Politics could learn lessons from the National Eisteddfod
COLUMNIST
ONE of the greatest gifts Wales could export to the rest of the UK would be the idea of the National Eisteddfod.
There is no UK festival that is an exact equivalent to the Welsh celebration of arts, life and language – but one is needed.
Yes, there are plenty of big events which capture countrywide attention. The Glastonbury festival brings tens of thousands of people together in search of musical epiphanies; hordes of football fans would covet a ticket to the FA Cup final; horse-lovers toast fine specimens at Ascot; competition to take part in the London Marathon is intense; and many music-lovers dream of going to the Last Night of the Proms.
There are some people who would like to participate in all of these cultural extravaganzas, but each event caters for very specific tastes and desires. The Eisteddfod, in contrast, showcases and champions Welsh culture and language in a way that has strengthened the growing sense of nationhood.
This movable feast of experiences takes place in a different location each year, bringing its smorgasbord of events to radically different locations. It is an occasion in which people from differing political traditions and none can all feel a sense of belonging and pride.
The contrast with party political conferences could not be sharper.
At these occasions, when a speaker is stumped for a policy to flourish or a good gag, many try to squeeze applause out of an audience by vilifying an opponent (who will likely be doing the same thing at a similar venue).
There are rare moments when a speaker articulates an idea or an image which transcends political sectarianism, but the goal of most people behind the autocue seems to be to earn a snippet of airtime on the news that night, and it’s assumed that a display of tribal indignation is the best way to garner attention.
The irony is that people who get elected are usually fascinating and engaging individuals who care about the minutiae of their local communities but also get animated over the challenges facing our globe. They have put aside the option of a quiet life in favour of trying to change the world; there is a rock and roll energy to this audacity and idealism which can make a beautiful roar.
The UK needs a gathering point for socialists, free-marketeers, nationalists and other political species to get together and debate, feast and party in celebration of the common good.
The partisan battles can recommence when recess ends but over a few summer nights ideas should run wild.
When we look at problems such as solving the housing crisis, bringing prosperity to our hardest hit communities and providing affordable and dignified care for our older population, it’s clear that no one party will have a monopoly on solutions.
A multi-nation Eisteddfod that encouraged dialogue – and encouraged policymakers to keep going despite the vexing nature of the conundrums in front of them – would serve the country well.
That might not be everyone’s idea of a fun weekend away but there is just as great a need for a cultural fantasia which cuts across divides of class, ethnicity and income and brings together fans of different types of music, literature and art.
The Urdd Eisteddfod plays a unique role in celebrating public performance, instilling confidence and bringing young people from different parts of the country in one sparkling place. Similarly, the National Eisteddfod champions poetry not as an art form enjoyed only by an elite but as a vital part of our national life.
For culture to be inclusive and relevant it does not have to dumb down or abandon excellence, as numerous Eisteddfod participants demonstrate. Britain would be blessed if there was an equivalent opportunity for public artistry.
We had a taste of what that might look like in the amazing opening ceremony of the 2012 Olympic Games. We should not have to wait half a century for a similar experience.
Our country’s youth compete and perform in the likes of X-Factor and Britain’s Got Talent but in a cocktail of commercialism and hype in which striving for excellence, truth and beauty can be confused with the quest for fame.
Becoming famous and winning honour are very different, and the UK is in a state of permanent debate about the relevance of our honours system which carries the vestiges of empire. The Gorsedd offers a very different model of acknowledging contributions to a country’s life.
But perhaps one of the most beautiful aspects of the Eisteddfod is that it attracts around 150,000 visitors a year in an age when we are supposedly beholden to “niche” interests.
The days are long gone when the whole country would sit down each evening to watch a single television channel. Now, families sit staring at different screens consuming whatever takes their fancy on Netflix or iPlayer.
If your passion in life is making sandals out of dried halibut, you can probably find a Facebook group which caters for your interests. We are moving out of the era of the big tent into a culture in which people can curate every aspect of their own entertainment.
The Eisteddfod spirit is the antithesis of this. The notion is alive here of a festival that is open to everyone – a gathering where all will be glad they came.
The urgency of strengthening the Welsh language gives the National Eisteddfod a special energy. An attempt to create a similar gathering that brought together people from every corner of the UK would run the risk of becoming a gloopy celebration of everything and nothing.
But the people who kickstarted the modern Eisteddfod in 1861 took a risk and their imagination and commitment resulted in the creation of a centrepiece of our national life which champions values that can only enrich our common experience. It’s got to be worth a go.