Something Thoughtful

Nicholas Reid reflects in essay form on general matters and ideas related to literature, history, popular culture and the arts, or just life in general. You are free to agree or disagree with him.

REMEMBER ONLY THE GOOD BITS

            He is English. He says: “The problem is, children today don’t know history. Our history is being wiped out. Statues are being toppled. We are being told that there is nothing for us to be proud about in our past. They forget that we built the biggest empire the world has ever seen. They forget that we provided the model for the world’s democratic parliaments. They forget that we put down the slave trade. Remember William Wilberforce? They forget that we have a great military tradition. Didn’t we always wallop the French, the way the Black Prince at Crecy and  King Harry at Agincourt did? We’ve never really been defeated. We’ve never been successfully invaded since William the Conqueror. Think of the Spanish Armada. And what about our great literary culture? Has any other country produced somebody like Shakespeare? But they just don’t teach this any more. They want us to be ashamed of everything we’ve done.”

I am sorely tempted to challenge him for his use of “we”. All the things he refers to happened long before he and I were born, and neither he nor I nor any living Briton can take personal credit for any of them.  As for his use of “they”, I want to ask him who “they” are.

But I skip those ones and say: “I agree that history is not very well taught, and I agree that there were many good things achieved by England and the rest of Britain, and there are things to be proud of. The model of parliamentary democracy, for all its faults, is much to be admired. But is building the biggest empire the world ever saw really something to celebrate? Wasn’t it usually a case of grabbing land from peoples who did not have the modern technology to fight back? Sure, some fought back bravely – I’m sure you’ve heard of Isandlwana; maybe you’ve heard of Gate Pa – but building an empire like that was mainly a matter of applying superior force and firepower.”

He grumbles: “We were usually fighting the French and Spanish when we built our Empire”.

I say: “Not when Britain was taking over much of Africa, taking land from the tribes in Canada, dealing with Aborigines in Australia or Maori in New Zealand… or even Boers in South Africa. And do you really think this empire-building business was for the good of humanity? It was about taking resources from other peoples for Britain’s profit.”

He says: ‘Building empires was normal then. You’re criticising us for having the values of another time. Other European nations were building overseas empires too”

I say: “True. And I would criticise them in the same way. I’m sure empire-builders themselves saw what they did as worthy, even philanthropical, and judged things by the values of their time. But I am judging them now. And while I agree that William Wilberforce and others who put down the slave trade are worth celebrating, to make the story complete you have to admit that slave-trading was one of the mainstays of Britain’s economy for over 200 years. You have to remember that, too, when you look at your country’s history.”

“But we were never defeated or invaded,” he says, “and we always beat the French.”

“Really?” I say. “ Didn’t American colonists defeat Britain? And look at an honest list of all the battles fought in the Hundred Years War and you will notice two things. There were as many French victories as French defeats, and in the end it was the French victories that stacked up, like the most decisive battle of all, the Battle of Castillon…”

“Never heard of it,” he says.

“Well look it up,” I say. “It was the decisive victory that kicked the English out of mainland France and meant the French finally won the Hundred Years War. Banging on about Crecy and Agincourt is a bit like celebrating Germany’s early victories in the Second World War and ignoring the fact that Germany finally met ignominious defeat. As for always defeating the French – through all the following centuries, England rarely faced up against France on its own. Nine times out of ten, it was in coalition against France with other powers such as Russia, Prussia or the Austrian Empire. Even if you invoke Marlborough, Nelson and Wellington, you can’t saw ‘We’ always defeated the French unless you include all these powerful allies”

“You’re just anti-British”, he says.

“Not at all,” say I. “I’m just saying you can’t be selective and cherry-pick the bits of your country’s history that you admire. Besides, I’m sure there are idiots in France who celebrate Napoleion’s victory at Austerlitz and ignore his ultimate defeat. England isn’t unique in having some people with a skewed view of their national history. As for the Spanish Armada in 1588 – yes, it was a “glorious victory” for England, but remember it was the opening campaign in a longer war that dragged on for the next fourteen years, and when a peace treaty was finally devised, under King James I, it didn’t really give much advantage to either England or Spain. On top of that, remember that England’s Counter-Armada against Spain, in 1589, was also a flop.”

“But we’ve never been successfully invaded for nearly a thousand years”, he says.

“Maybe,” I say. “Perhaps it depends on which history book you consult. In 1688, the Dutch King William of Orange successfully invaded England with a Dutch army and overthrew the legitimate king with the help of English collaborators. I know that Whig historians gussied this up as the ‘Glorious Revolution’, but it was still a successful invasion by a foreign army.”

At this point he fumes and makes angry noises. The ‘Glorious Revolution’ is one of the mainstays of his world view. Finally he says:

“Why are you harping on about all these old things? Why don’t you look at the positives? We don’t do slave-trading now. It was finished nearly 200 years ago. Why should we now be blamed for ir?”

“Sure”, I say “and thank goodness and abolitionists for that. But if you give me a list of ‘old things’ from history that you admire, then to be honest you have to consider ‘old things’ that upset you. Otherwise you’re not really considering history. You’re inventing mythology.”

‘This isn’t mythology,” he says. “All the things I mentioned are historical fact.”

“No,” say I. “Some of the things you’ve mentioned  are not true, as I’ve already pointed out. And others, like your battles of Agincourt and Crecy, are historical facts taken out of context, so that they become a false narrative – a mythology.”

“But it’s our heritage!” he finally wails.

“Yes”, I say. “Heritage means what is passed on to you. What you inherit. I’m sure tales of famous victories and bold conquests have been handed on to many English people, like the tales and legends of any society. Heritage tells us much about how a society thinks, but it is not the same as history looked at honestly.”

He says “You haven’t mentioned our great cultural achievements and Shakespeare…”

“…which I greatly admire and in which, being English-speaking, I am deeply immersed”, I say. “But having a great cultural heritage is not unique to England….”

And there the conversation stalls. He is downcast. He is silent for a while. There is still something unresolved. I want to say that there’s plenty to like, admire and be proud of in England’s past and in its culture and there’s no reason English people should be ashamed any more than other people – but I think if I kept on I’d be flogging a dead horse.

Finally he says “Well I still think they don’t teach history well.”

“I agree”, say I. “I’ve met much sheer ignorance about history among schoolchild and older students. But the history that is taught has to be honest and balanced history, not myths and legends.”

“And what about pulling statues and monuments down?” he asks.

“Yes. I query that too. Maybe some statues deserve to go, but if they do go it should be the result of consultation with the whole community – not the action of a mob, most of whose members had never been offended by any statue until they were worked-up, suggestible and riotous.”

He shrugs. I shrug. The conversation ends.

WARNING [which will be needed only by the very gullible] : The above conversation is entirely fictitious. You can see this by the fact that I score all the winning points, with very little push-back from him. That’s how fictitious conversations are manfactured by journalists every day. Besides, in real life, if I spoke to somebody in such a superior and patronising way, I would quickly be smashed in the face… especially by the type of man who thinks that God is an Englishman. Writing this fictitious conversation was in part inspired by hearing people with one breath praising their country's glorious past, and then in the next saying "Why even think about those things from long ago?" when something reprehensible in their country's past was mentioned.