century has been that of England getting richer, while the lands of steel, coal, mills and shipyards have languished and grown bitter.
Mrs Thatcher, as prime minister, intensified resentment by using Scotland as her testbed for the poll tax.
'In the recent past, the English were the least nationalistic people in the United Kingdom
In truth, it has not been the fault of the English that Wales and Scotland have suffered so much.
Celtic remoteness and the decline of traditional industries have been matched by a decline of entrepreneurial spirit which even homegrown Scottish business surveys acknowledge.
Today, Scotland's population numbers are sustained only by the influx of English retirement families. Glasgow languishes. The English subsidy of Scotland — to the tune of about £1,000 a year apiece — only feeds Scots' self-pity.
They embraced Mel Gibson's idiotic movie Braveheart, which persuaded many younger Scots that they could rebuild a culture out of hating the English.
Our northern neighbour is today in danger of becoming the home of 20th-century lost causes, a metropolis of the state-dependency culture. This would be a tragic fate for a once-great nation, and it is absurd to blame us southerners for it.
In the recent past, the English were the least nationalistic people in the United Kingdom.
A 1996 survey found that 64 per cent of Scots and 41 per cent of Welsh people thought of themselves as Scottish and Welsh rather than British; yet only 25 per cent of the English felt explicitly English.
Today, however, those figures are changing. A growing number of English people are asserting their identity — and not only at World Cup time.
Irritation is turning to real anger; that while the Scots are not very nice to us, Scottish politicians assert a grotesquely disproportionate influence over English affairs, and give their own people an extravagant share of our money.
Northern Irish politicians play the reverse game: they scarcely bother to participate in Westminster debates, unless there is something in them for Ulster.
Shared values?
Of all the unifying forces which once bound the United Kingdom — religion, empire, a recognition of shared economic interest, memory of both World Wars and allegiance to the Crown — only the monarchy is left.
One of the Queen's most significant roles today, of which she is deeply conscious, is as an emotional link between the UK's parts.
Jeremy Paxman wrote shrewdly back in 1998: "The English are rediscovering the past that was buried when 'Britain' was created, and inventing a new future. The red-white-and-blue is no longer relevant, and they are returning to the green of England.
"The new nationalism is less likely to be based on flags and anthems. It is modest, individualistic, ironic — based on values that are so deeply embedded in the culture as to be almost unconscious."
What are those values?
Back in 1940, the BBC — which until recently was one of the great forces for national unity in the century — formed a committee to identify them. Its answers were: a love of tradition and order; a belief in tolerance and fair play; and, of course, a sense of humour.
Back in 1932, a Dutch academic named G.J. Renier wrote a book entitled The English: Are They Human? which achieved a huge popular sale here.
Unafraid of clichés, the author identified the Scots as 'proud, intelligent, religious and unfathomable'; the Welsh as 'minute, musical, clever and temperamental'; the Irish as 'charming, untruthful, bloodthirsty and unreliable'. The English, as 'unintellectual, restricted, stubborn, steady, pragmatic, silent and reliable'.
Today, any successor to Renier would find us much noisier and more extrovert than 70 years ago, and also less tolerant.
Many English people, I think, are weary of being taken for granted, above all by their own rulers, and also by those whose bills we pay.
We do not want John Prescott's idiotic regional governments. We have heard more than enough about everybody else's rights, at the expense of our own.
It is too much to hope or expect that the Scots and Welsh, far less the Northern Irish, will suddenly discover a great emotional enthusiasm for the United Kingdom. Northern Ireland will probably reunite with the Irish Republic in the next generation. Only the British island will then remain.
Wales is too small to think of going anywhere else. The Scots will grudgingly stay on board, because the money is too good for them not to.
Here in England, I think we shall hear much more of this country's name. As Jeremy Paxman suggested, we are rediscovering an English identity, largely forced upon by us by the behaviour of our Scottish neighbours.
In many respects, such a revival is overdue, and welcome.
Yet I hope that English nationalism does not mean that in the future we shall favour the flag of St George over that of the Union, other than in footballcompetitions.
This country has done such great and wonderful things under the old flag, that it will be a tragedy if our national symbol is eve
By MAX HASTINGS, Daily Mail
09:17am 10th June 2006
This is the season for flying flags: flags on cars, flags in windows, flags on houses. Some ministers make us cringe by waving them. Shops are doing great trade selling them.
