I love my country too much to be a nationalist
While embracing the positives of patriotism, George Orwell held narrow nationalism in utter contempt. His challenge to the ugly politics of identity was explored by Scottish Tory leader RUTH DAVIDSON in this brilliant, powerful and defiant speech
ON what we might now call the politics of identity, George Orwell wrote that two things – nationalism and patriotism – should not be confused. What, first, of patriotism? For Orwell, patriotism was devotion to a particular place ‘which one believes to be the best in the world but has no wish to force on other people’.
For me, patriotism is the acceptance that one might just as easily have come from Brazil as Britain.
But which, at the same time, recognises that – since we are here, in Britain, and since we all happened to be born on this particular set of rocky islands – let us celebrate it and feel pride in that fact. Let’s cheer Mo Farah to victory. But let’s make sure we stick around to watch Usain Bolt break another record, too.
As Orwell suggests, patriotism is worn lightly. It doesn’t impose itself. It doesn’t take itself too seriously. It is to want the UK to succeed in Eurovision. But to shrug when Bulgaria gives us nul points.
Patriotism celebrates plurality. To be patriotically British does not mean that we must oppose others. Indeed, patriotism celebrates difference and messiness. We can be proudly Scottish, Welsh, Bajan or Pakistani, at the same time as enjoying our Britishness. Patriotism does not force us to rank these identities in order, as if one or other has a higher claim.
I’m proud to be Scottish and British. I’m proud to be Scottish and British and to have campaigned for the UK to remain within the EU. I’m proud to be Scottish and British and female and gay and Christian and Conservative… and so on.
Patriotism simply says: Here’s great. Come on in, the water’s lovely. Patriotism is, in this respect, a positive thing; a thing that can be shared and joined, that does not set barriers, but celebrates our place in the world.
If that is patriotism, how should we define nationalism? It appears, at first glance, to be a synonym for patriotism. For Orwell, however, they were very different.
His definition of nationalism was the process of sinking of one’s individuality into a bigger unit: be that a country, or a political ideology or a religion.
He defined it as the assertion that this unit should be promoted above all else as inherently virtuous – and that that which was not this unit was without such virtue.
‘By nationalism,’ he wrote, ‘I mean first of all the habit of assuming that human beings can be classified like insects and that whole blocks of millions or tens of millions of people can be confidently labelled “good” or “bad”.
‘Nationalism is the habit of identifying oneself with a single nation or other unit, placing it beyond good and evil and recognising no other duty than that of advancing its interests.’
Orwell is describing nationalism as a form of what today we would call identity politics, of which he is clearly not a fan.
It is a state of mind where one ideology, one myth, must take precedence over all else and which demands people support one camp or another. And if you’re unwilling to make that decision, nationalists will be perfectly happy to make it for you.
Indeed, such a dividing up of the populace – treating them like insects to be speared onto a display board – takes the force of a moral imperative.
Orwell again: ‘As nearly as possible, no nationalist ever thinks, talks, or writes about anything except the superiority of his own power unit. It is difficult if not impossible for any nationalist to conceal his allegiance.’
In short, if patriotism is a celebration of the randomness of life, nationalism is the assertion that your place, your view, your belief demands pre-eminence.
They are, I’d suggest, not so much synonyms as near polar opposites.
Unfortunately when it comes to nationalism, Orwell has us all skewered, me included. Because very few of us, particularly those of us involved in politics, can really say we do not exhibit to some degree an element of these characteristics ourselves.
Politicians – by our very nature – divide into camps. Our camp, we declare, is where all wisdom, morality, energy and decency resides.
In our effort to make sense of the world, it is simply easier to draw the boundaries of our own identities with our rejection of the ‘other’.
And nationalism is a part of the Scottish psyche. But the challenge laid by Orwell is how we react.
Do we submit before this nationalist instinct and the ‘either/or’ dichotomy which it demands of us?
