The bizarre relationship between the Tories and patriotism

Superficially, at least, the campaign for a One Britain One Nation day in schools, an obligatory clap for carers and the promotion of its admittedly odd anthem is something few could object to. You have to be a little curmudgeonly, for example, to take issue with the idea that “we are Britain and we have one dream to unite all people in one great team” as the song goes. It even recommends that we “celebrate our differences with love in our hearts”. And who would want to argue that we shouldn’t be a nation of “so many different races, standing in the same place”.

So why the fuss? Why has something that supposedly tries to unite ended up with quite bitter dissent, on social media and elsewhere?

First, there is an understandable suspicion about something that has emerged with something of a Tory flavour to it, and a time when the Conservatives are trying, somewhat clumsily, to monopolise the Union Jack and love of country, and to make these exclusively Tory traits. The founder, an ex-policeman named Kash Singh, appears to be an associate of two Tory MPs, Philip Davies and Esther McVey, who are married (to each other) but, say their detractors, divorced from reality.

The campaign’s backers appear to be predominantly Conservative, and there seem to be relatively few people of colour or supporters from what might be described as the more “woke” quarters of society. Nor is there any sign of enthusiasm from Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland. The Department for Education and Gavin Williamson have adopted it, which may be sufficient enough to kill it stone dead. The attempt to break out of West Riding is laudable but thus so far has made little progress.

It is very Conservative sounding stuff, the kind of meaningless boosterism that can be found in any speech by Boris Johnson. The language of the campaign has generally strong overtones of traditional Tory values and Brexity language, with coded stress on building prosperity through “passion and pride in the nation”, “responsible citizenship”, and the bit about opening doors is in the past tense, signalling that the doors are now firmly shut to Syrians in leaky dinghies, fleeing war. Could the reference to Britain’s “widening shores” be a reference to Empire, and a little nod to “land of hope and glory”? There doesn’t seem much room in this United Obon Britain for the likes of Jeremy Corbyn and those like him who find things to be ashamed about as well as proud of in Britain’s history, and want to build a more equal rather than a more prosperous society. They are, surely, entitled to dissent?

A further irony, and cause for disquiet, is that the country’s schools and children have always been felt to be out of bounds for this sort of loud indoctrination, more associated with totalitarian regimes and Pyongyang than the quieter British way of doing things. Apart from licence to make a fool of oneself on coronation and jubilee days, or at a game of football, cricket or rugby, the British way was all about understatement and tolerance, and acceptance that we have never all shared the same values. Long before the UK became multicultural society, there were plenty of patriotic pacifists, socialists, liberals, anti-monarchists, anarchists, and all the rest who revelled in rejecting society’s norms. Indeed so did the fascists and the neo Nazis. The British have always had in common a streak of cussedness, and a dislike of being ordered about, and no tradition whatsoever of the forced jollity of Obon. The lesson seems clear: no patriotism, please, we’re British.