For as much of the next weeks as Wayne Rooney's sacred foot makes possible, a host of people up and down the land will follow the flag in a fashion that might impress Kitchener's ghost. And yet, what flag is this?
At the 1966 World Cup, or indeed at any big sporting event until recently, the only emblem which any English person would have thought of hoisting was that of the Union.
We have always known that the Welsh don't do much soccer and the Scots hate cricket, but that was not the point. The Union flag was the national symbol of England and Britain, which were understood to be interchangeable.
Until very recently the only time I can remember seeing St George's Cross fly was on a West End stage around 1950 during a production of that wonderfully soppy Victorian children's melodrama Where The Rainbow Ends.
Few of you will be old enough to remember that its story concerns a group of children, unlucky enough to find themselves in trouble with dragons. They summon St George to the rescue by making a flag out of knickers and ribbons. In 1950, we all sobbed.
If the play was revived these days, the audience of streetwise 21st-century children would have to be issued with sick bags. The point here is that for centuries, St George's flag was almost unknown to most British people. The only credible symbol of patriotism, on the battlefield or the sports field, was the Union flag.
The fact that today, in this World Cup season, the old standard has become invisible reflects a sea-change in attitudes within the United Kingdom. It is possible to date the start of the process surprisingly exactly.
It was 1967, and England were playing Scotland. Before such matches, supporters of both sides had traditionally sung God Save The Queen. This time, however, to the amazement and embarrassment of the organisers, when English supporters started singing the National Anthem, many Scots booed.
By 1976, Scottish sentiment had become so rabid that the Scottish Football Association, with government approval, introduced Flower Of Scotland as a substitute. Mr Tripp's view was interesting, because he was sales director of Turtle & Pearce, the company that had been making flags for Britain's state buildings since 1871.
'I find myself dismayed by the anglophobia often encountered north of the border'
His peroration on behalf of the English ended: "We'll look after ourselves. I think England is discovering a sense of itself." This seemed true when he spoke in 1998, and is even more true today. The English are belatedly stirring, in the face of Celtic greed and hostility.
Having loved Scotland all my life as a visitor, these days I find myself dismayed by the anglophobia often encountered north of the border.
Many Scots, of course, remain as delightful and friendly as they always were. But hardly a day goes by without some McPigmy in the Scottish parliament saying something disagreeable about the English — and the disease is catching.
At Scottish pubs and petrol stations, an English accent often provokes unenthusiastic vibrations from behind the counter. English friends who own property up north meet significant hostility from some local people.
In rural Wales, too, there is resentment of English wealth and second-home owners. The gravy train of English taxpayers' money poured into ridiculous Welsh language projects has brimmed to overflowing, but not enough to still hostility.
It is plain that Ulster's historic destiny is sooner or later to be reunited with the Irish Republic. Where once the south was a poor neighbour, now it is a much richer relation. Many Northern Ireland Protestants dislike us, the English, even more than the Scots or Welsh do.
Yet curiously enough, the followers of dreadful old Ian Paisley cling to us for the reason that once contributed mightily to the solidarity of the United Kingdom: hatred of their Catholic neighbours.
Now that we English have become a largely irreligious people, we forget how powerful was the Protestant bond.
For several centuries, fear of mighty Catholic France and Catholic Spain caused the Scottish, English, Welsh and Irish stick together like glue until long after Waterloo. Now, only the last-ditchers of Northern Ireland still rant on about the 'scarlet harlot of Rome', and mean it.
'The history of the British Isles for the past half-century has been that of England getting richer'
The other great historic binding force of the United Kingdom was, of course, empire.
Scots, in particular, recognised that sharing Britain's worldwide dominion gave them a stake in something much bigger than they could ever have aspired to on their own.
Scots soldiers, traders, engineers fought, made fortunes and built railways and bridges from Calgary to Calcutta. It was a Scot, James Thomson, who wrote Rule Brittannia in 1740.
Even though most of the Irish never welcomed British rule, they fought with us eagerly enough, in those wonderfully named regiments the Connaught Rangers, the Munsters and Leinsters, the Dublin Fusiliers, on a hundred battlefields across the globe.
Likewise the Welsh — although the 24th Foot was not a Welsh regiment, many Welshmen served in its ranks at one of the most famous imperial battles of all, the January 1879 defence of Rorke's Drift's against the Zulus.
Empire reached its apogee, and its last hurrah, in World War II. This — and World War I — gave a renewed lease of life to the United Kingdom, as all its component nations shared the greatest common experience of the 20th century.