Or do we follow the path of patriotism – where our love of what is ours does not rely upon the ‘othering’ of what is not?
Whether it is due to the perceived failure of globalisation, or simply the aftershocks of the financial crash, we all know the nationalist impulse has strengthened once again in recent years.
Whether it’s Trump’s cri de coeur to ‘Make America great again’; Le Pen’s appropriation of ‘In the name of the people’, or the Austrian Freedom Party’s ‘For Austria with heart and soul’, each chose a presidential campaign slogan setting themselves up as the saviour of the nation, the people, the culture, the land.
Those not of the tribe became not serious people with differing ideas and policy platforms by which the country could advance, but were portrayed as opponents of progress, threats to nation or betrayers of people. The arguments were not fully examined and tested – the message carriers were simply othered, easier to undermine than to engage.
But what of nationalism on these shores?
NATIONALISM and identity politics have always been a strong current running through Scottish politics, and did not start with the current SNP.
In the 1980s and 1990s, it was Scottish Labour which carried the flag. Another Scot invited to give the Orwell Lecture – Robin Cook – declared that under a Conservative Party government ‘to all intents and purposes Scotland is an occupied country’. That sentiment helped lead to the birth of a devolved Scottish parliament in 1999.
And then the election of
the Scottish National Party to government in 2007 brought the question of full independence front and centre. In 2014, we held a referendum on independence – in which 55 per cent of the population decided to remain within the United Kingdom.
Rather than seeing the matter settled, we see the issue pushed back to the fore – with the SNP now calling for a second independence referendum.
So how do we apply Orwell’s lessons about nationalism and patriotism to us in Scotland?
The easy thing would be to suggest Scotland is divided between nationalists on the one hand; patriots on the other. To say that, on the one hand, there were 1.6million nationalists in 2014 who demanded we reject all else for their own ideology. And on the other, there were 2million patriots who, in voting No, chose the ‘right’ way.
But that would be to fall into exactly the nationalist trap Orwell warned about– where we falsely separate people into worthy and unworthy camps, where the virtue depends on where one resides.
The truth is far more complex. The nationalist instinct described by Orwell can be applied to all sides of the political divide in Scotland – including my own.
What’s more, I also believe that most people in Scotland, on both sides of the constitutional divide, were motivated in 2014 not by nationalism but by the patriotic impulse I’ve described above.
I did not agree with supporters of independence in 2014, and I still don’t. But I believe that the vast majority who supported independence did so because they believed it was the best thing for Scotland.
I will never condemn them for doing so – and I will stand up to any member of my political party who does so.
However, the truth is that the nationalist politics identified by Orwell – the attempt to classify and label human beings into groups marked ‘good’ and ‘bad’ – has become a key part of our political practice in Scotland. And it has to be said that this has been pursued quite deliberately.
Examining the nationalist mindset in 1945, Orwell hit upon three common trends. Firstly, obsession. No nationalist, wrote Orwell, ‘thinks, talks, or writes about anything except the superiority of his own power unit’.
He will, Orwell added, ‘show great sensitiveness about such things as the correct display of flags, relative size of headlines and the order in which different countries are named’.
Secondly, instability. The nationalist’s fervour remains constant, Orwell wrote – but the object of his or her obsession may change.
AND thirdly, indifference to reality. The nationalist won’t just defend negative matters affecting his own side, wrote Orwell, ‘he has a remarkable capacity for not even hearing about them’ in the first place.
For many of us in Scotland, it all sounds remarkably familiar.
Obsession – tick. We have not heard an awful lot else from the SNP in these last ten years apart from their quest for independence.
Sensitivity about the size of headlines – tick. I think no further than the Nationalist MP who claimed national injury and loudly condemned UK bias as it related to the size of Scotland on the BBC weather map.
Indifference to reality – please, don’t get me started.
And instability – fervour remaining constant, while the object changes.
