There may be more effective ways to bring the nation together than a St George’s Day festival, writes Lucy Kenningham
A rather sad tribute to St George’s Day took place on Sunday. In a particularly drab-looking Trafalgar Square, little flags were erected and food tents set up. London Assembly sent out the programme: welly wanging, sea shanty chanting, face painting, pearly kings and morris dancing. There would be folk dancing and music from a band called ‘The Snottledogs’.
One attendee, high on the idea of witnessing English nationalism for the very first time, filmed a vlog for Youtube. He marvelled at the scene in front of him. “Okay, I take it this is St George’s sword, that’s St George and that’s the dragon that he’s slayed. Boom! The cross is everywhere – everywhere, finally. Finally, people are allowed to be English!” In the background, a small child does a cartwheel on the despicably dirty floor of an especially drab looking Trafalgar Square, in an area penned off like a compounded pig pen. The video spans a sparse crowd, mainly made up of bedraggled tourists. The problem with this little festival is exposed: hardly anybody turned up.
Is that surprising? It is well known by now that the English struggle with the concept of Englishness. We have generally been the oppressors, not the oppressed – a far less rallying state of affairs. That bothers some, as our influence wanes as a country. In search of Englishness, and perhaps increasingly riled by the frenzied hedonism of Guinness-fuelled St Patrick’s Days – some have alighted upon a hook by which to grab ahold of English identity and pull it out of its murky depths: elevating the patron saint of England (and Bulgaria, Catalonia, Ethiopia, Portugal and Russia) on the day of his supposed death, 23 April.
George has been our patron saint since the Reformation, but he did not used to be celebrated save for a few roses pinned to lapels in the late 1700s. Fretting about a lack of national cohesion, a society founded in 1894 set out to change that. The Royal Society of St George aimed to deploy the 23 April “to awaken patriotic Englishmen and Englishwomen and establish ‘on a permanent basis a patriotic English society’”. The group garnered much political influence and achieved support from every monarch. “Even today, though some of the old glories have dimmed, England maintains her inner strength, her quiet dignity,” the society writes. Early activities were limited but pointed. The society’s history reads: “The Morning Post reported with great enthusiasm on the association’s success in ‘arranging for the bells of the churches of St Martin’s-in-the-Fields and St Mary Abbott’s, Kensington, to be pealed yesterday’ and in having the ‘banner of St. George flown from the steeples of those edifices’.”
There is a misconception that nationalism must be based upon ideas of ‘the past’. In fact, there are concepts more likely to bring the English together than other than ancient, dragon-slaying saints.
Post-colonial 21st century angst has triggered another episode of fringe Georgeophilia. The charity English Heritage has proposed 23 April as a national holiday; Jeremy Corbyn likewise in his 2017 election manifesto. And it was, in fact, Boris Johnson who hosted the inaugural Trafalgar Square tribute to our patron saint in 2009. But clearly too few are enthralled by the prospect of welly wanging and morris dancing, pearly kings and queens. Perhaps ancient ideas of a long-lost Englishness that holds little appeal today.
But all is not lost for those who yearn for patriotism. Wander across London on that same Sunday and you’d have seen another celebration, arguably far more successful in inspiring pride in and across our nation, albeit in a less overt manner. The London Marathon. England is not comfortable waving flags and we’ve (generally) too much self respect to engage in morris dancing. There is a misconception that nationalism must be based upon ideas of ‘the past’. In fact, there are concepts more likely to bring the English together than other than ancient, dragon-slaying saints.