For decades afterwards, the memory kept alive deep sentiments in the minds of all who had fought together under the Union flag.
Yet, as the wartime generation aged, the most damaging force of all began to play on the spirit of union: industrial decline in the north and west.
The history of the British Isles for the past half-century has been that of England getting richer, while the lands of steel, coal, mills and shipyards have languished and grown bitter.
Mrs Thatcher, as prime minister, intensified resentment by using Scotland as her testbed for the poll tax.
'In the recent past, the English were the least nationalistic people in the United Kingdom
In truth, it has not been the fault of the English that Wales and Scotland have suffered so much.
Celtic remoteness and the decline of traditional industries have been matched by a decline of entrepreneurial spirit which even homegrown Scottish business surveys acknowledge.
Today, Scotland's population numbers are sustained only by the influx of English retirement families. Glasgow languishes. The English subsidy of Scotland — to the tune of about £1,000 a year apiece — only feeds Scots' self-pity.
They embraced Mel Gibson's idiotic movie Braveheart, which persuaded many younger Scots that they could rebuild a culture out of hating the English.
Our northern neighbour is today in danger of becoming the home of 20th-century lost causes, a metropolis of the state-dependency culture. This would be a tragic fate for a once-great nation, and it is absurd to blame us southerners for it.
In the recent past, the English were the least nationalistic people in the United Kingdom.
A 1996 survey found that 64 per cent of Scots and 41 per cent of Welsh people thought of themselves as Scottish and Welsh rather than British; yet only 25 per cent of the English felt explicitly English.
Today, however, those figures are changing. A growing number of English people are asserting their identity — and not only at World Cup time.
Irritation is turning to real anger; that while the Scots are not very nice to us, Scottish politicians assert a grotesquely disproportionate influence over English affairs, and give their own people an extravagant share of our money.
Northern Irish politicians play the reverse game: they scarcely bother to participate in Westminster debates, unless there is something in them for Ulster.
Shared values?
Of all the unifying forces which once bound the United Kingdom — religion, empire, a recognition of shared economic interest, memory of both World Wars and allegiance to the Crown — only the monarchy is left.
One of the Queen's most significant roles today, of which she is deeply conscious, is as an emotional link between the UK's parts.
Jeremy Paxman wrote shrewdly back in 1998: "The English are rediscovering the past that was buried when 'Britain' was created, and inventing a new future. The red-white-and-blue is no longer relevant, and they are returning to the green of England.
"The new nationalism is less likely to be based on flags and anthems. It is modest, individualistic, ironic — based on values that are so deeply embedded in the culture as to be almost unconscious."
What are those values?
Back in 1940, the BBC — which until recently was one of the great forces for national unity in the century — formed a committee to identify them. Its answers were: a love of tradition and order; a belief in tolerance and fair play; and, of course, a sense of humour.
Back in 1932, a Dutch academic named G.J. Renier wrote a book entitled The English: Are They Human? which achieved a huge popular sale here.
Unafraid of clichés, the author identified the Scots as 'proud, intelligent, religious and unfathomable'; the Welsh as 'minute, musical, clever and temperamental'; the Irish as 'charming, untruthful, bloodthirsty and unreliable'. The English, as 'unintellectual, restricted, stubborn, steady, pragmatic, silent and reliable'.
Today, any successor to Renier would find us much noisier and more extrovert than 70 years ago, and also less tolerant.
Many English people, I think, are weary of being taken for granted, above all by their own rulers, and also by those whose bills we pay.
We do not want John Prescott's idiotic regional governments. We have heard more than enough about everybody else's rights, at the expense of our own.
It is too much to hope or expect that the Scots and Welsh, far less the Northern Irish, will suddenly discover a great emotional enthusiasm for the United Kingdom. Northern Ireland will probably reunite with the Irish Republic in the next generation. Only the British island will then remain.
Wales is too small to think of going anywhere else. The Scots will grudgingly stay on board, because the money is too good for them not to.
Here in England, I think we shall hear much more of this country's name. As Jeremy Paxman suggested, we are rediscovering an English identity, largely forced upon by us by the behaviour of our Scottish neighbours.
In many respects, such a revival is overdue, and welcome.
Yet I hope that English nationalism does not mean that in the future we shall favour the flag of St George over that of the Union, other than in footballcompetitions.
This country has done such great and wonderful things under the old flag, that it will be a tragedy if our national symbol is eve