When Nicola Sturgeon joined the SNP in 1986 she was attracted to a party whose policy was to withdraw from the European Community. She now claims leaving the EU is the reason Scotland needs to revisit independence. But as we heard since, she will not promise to take an independent Scotland straight back in.
And then there’s that point about ‘superiority’. It all rings very true.
Because, in Scotland, political nationalism has introduced the idea that only one side of the constitutional divide can be the authentic voice of ‘the people of Scotland’. As Billy Connolly said: ‘I love Scotland. But I hate the way nationalists think they own the place.’
Now, to repeat, I do not suggest that it is only the SNP which is guilty of this trend.
All political parties in Scotland and elsewhere in the UK have been at fault over time in claiming to have a monopoly on the national mood – as if there is one political party which can claim to represent the nation. But I would suggest that the modern SNP has made this technique its own.
The Prime Minister set out her opposition to a second referendum on independence. Responding, Alex Salmond declared that ‘no self-respecting Scot’ would accept a ‘Westminster Prime Minister … undermining Scottish nationhood’.
The implication being that to agree with the Prime Minister on this issue would be to somehow concede you were a lesser type of Scot.
Or, talking about the local council elections, Nicola Sturgeon said the following: ‘Labour let Scotland down by losing so many seats to the Tories.’
In other words, Labour hadn’t just failed to be attractive to the electorate, they had actually shamed the nation by allowing the hated Tories to win seats. Or, indeed, Scottish voters couldn’t vote for one of the main political parties without it being un-Scottish and someone else’s fault.
SNP Economy Secretary Keith Brown said of Brexit: ‘This debate comes down to Scotland versus the Tories and Scotland is going to win.’ A member of Government who had just seen more than half a million of his fellow countrymen and women vote Conservative at the Scottish election. Is that half million not Scotland too?
I’m Scottish. In fact I’ve never lived or worked outside of the nation of my birth. I cede to no man in backing blue with either oval or round ball. But apparently I have to choose between being Scottish or Conservative.
Because, according to Mr Brown, I can’t be both. And for me, so goes it for half a million more.
Again, the implication hangs in the air: those who are not orthodox, or do not follow the right way are foreign, we are alien, we are other. After the council results, one tabloid declared ‘They’re Back’ and that the Tories were now preparing to ‘invade’ Scotland once more.
Think of that. People putting themselves forward at election to gain the support of their neighbours in a democratic vote, because they want to serve the local communities in which they live. Now being referred to as some sort of invading force.
THIS technique has, for a long time, been effective. If people feel bullied and hectored into supporting SNP I don’t blame them. But the question hanging over us at this coming election is whether that is now about to change. I very much hope it will.
After ten years of SNP government, there is an undoubted sense people have had enough.
They include parents who have begun to notice that while these constitutional contortions have kept us all hugely occupied, their children’s education has been getting steadily worse.
And that, perhaps, is the greatest rebuke against nationalism. It’s that it doesn’t actually make the trains run on time. Only good governance will do that.
The difference between nationalism and patriotism isn’t a question of degree — Orwell is completely correct about that.
Nationalism is about power, and its obsessive pursuit, and the dichotomisation of a population into the authentic and the inauthentic.
‘Nationalism,’ Orwell wrote, ‘is power-hunger tempered by selfdeception’. Amen to that.
Yet, here in the second decade of the 21st century, despite his efforts, nationalism is still confused with patriotism.
That is because, too often, there are political movements that deliberately ensure that is the case, showing that we must remain vigilant against nationalism’s seductive simplicities – and always be ready to embrace the complex; the difficult; the other.
Like Albert Camus, I love my country too much to be a nationalist.
To Orwell, it is nationalism, not patriotism, that is the last refuge of the scoundrel. And like Orwell I say we should never confuse the two.
ABRIDGED from a speech delivered by Scottish Conservative & Unionist Party leader Ruth Davidson to the Orwell Foundation at University College, London, on Monday.