I learned the Queen was gravely ill while travelling on a train in Germany. It was several hours before the official announcement of her death; at this point, doctors were “concerned” for her health. But the image of a BBC newsreader in black tie and jacket gave the game away. This was the moment that the national broadcaster had been nervously rehearsing for decades. Strict protocols were in place to ensure no embarrassments. If the BBC had gone to black tie, I thought, Her Majesty must have already passed.
By the time I reached my gig that evening, the announcement had been made. I sat up late into the night, watching reactions to the news on TV. Flying home the next day, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would people be sombre or shocked? Flags flew at half-mast, but Heathrow was as bustling as ever and, driving home to Dorset, things looked pretty much as they always did.
Stopping for coffee at Winchester services on the M3, I got my first taste of the mood that would come to dominate the following days. Either side of the entrance to the food hall, the video billboards that usually advertised the delights available within now showed a portrait of the Queen, alternating with her royal cypher and her dates, 1926-2022. I took a photo and sent it to my brother-in-law. I found it hard not to see it as a crass attempt by advertising companies to jump on the bandwagon of national grieving. As I drove on into the night, a long-planned campaign was being put into action, its aim to ensure that we all participated in mourning the loss of the Queen.
What to make of patriotism? To paraphrase Martin Luther King, the arc of history is long, but it bends towards inclusivity. It’s why corporations believe they can reach a younger demographic by commissioning ads that celebrate diversity, why the National Trust seeks to highlight the connection between slavery and stately homes, and why there is a plus sign at the end of LGBTQ.
Patriotism chafes against this trend. Resistant to change, reliant on conformity, it takes pride in immutable symbols and institutions, such as the flag and the armed forces, and prizes assimilation over diversity. While inclusivity presents as an invitation, patriotism is at best an expectation and at worst a demand. Are you with us or against us?
I found it hard to disentangle the period of official solemnity from the politics of this country over the past decade. This was a time when those who seemed determined to offend were elevated to the highest offices in the land, using dog-whistles to stir up division. Attempts to have a deeper understanding of our colonial past were met with outrage and reaction. Millions were put through privation and economic hardship. The flag was waved by our politicians more and more, making it mean less and less. Britain became ever more inhospitable to those who choose to make their homes here.
The two dark sentinels standing guard at Winchester on that September night seemed to silently insist that, before entering, we bow our heads in respect of a version of our national story – but who decides on that story? And where is it going?
For those on the outside looking in, it will take more than the coronation of a new king to bring the country together. In order to feel that they belong, people need to see themselves as part of the national narrative and feel that their experiences are being treated with respect. That is simply not achievable at a time when politics rewards those bent on exclusion.
Billy Bragg is a singer-songwriter and activist
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