There are little
corners of England, by-passed by major routes, where the progress of
civilisation is impeded by geography and it is possible to imagine that time
has stood still. One such place is Arnside & Silverdale, a chunky peninsula
to the west of the M6 just above Lancaster. Here I walked all day through a
landscape in which the traces of human habitation are fainter, lighter on the
ground than usual. It’s not absolute, of course: there is a railway line that
courses doggedly North-South following the coastline as close as it dares;
there are defunct smelting chimneys left over from earlier industrial
enterprises; farms double-up as holiday retreats and there is a large (but well
camouflaged) settlement of chalets nestled into a small bay. Still, on a
summer’s day in June, when the countryside is wearing its cloak of a thousand
shades of green spotted with flowers of every imaginable colour, it seems there
is no finer place to be than in England. How easily we are duped.
England is, in many
respects, a fine country, but so are many others and none can claim to be top
of the pile: there is not even a possibility of ranking them since we cannot
agree a common matrix of measurement. Objectivity is impossible as long as our minds
are fixed by feelings of patriotism or claims of ownership and our understanding
is limited by ignorance and fear of the other. This is why phrases such as
“putting the ‘great’ back into Britain”, or “making America great again” are so
ridiculous. It is also why you should go and see Michael Moore’s latest film, Where To Invade Next?
The film highlights some
key social policies in various European countries and compares them with
American practice: during its course I was provoked to laughter and tears but,
in the end, to outrage. If you see the film you might, like me, watch in
amazement as French primary schoolchildren sit down, every day, to a
three-course lunch prepared by a chef and served by waiting staff; envy the
Italian workers who go home for a two-hour lunch break and get eight weeks paid
leave; cheer the Slovenians who provide free university tuition for their
people – and anyone else who cares to enrol; applaud the Finns whose kids
attend school three hours a day, take no SATs and are the world’s best-educated
(they also have no private schools – rich and poor grow up together);
congratulate the Icelanders, the first to elect a female president and the only
ones to have prosecuted, convicted and jailed their bankers; admire the Germans
whose generous and sympathetic approach to mental healthcare is respectful and
wise; nod to the Norwegians who actively rehabilitate their prisoners; praise
the Portuguese who refuse to criminalise drug-users.
All right, there are
probably some aspects of life in all of these countries which are less than
satisfactory, but the common thread is their embrace of a basic principle –
nurturing citizens so that they in turn nurture each other: the wellbeing of society
is thereby addressed organically. The examples in the film highlight the fact
that the policies pursued in the USA are exactly the opposite. America puts individual gain above social
harmony and appears not to see the cause and effect. This should worry us all –
and it should particularly worry Brits, because Michael Moore saw no reason to
come to here.
I like being
English/British/European (though I prefer to think European/British/English) if
only because there are nations less fortunate that I might have been born into
– just ask any refugee. Better still, however, I like the notion, expressed by
Marguerite Yourcenar*, that “one’s true
birthplace is that wherein, for the first time, one looks intelligently upon
oneself.”
*Novelist, 1903-1987
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