The "Englishness."

I realize before I can truly begin to pinpoint a nation, a civilization, a society, and millions of people based on a mere half-year experience, I should explain that I’m not the first to fall into the trap of attempting to define the indefinable, name the unnamed, determine the all-encompassing idea of “Englishness.” There exists on this tiny island the constant desire and need to define a people and discover what it means to be English. I had to take an entire class on it, in fact, entitled, “Issues in Contemporary British Politics and Culture,” which turned into a 12-week lecture series essentially on what makes anyone living in England actually “English.” The conclusions we arrived at were a riot, I assure you. I’ll enumerate them later.

First of all, before we can jump into the riot van, we need to address the vital distinction between being British and being English. This distinction, if miscommunicated, could result in numerous pub brawls involving shards of glass and delirious tears. Simply, all English people are British, but not all British people are English. In fact, I don’t think I met anyone in the UK who ever called themselves British. The term seems reserved for things, or the intangible. I once spoke to an Englishman that expressed his hated of the “British” nationality on his passport: “’British’? I don’t even know what that is. I don’t feel British. I don’t identify with that. I’m English.” It’s like being called a “North American”; I have no clue what it means to be North American (other than the fact that it’s winter here when it’s summer in South America and vice versa), but I do know the concept of being “American,” or being from the United States. 

 

Historically speaking, somewhere way back when Beowulf was still being penned, Saxons and Normans and Vikings and other Scandinavian fools stumbled upon an island in the northern Atlantic and pitched a few tents, calling it home. Naturally, subsets emerged and suddenly people who call themselves “English” start kicking all these other folks around and taking their land and all that good stuff. Before long, we’ve got the English, Scottish, Irish (off on their own island), and a pack of awkward Welshmen wandering on their own respective lands. (Alright, a rough sketch, but the idea is there.) Clearly this soup of “ish” people is a recipe for disaster. With such an indefinite beginning, could they ever dream of a solid identity? It would seem that the relatively recent history has proved that the English found an identity somewhere between Henry VIII and Shakespeare, Queen Victoria and Coldplay, but doubt still lingers. What is an English person? Are they a product of this mish-moshed history? Are they forever plagued with memories of inflicting imperialism, but writing beautiful poetry in the process?

There's no doubt that the desire to spread "Englishness" and "Britishness" is everywhere, whether through the commercialization of history, or out-right self-promotion. Case in point:

 

When foreigners or outsiders appear, it’s clear the English amp-up their Britishness with an extra “bloody hell” or “oi, chap!” or “c’mon, mate” thrown into conversation for emphasis, but why? Pride? Why is it that every British male owns at least one pair of boxers featuring the Union Jack?! (Don’t ask how I obtained this information…) It seems that “Englishness” or “Britishness” really means nothing, but we all end up believing in the power of the words themselves. The professor of the aforementioned lecture class on “Englishness” proudly enumerated all the aspects of a truly “English” person, much to my own amusement; I couldn’t not share these gems:

What Defines “Englishness:”

1.      Competence in fighting wars

2.      Devotion to pragmatism and tolerance

3.      Difference from the French

4.      Dedication to fair play and the underdog

5.      Modesty

6.      Possession of common sense

7.      Reservation partnered with ruthlessness

8.      Creativity

9.      Valuable sense of humor

10.  Specialness

 Let’s ignore the obvious fact that each of these so-called unique qualities could be placed on any human being ever, or the fact that several of these qualities contradicts the other, and acknowledge what is being said here.

1.      My professor actually tried to justify this supposed “competence in wars” by playing a clip of Kenneth Branagh reciting the famous “We few, we happy few…” Henry V speech and somehow that justified it. I think I was too starry-eyed from Ken to cite a very particular war in which the English and their bright, red coats were less than competent in…

2.      The tolerance classification is laughable, so I’ll pass. I can almost buy into this idea of pragmatism and practicality that echoes the ever-English mantra of Don’t fix what isn’t broken, but mostly due to the ineffectiveness of English crosswalk signs. (Years back, I’m sure each and every crosswalk sign in London was perfectly timed in having people walk and wait at the respective time, but in 2011, not a single crosswalk signal ever changed at the correct moment. I was almost hit by many a double-decker bus.)

3.      You actually think you can define yourself by saying what you’re not? Snaps for a real identity.

4.      Fair play is interesting in itself, as it implies that every game or situation could be fair, but what more concerns me is the underdog bit. If the English are so great at wars, could that even make them the underdog? Or were they secretly rooting for the other team the whole time?

5.      I’m so special because of all these reasons, but let me tell you how modest I am…

6.      Forget that this implies that other people don’t have common sense, or that common sense even exists. I think the more accurate quality is rationality, which reflects the mere desire to classify Englishness in the first place. I’m tempted to say this stems back to all those Enlightenment thinkers who’ve made the undergrad experience a wild ride. (Shout-out to Locke, Descartes, and Hobbes for keeping it real.)

7.      This quality is literally a backwards way of saying that the English are passive aggressive. I wouldn’t dare disagree with that.

8.      One word: Shakespeare. Can’t disagree.

9.      The unique sense of humor is pretty evident in numerous Monty Python skits, as well as that cringe-worthy performance of Ricky Gervais “taking the piss” out of every American actor at the Academy Awards to much dismay.

10.   The English are unique because they’re special? Begging the question? Anyone? Bueller? Next.

So, what does this list even mean? Where does it leave us? Have we bought into the desire to classify? After late-night interactions that are simply, inherently, and no-pun-intend-ly foreign, it seems that everything and nothing can define a nation. Yeah, the English really like to read, drink tea, watch soccer football, and boy, they’d rather write you a very passionate letter about Mr. So-And-So than simply tell you to your face, but does that define a people? Could I merely cop-out myself and admit that the desire to determine “Englishness” is what makes a person “English”? I don’t know. What is it about the English that is so intriguing? An embracing of “The Other,” the rebellious American teenager ready to go back to Mom-And-Pop England? The indefinability itself? I’ll let myself mull that over as I fall into Kenny’s eyes one more time: