"Proudly American."
"Irish to the core."
"Authentically Italian."
These, and many other somewhat jingoistic slogans, are always popular among the "nationalist" and "patriotic" elements of any country - homo sapiens is, after all, still a tribal species at heart, seeking belonging and identity, forging a sense of self in the fires of reliance on external forces.
But how many people, responding with either quiet pride and a knowing nod, or wild, over-the-top, sometimes downright anti-social, applause, really know what their "national identity" looks like?
I'm a mongrel Brit - born in Britain, in England, to be precise, the product of an Irish father, and a mother whose family contains some amount of Franco-Jewish blood. I'm "white", I speak mostly unaccented English. I am what most people think of, I suspect, when they think of "Britain."
So, what do I think of when I hear the phrase "British values?"
I think of the British habit of not taking anything seriously, of making a joke out of even the gravest of situations, of satirising anything we can get our hands on, of understanding important socio-economic and political issues through humour - the cult classic Carry On At Your Convenience, for example, was an attempt to explain the industrial disputes and regular strikes of the heavily-unionised 1970s, while earlier films from the franchise had sought, as Blackadder would also do - somewhat more successfully, in my opinion - to explain historical events. I think of the sarcasm newly arrived Americans sometimes struggle to understand.
I think of village-green cricket, where who wins or loses never seems to matter so much as that the game is played well,and fairly, and everyone - players and spectators - enjoys themselves.
I think of egg-and-veg stands outside rural houses, the trusting "please put money in the box" - and of the fact that there always is roughly the right amount of money in the box - several pound coins, a few handfuls of silver, sometimes, even, the odd five-pound-note that makes you wonder if the person who left it bothered to take their change.
I think of city-street buskers, of people calmly, quietly, and politely watching them play or perform, occasionally throwing money in their coffers.
I think of Monday-morning moans, as we go to work anyway, reliably, dutifully - and always on time.
I think of the way that, however crowded the bus or train is, no one ever speaks to anyone, unless they already know them.
I think of neighbours who've spent ten years or more nodding at each other, but still don't know one another's names.
I think of the way nothing can divide or unite us quite so quickly, violently and completely as football.
This is my Britain, and, looking through this little list, my concept of British values is fair play, polite, pleasant reticence, honesty, and humour. And the need for something to fight over that, at the end of the day, we all know isn't really that important.
None of those values are race, gender, sexuality or ability-dependent; all of them will enable someone to "fit in" much more quickly than knowing what the Magna Carta is, when it was signed, and whether the House of Lords can overrule the House of Commons. (It is the document that separated the State from Royal control, and began the process of what we now understand to be democracy, it was signed in 1215 - I had to look that date up - and no, they can't. These are all sample questions from the "Life in the UK" test, that those applying for residency here are obliged to take.)
When I think of Britain, I think of the bustling markets of the East End of London, a sea of colours, people, produce, accents, and tongues. I think of the soft, burred voices of Somerset and Cornwall, the harsh bark of Essex, and the warm, enveloping hug of Birmingham. I think of sea shanties and rock music, classical symphonies and amateur rappers. I think of footballs streaked with grassy mud, children's voices shouting the order of play. I think of dogs romping on community playing fields, and old men fishing grimy rivers. I think of the sea that's always at our backs, never more than about 70miles away from any point, and I think of the beetling, dark fells of the Lake District. I think of rain, and of suspicions around balmy summers. I think of the tribality of males, which sounds threatening, but, once you're a part of it, is actually friendly and protective.
Nothing in my Britain says "whites only", nothing in my Britain sees any reason why anyone can't belong - I belong, and I don't even like football!
But I can understand the fear that other people, with different values, might drive out our own, in time - after all, Britain has, historically, been very good at stripping away the cultures of countries we invaded, and, to some people, the increasing numbers of non-white faces, of people in the traditional dress of countries known only through the television and newspapers on British streets, may seem like an invasion - and we hold the genetic memory of how badly we behaved during our invading periods. How badly, in fact, we sometimes still behave.
Human beings - all human beings - have an inherent xenophobia, because we were all, at one point in our evolutionary history, tribal beings, with good reasons to be suspicious of those not of our particular tribe - resources, being limited to what could grow or be caught, limited by how far we could go on foot, were scarce, and tribes that crossed another's territory were usually on the lookout for a quick grab of that tribe's resources, to add to their own.
We haven't fully adapted to the reality of plenty; we see money, which can literally be created from thin air, social resources, such as housing, education, and healthcare, which, when used respectfully, honestly, and appropriately, will almost always be enabled to increase to match demand, and jobs, which are an eternally-renewing resource, as capitalism is constantly driven to expand current markets, seek new ones, and commodify things that were never previously "sold", as finite resources which will be "used up" if there are "too many" people. We forget that, unlike in tribal societies, not everyone in contemporary society will be using the same resources at the same time - some people will never have children, for example, so will never use the educational resources. Some people prefer to have private healthcare, so will not use the NHS resources. For every new person who comes into a country from elsewhere, several natives are dying.
In tribal times, we would regularly be engaged in physical battles with other tribes. We would be walking long distances, the work we did would be physically demanding. Perhaps the reason settled societies are so prone to sudden flares of violence is that we have too much energy, and not enough opportunity to use it in a satisfying way - no longer having to fight to defend genuinely limited resources, no longer regularly in actual fear for our lives, our energy builds and builds, until the body sends the brain temporarily insane, and we have to lash out at something, have to let that tribal voice within us have its say.
Muhammad Ali was at once one of the greatest boxers the world has ever known, and a committed pacifist - the prime example of how regular indulgence in acceptable violence better equips an individual for tolerance, peace, and intelligent understanding of their society, its issues, and their place within it.
What Unites Us, What Divides Us
Ashley Ford-McAllister. Photo courtesy of Dan Hans.
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Ashley Ford-McAllister is a writer and speaker from Lowestoft, Suffolk, where he lives with his wife and several pets. He enjoys walking, reading, and avoiding people, not always in that order.
