Watching the English

CAUSES

In our search for this understanding of Englishness, one question remains. If our unfortunate social dis-ease is indeed the central 'core' of Englishness, then we have to ask: what causes this dis-ease?

It is as though, throughout the book, I have been a sort of ethnological psychiatrist, examining a patient ('The English') who has 'presented with' a complex, apparently incoherent and unrelated set of odd behaviours, bizarre beliefs and strange, compulsive habits. After a long period of close observation and a lot of embarrassing questions, I can see the recurring patterns and themes, and eventually arrive at a diagnosis: the condition I am calling the English Social Dis-ease. It is not a severely debilitating disorder; the patient self-medicates quite effectively in various ways, has developed a range of coping mechanisms, manages to lead a relatively normal life and regards his/her behaviour as perfectly reasonable (often claiming that it is the rest of the world that is odd and out of step). But others find the patient weird and often rather tiresomely anti-social, if sometimes quite charming. Although I cannot provide a cure, my diagnosis may in itself be of some help, at least in understanding the condition and its management.

But the aetiology of this dis-ease still remains something of a mystery. As with many psychological disorders, no-one really knows what causes it. This is not for want of speculation on the subject. Although I believe this book is the first to identify the dis-ease properly - in the sense of giving a name to the odd collection of troubling symptoms that characterize the condition - I am certainly not the first to notice and comment on the symptoms themselves. Every attempt to describe our national character makes at least some mention of 'English reserve', and many also puzzle over its apparent opposite, English loutishness, hooliganism and other anti-social behaviours. My only contribution has been to suggest that these seemingly contradictory Jekyll-and-Hyde tendencies are part of the same syndrome (a bit like the manic and depressive elements of what is now called bi-polar disorder). This diagnosis may be helpful in understanding the English, but identifying and naming a disorder tells us nothing about its cause.

Several possible causes have been proposed by other writers. Many are inclined to blame the English climate. While our weather may indeed be a factor, I'm a bit sceptical about this explanation, as our climate is not really all that different from that of many other Northern European countries - not to mention Scotland, Ireland and Wales - whose inhabitants do not exhibit the same sociopathic tendencies. This does not rule out the weather as a cause (a lot of smokers do not get lung cancer), but it does suggest that there must be other factors involved.

A number of writers point the finger at our 'history', but there seems to be little consensus on what parts of English history might be responsible for our current dis-ease. We had and lost an empire - well, so did the Romans, the Austrians, the Portuguese and number of others, and they didn't all turn out like us. Some suggest that the tendencies I am concerned with are of relatively recent origin (the author of The English: Are They Human? blames public schools for the ludicrous excesses of English reserve, and the anthropologist Geoffrey Gorer traces certain aspects of our national character, particularly our self-restraint and orderliness, to the establishment of our Police force). Some even seem to believe that all of our loutish, anti-social traits began, along with sex, in 1963, and that things were different and people knew how to behave when they were a lad. Others, however, cite comments on both English reserve and English loutishness dating back to the seventeenth century, and I have already mentioned reports of medieval football violence. I am not a historian, but as far as I can gather from reading the accounts of those with the necessary knowledge, we would seem to have suffered from this social dis-ease for quite some time, perhaps in somewhat varying forms, and its onset or emergence cannot be attributed to any particular historical event or process.

So, if neither climate nor history can entirely account for our disease, what about geography? The fact that we are 'an island race' has occasionally been put forward as an explanation for some aspects of our national character - such as our insularity. While there may well be some truth in this, I do not think that inhabiting an island can in itself account for much - there are, after all, plenty of other island peoples with very different national characters, although we may have some traits in common. But if we get a bit more specific, and take into account the size of our island and the density of its population, then the geographical argument starts to look a bit more promising. This is not just an island, but a relatively small, very overcrowded island, and it is not too hard to see how such conditions might produce a reserved, inhibited, privacy-obsessed, territorial, socially wary, uneasy and sometimes obnoxiously anti-social people; a negative-politeness culture, whose courtesy is primarily concerned with the avoidance of intrusion and imposition; an acutely class-conscious culture, preoccupied with status and boundaries and demarcations; a society characterized by awkwardness, embarrassment, obliqueness, fear of intimacy/emotion/ fuss - veering between buttoned-up over-politeness and aggressive belligerence... Although we are in many ways very different, I have noted a number of important similarities between the English and the Japanese, and wondered whether the smallish-overcrowded-island factor might be significant.

But this crude geographical determinism is not really much more convincing than the climatic or historical arguments. If geography is so important in determining national character, why are the Danes so different from other Scandinavian nations? Why are the French and Germans so distinctively French and German, even when they live immediately either side of an arbitrary border. Ditto Alpine Swiss and Alpine Italians? And so on. No - geography may well play a part, but it clearly can't be the final answer. Maybe our dis-ease is due to our particular combination of climate, history and geography - which at least could be said to be unique.

I'm sorry, but I just don't think there is a simple answer. To be honest, I don't really know why the English are the way we are - and nor, if they are being honest, does anyone else. This does not invalidate my diagnosis: I can pronounce the English to be a bit autistic or agoraphobic (or bi-polar for that matter), or just socially challenged, without knowing the causes of these disorders. Psychiatrists do it all the time, so I don't see why self-appointed national ethno-shrinks should not have the same privilege. And you can challenge my diagnosis or offer a second opinion if you disagree.

But before I stop (or get sectioned for metaphor-abuse), I should just issue a health warning: Englishness can be rather contagious. Some people are more susceptible than others, but if you hang around us long enough, you may find yourself greeting every misfortune from a delayed train to an international disaster with 'Typical!', any hint of earnestness or pomposity with 'Oh, come off it!', and new people with embarrassed, stilted incompetence. You may find yourself believing that large quantities of alcohol will help you to shed these inhibitions, allowing you to greet people with 'Oi, what you looking at?' or 'Fancy a shag?' instead. You may, however, be one of the many more fortunate visitors and immigrants whose strong cultural immune systems protect them from our dis-ease. If you still want to fit in, or just have a laugh at our expense, I suppose this book might help you to fake the symptoms.

The important point, which I hope is now clear, is that Englishness is not a matter or birth, race, colour or creed: it is a mindset, an ethos, a behavioural 'grammar' - a set of unwritten codes that might seem enigmatic, but that anyone can decipher and apply, now that we have the key.

67. If I sound a bit reluctant and grudging about this, it is because I know that (a) people tend to expect rather a lot from diagrams, and may see them as an alternative to the effort of actually reading the book (I know this because I do it myself); and (b) it is much easier to spot flaws and failings in a simple diagram than in 400-odd pages of text, which makes them an easy target for cavillers and nit-pickers.