The New Chauvinism
By George Monbiot. Published in the Guardian 9th August 2005
Out of the bombings a national consensus has emerged: what we need in
Britain is a renewed sense of patriotism. The rightwing papers have
been making their usual noises about old maids and warm beer, but in the
past 10 days they’ve been joined by Jonathan Freedland in the Guardian,
Tristram Hunt in the New Statesman, the New Statesman itself and just
about everyone who has opened his mouth on the subject of terrorism and
national identity. Emboldened by this consensus, the Sun now insists
that anyone who isn’t loyal to this country should leave it.(1) The way
things are going, it can’t be long before I’m deported.
The argument runs as follows: patriotic people don’t turn on each
other. If there are codes of citizenship and a general belief in
Britain’s virtues, acts of domestic terrorism are unlikely to happen. As
Jonathan Freedland points out, the United States, in which “loyalty is
instilled constantly” has never “had a brush with home-grown Islamist
terrorism”.(2)
This may be true (though there have been plenty of attacks by
non-Muslim terrorists in the US). But while patriotism might make
citizens less inclined to attack each other, it makes the state more
inclined to attack other countries, for it knows it is likely to command
the support of its people. If patriotism were not such a powerful force
in the US, could Bush have invaded Iraq?
To argue that national allegiance reduces human suffering, you must
assert that acts of domestic terrorism cause more grievous harm than all
the territorial and colonial wars, ethnic cleansing and holocausts
pursued in the name of national interest. To believe this, you need be
not just a patriot, but a chauvinist.
Freedland and Hunt and the leader writers of the New Statesman, of
course, are nothing of the kind. Hunt argues that Britishness should be
about “values rather than institutions”: Britain has “a superb record of
political liberalism and intellectual inquiry, giving us a public
sphere open to ideas, religions and philosophy from across the
world”.(3) This is true, but these values are not peculiar to Britain,
and it is hard to see why we have to become patriots in order to invoke
them.
Britain also has an appalling record of imperialism and pig-headed
jingoism, and when you wave the flag, no one can be sure which record
you are celebrating. If you want to defend liberalism, then defend it,
but why conflate your love for certain values with love for a certain
country?
And what, exactly, would a liberal patriotism look like? When
confronted with a conflict between the interests of your country and
those of another, patriotism, by definition, demands that you should
choose those of your own.
Internationalism, by contrast, means choosing
the option which delivers most good or least harm to people, regardless
of where they live. It tells us that someone living in Kinshasa is of no
less worth than someone living in Kensington, and that a policy which
favours the interests of 100 British people at the expense of 101
Congolese is one we should not pursue. Patriotism, if it means anything,
tells us we should favour the interests of the 100 British people. How
do you reconcile this choice with liberalism? H
ow, for that matter, do
you distinguish it from racism?
This is the point at which every right-thinking person in Britain
scrambles for his Orwell. Did not the sage assert that “patriotism has
nothing to do with conservatism”,(4) and complain that “England is
perhaps the only great country whose intellectuals are ashamed of their
own nationality”?(5) He did. But he wrote this during the Second World
War. There was no question that we had a duty to fight Hitler and, in so
doing, to take sides. And the sides were organised along national
lines. If you failed to support Britain, you were assisting the enemy.
But today the people trying to kill us are British citizens. They are
divided from most of those who live here by ideology, not nationality.
To the extent that it was the invasion of Iraq that motivated the
terrorists, and to the extent that it was patriotism that made Britain’s
participation in the invasion possible, it was patriotism that got us
into this mess.
The allegiance which most enthusiasts ask us to demonstrate is a
selective one. The rightwing press, owned by the grandson of a Nazi
sympathiser, a pair of tax exiles and an Australian with American
citizenship, is fiercely nationalistic when defending our institutions
from Europe, but seeks to surrender the lot of us to the US. It loves
the Cotswolds and hates Wales. It loves gaunt, aristocratic women and
second homes, and hates oiks, gypsies, council estates and caravan
parks.
Two weeks ago, the Telegraph published a list of “ten core values of
the British identity” whose adoption, it argued, would help to prevent
another terrorist attack.(6) These were not values we might choose to
embrace, but “non-negotiable components of our identity”. Among them
were “the sovereignty of the Crown in Parliament” (“the Lords, the
Commons and the monarch constitute the supreme authority in the land”),
“private property”, “the family”, “history” (“British children inherit …
a stupendous series of national achievements”) and “the
English-speaking world” (“the atrocities of September 11, 2001, were not
simply an attack on a foreign nation; they were an attack on the
anglosphere”). These non-negotiable demands are not so different to
those of the terrorists. Instead of an eternal caliphate, an eternal
monarchy. Instead of an Islamic vision of history, a Etonian one.
Instead of the Ummah, the anglosphere.
If there is one thing that could make me hate this country, it is the
Telegraph and its “non-negotiable components”. If there is one thing
that could make me hate America, it was the sight of the crowds at the
Republican convention standing up and shouting “USA, USA “, while Zell
Miller informed them that “nothing makes this Marine madder than someone
calling American troops occupiers rather than liberators.”(7) As usual,
we are being asked to do the job of the terrorists, by making this
country ugly on their behalf.
I don’t hate Britain, and I am not ashamed of my nationality, but I
have no idea why I should love this country more than any other. There
are some things I like about it and some things I don’t, and the same
goes for everywhere else I’ve visited.
To become a patriot is to lie to
yourself, to tell yourself that whatever good you might perceive abroad,
your own country is, on balance, better than the others. It is
impossible to reconcile this with either the evidence of your own eyes
or a belief in the equality of humankind. Patriotism of the kind Orwell
demanded in 1940 is necessary only to confront the patriotism of other
people: the Second World War, which demanded that the British close
ranks, could not have happened if Hitler hadn’t exploited the national
allegiance of the Germans.
The world will be a happier and safer place
when we stop putting our own countries first.