Who do we think we are? National and religious identities #3

In the third in a series of extracts from the new edition of Faith in Politics? Richard Harries discusses both national and religious identities ...

British Identity

America, as we know, despite its hugely varied ethnic makeup, has a strong sense of national identity symbolised by the flag, and standing to attention before it with one arm across the chest, on big occasions. It has been suggested that in this country we need to find something equivalent in order to generate a sense of British solidarity and loyalty across all our various communities. I am a little sceptical about such ideas myself, for I suspect that symbolic expressions of loyalty have to grow naturally and organically, and any attempt to impose something like that would strike people as artificial. However, the concept of Britishness has two components – what we might call the emotional pull, and the values enshrined in the idea of British citizenship. The latter is of great importance, and needs serious attention. It is right that people who have newly acquired British citizenship should take part in a citizenship ceremony, and I understand that these have turned out to be something of a success. It is right that children should be taught citizenship at school, and that this should be an important and not a marginal part of the curriculum. Children are also taught history at school, and what is taught in that class clearly has a very close relationship to the pupil’s understanding of who they are and their identity as citizens. So first something about this.

History in the old days was very much a national narrative about kings and queens, great men and the advance of empire. It is, I hope, taught very differently now. From a Christian point of view, it seems to me that the key principle we will want to bring to bear, not alone but along with other concerns, will be one of inclusivity. The key characteristic of the ministry and teaching of Jesus was his desire to include those whom others excluded. This has implications for all aspects of life, personal and political. It means that the national narrative taught in schools will be such as to make all the pupils in the class feel that they belong to this society about whom they are being taught. So it will not just be about men, but about women; not just about movers and shakers, but the vast majority of humanity, the nameless poor. It will not just be history from the standpoint of the imperialist, but from that of the subjugated; so it will not just be a history of white people, but of Asian and Black people and of their contributions both to civilisation in general and to the history of this country in particular. There should be a national narrative – for there will be one, whether people think there is or not – and therefore the one we have should be done consciously. It should in effect be constructed with a view to what we want to achieve through it. A good example in recent years has been the way people have started to think of immigration, particularly in relation to the East End – not as something that began after World War II but as a feature of our history for two thousand years, and not as a threat but as an enrichment. An attempt was made to do this on the stage with a play at the National Theatre that opened in February 2009 entitled English People Very Nice. Of course, it is possible to go to the opposite extreme and seek to create a national narrative like that in the Soviet Union, Fascist Germany and nationalist dictatorships the world over. So we need to be on our guard here. National narratives are indeed constructs, but they have to be rooted in the truth, and this means dealing with the dark side, the negativities of national history, as well as its achievements. It is not a question of fabrication but of selection, ordering and emphasis within the totality of what is available to pass on from the past to the next generation. It was very good to read not long ago that Germany and France have now published a joint history for teaching in schools. It is wonderful to think how much chauvinistic damage a history like that can undo just through the facts it selects and how it puts them forward.

This national narrative can clearly play its part in bringing about a healthy emotional attachment to the idea of being British. Depending on what is taught and how it is taught, pupils will be found to belong and define themselves in that way, or they will be alienated. But, as I have suggested, though important, this emotional content has to grow naturally and organically. At the same time as this creative teaching of history through an inclusive national narrative, there is the important question of what people can and should commit themselves to when they describe themselves as British citizens. Those who acquire British citizenship are currently supposed to swear:

I, (name), swear by Almighty God that on becoming a British citizen I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, her heirs and successors according to law.

I will give my loyalty to the United Kingdom and respect its rights and freedoms. I will uphold its democratic values. I will observe its laws faithfully and fulfil my duties and obligations as a British citizen.

Timothy Garton Ash says about the first part of this oath:

‘Now I myself am rather attached to the novels of Sir Walter Scott, but in 2008 this is an amazing load of anachronistic bunkum. First of all, let’s leave God out of it, shall we? Secondly what on earth does it mean to ‘bear true allegiance’ to Her Majesty, and why should I extend this courtesy to Prince William, let alone Harry?’

Perhaps the language is unnecessarily anachronistic, but that does not mean to say that the sentiments themselves can simply be thrown away. As a teenager, I was a republican. In those days the national anthem was played at the end of every public performance in the theatre and cinema. When my mother stood to attention, I remained firmly in my seat and a fierce row ensued. It was some years later that I was converted from this view – by a casual conversation. I was attending some official gathering at Westfield College, in the University of London, and chatting to Norman St John Stevas, as he then was (later Lord St John of Fawsley). Somehow we got onto the question of the Monarch, and he pointed out that the Sovereign was the one symbol we now have that in some way unites the whole of our society. He was right, and despite the decline in the prestige of the monarchy since then, and active hostility to it in some quarters, it is still about the only symbol we have. Furthermore, the basis of our constitution, though unwritten, is not simply Parliament, but the Queen in Parliament under God. When there is so little that binds our country together, it seems foolish to jettison what, for all its historic faults, has in fact been a central feature in our national identity for hundreds of years, if not longer. Edmund Burke’s understanding of society as something organic, persisting over time, with obligations both to the past and the future, always changing but doing so incrementally, rather than by a violent chopping away, seems relevant here.

With the second part of the oath of allegiance, Timothy Garton Ash firmly agrees, and so do I. This encapsulates the essentials of what it means to be a British citizen, with the emphasis on citizenship. As I have suggested earlier, the emotional content of this, its symbolic expression and so on, probably has to grow organically and naturally. An example of such growth in relation to Englishness, rather than being British, is the emergence of flags of St George in recent years, not least at sporting fixtures, rather than the Union Jack.

Citizenship is a different matter. This is a concern which the Government has a proper responsibility to promote, and which it now seeks to do in various ways, as already mentioned. It should certainly include education about the rights and responsibilities of citizenship, teaching about the rule of law and the political values underlying it, and about our system of parliamentary democracy. None of this, perhaps, is very sexy, but it is essential if our society is to be a value-based one, in which people participate and to which they feel a real sense of belonging, whatever ethnic or religious background they come from.

This is an extract from Faith in Politics? Rediscovering the Christian Roots of our Political Values  by Richard Harries newly updated and reissued for 2015, available in paperback and eBook priced £12.99.