Daniel Hannan is the author of 'How we Invented Freedom' (published in the US and Canada as 'Inventing Freedom: how the English-Speaking Peoples Made the Modern World'). He speaks French and Spanish and loves Europe, but believes the EU is making its peoples poorer, less democratic and less free.
Fighting together for freedom since 1707
Britons have become somewhat diffident about their nationality. It wasn’t always so; well into the 1960s, British patriotism was seen as an unambiguously positive value, like honesty, generosity or courage. But throughout my lifetime – with the exception of ten heroic weeks in the late spring of 1982 – patriotism has tended to be expressed apologetically, contingently or (as during the Last Night of the Proms) jokily.
The rise of English and Scottish nationalism is, in some ways, a reaction to the way in which the UK’s intellectual elites have derided and traduced the brand. So, arguably, is the alienation of some of our second-generation immigrants. If you’re not proud of your official nationality, don’t be surprised when a number of your citizens grope around for alternative ones.
Why should we be proud to be British? Because no country has made such a contribution to the happiness of mankind. The idea of constitutional liberty, of freedom under the law guaranteed by parliamentary representation, is a British invention. Sure, there were premonitions on both sides of the border, and in other places, from mediaeval times. But constitutional government as we understand it today was forged in the civil conflicts of the seventeenth century. Those conflicts cut laterally across the two nations: English Cavaliers made common cause with Scottish Royalists, English Puritans with Scottish Presbyterians. The latter alliance was, thank God, triumphant and, in due course, parliamentary supremacy was formally established by the near-simultaneous ratification in 1689 of (in Scotland) the Claim of Right and (in England) the Bill of Rights.
A generation later, Acts of Union were passed and Britain began its ascent to greatness. Adam Smith observed that the dismantling of the frontier meant the end of standing armies, and thus the lifting of any residual threat of tyranny. Great Britain was now an island nation. Freed from their ancient quarrels, the kindred peoples turned their energies outward.
From that moment, Great Britain was, broadly speaking, on the right side of history. We ended the system of guilds and monopolies, allowing trade to benefit all classes. We waged a relentless and ultimately successful war against slavery – even diverting ships from the war against Napoleon to stamp out the disgusting traffic. We fought three-and-a-half wars to save Europe from falling under the dictatorship of a single power: the Napoleonic War, the First and Second World Wars and (the half) the Cold War.
In all these conflicts, Scottish soldiers served with particular heroism, the Highlanders who had been the last to accept British nationality becoming its fiercest champions. As Pitt boasted after Britain’s extraordinary victories over the French in the 1760s:
“I sought for merit wherever it was to be found; it is my boast that I was the first minister who looked for it and found it in the mountains of the North. I called it forth, and drew into your service a hardy and intrepid race of men, who, when left by your jealousy, became a prey to the artifice of your enemies, and had gone nigh to have overturned the State in the war before the last. These men in the last war were brought to combat on your side; they served with fidelity, as they fought with valour, and conquered for you in every part of the world.”
In almost every field of civilian life we find the same partnership: in philosophy, in science, in theatre, in industry. As Charles Moore pointed out a while ago, the current £50 note records the collaboration of Birmingham’s Matthew Boulton and Glasgow’s James Watt, who between them produced the steam engines that transformed the industry of the entire world. If you tear it in half, don’t expect each bit to be worth £25.
The relationship between Scotland and England is rather like that between Boswell and Johnson: under the teasing, there is affection based on a shared outlook. We share our vices and our virtues: we are stubborn, brave, morose, drunken, stoical, loyal, taciturn, sceptical, slow to anger but resolute when roused. We are laconic where others are panicky. I always think, in this context, of the Highland soldier who, observing the rout at Dunkirk, tells his sergeant: ‘If the English give in too, this could be a long war’.
The Union brings out the best in its component nations: tolerance, fair-play, indignation at injustice, love of freedom, respect for the law, calm in the face of misfortune.
Like every nation, we’ve had our shabbier moments, our failures, our hypocrisies. But, taking the bad along with the good, we can be as proud as any people on Earth. Do we really plan to toss it all away?
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