Musings

Identity and Allegiance

It feels good to be British. The island race sitting astride the sea lanes, free to weigh anchor and explore the globe. Free also to sail along ancient channels that still connect one-time dominions, colonies and alliances. America, Europe, even Australia, appear virtually equidistant geographically, and their political claims almost equally uncompelling.  Freedom to choose where to throw one's weight, not forever but strategically. London remains the centre of a world made up of peoples with an instinctive respect for the power and traditions in which they once shared; the multicoloured capital to which stream the peoples of former possessions, and in which parade the equally colourful remnants of a once superbly sovereign monarchy. Above all, the qualities of Englishness which encapsulate all the ancient values to be cherished, preserved and defended. As a nation unambitious for conquest or paramountcy, content to carry on its acknowledged moral leadership of the free world.

But, hang on. Englishness, despite its global dominion, was never inclusive. Like Whites or Boodles, its social doors remained closed to the outsider, however defined. Its values became an essential part of being British, yet devolution has already underlined the separateness of the two concepts. Moreover, even the English heartland itself is becoming irresistibly multiethnic. All this constitutes a challenge to redefine the meaning of Englishness which is posing no little difficulty. Cohabitation with conquered peoples requires only the self­ awareness that one is not one of them. However, as with ancient Rome, granting them the freedom to settle and share one's land can lead to a crisis of identity and to a potentially destructive questioning of tradition and institutions.

I write this at a moment when, following the verdict of the Referendum on membership of the European Union, the entire bond of the British people and their nation has been called into question: not by the result, but by what it suddenly revealed about the voters themselves. A people traditionally united in the face of national crisis has been shown as deeply divided by decades of apparent prosperity which failed to be inclusive. The sap of national unity, which made Britain one nation, has dried up, revealing a structure withered, fractured and splintered. The campaign itself, at times virulent but woefully uninformed on both sides, appeared played out in a vacuum.

The political irrelevance of 'Yes or No' votes was already encapsulated in the guidance given to juries by the 19th century Lord Chief Justice, the Earl of Mansfield, 'Consider what you think justice requires and decide accordingly. But never give your reasons; for your judgment will probably be right, but your reasons will certainly be wrong.' And so it turned out.

What is clear is that much of the Leave vote had little to do with the EU and a great deal with an almost forgotten rebellious 'Dunkirk spirit': 'Stronger alone' and 'Take back our Borders' had mighty echoes of 1940 when Britain stood alone, withdrawn into its island fortress. They proved to be the slogans which in the end were to turn the tide - on both occasions. During the war they also brought a period of national unity, until the danger had passed. Might the abortive election of 2017 produce a similarly powerful consensus on the perils of leaving a seriously weakened party as sole negotiator of our relations with the EU?

I can almost feel a kinship with many of those who responded to the call of proud nationalism, even if they were duped by demagogues trumpeting half-truths and outright lies which would have been roundly condemned and formally corrected in a normal election. I, too, had memories stirred, not from history books but from a long enough real-time life. And so I found my allegiance restored to this extraordinary country and its unpredictable impulses. May its long-tested ability for agreeable, almost casual compromise win through once more and keep its four nations compacted. One salutary lesson of the Referendum was that the ugly springs of xenophobia which generated so much force for the Leave campaign included a sizeable proportion of the first and second wave immigrants, Afro-Caribbean and South-Asian, who stoutly rose to defend their acquired home turf.

In the War years it was not difficult for that allegiance to be moulded. One shared threats and anxieties, victories and defeats on a daily - indeed nightly - basis. Hardly anyone remained proof against personal tragedy and loss. As an 'Enemy Alien' I felt vastly different from my previous categorisation as an 'Enemy of the State'. After a brief period of homesickness, I became absorbed in these struggles, both personal and national; and I felt guilt neither for having left Germany nor for not yet being formally British. Much of that had to do with the British themselves. It was usual for elderly ladies to strike up conversations with fellow bus passengers. With me, that usually took the form of the lady chatting away, whilst I nodded at points where it seemed appropriate. Then, inevitably, came the question, 'And where are you from?' When I would tell her, without hesitation came the unfazed and genuine reply, 'Well, as I always say, there's good and bad in every nation.' And we continued as good friends till one or the other had reached their stop.

The same tolerance was shown by the local police in Essex, for whom I proudly acted as 'Special Constable' (duties to report any suspicious lights or activity, and with the prime advantage of becoming the first enemy alien in the County with a permit to ride a bicycle}, retiring eventually with three chevrons! Later, when working in the civil engineering consultancy's design office in London's Victoria Street, I was favoured by the same camaraderie of strangers, fellow part-time fire wardens on nocturnal watch to identify potential fire bombs which might ignite.

ALLEGIANCE had become patent, to remain in perpetuity. But what of identity?

IDENTITY, however, is a living thing, woven of strands melding indistinguishably into each other. New strands can be added, become overlaid, but none subsequently subtracted. Sigmund Freud helpfully explored the processes of 'identification' and the choices at work to explain the eventual build-up of this tapestry. Mine isclearly the result of a greater than usual number of exposures to objects, persons and experiences which enabled such manifold choices to be cast.

One's first identity is the family and the home which, as has already been seen, embraced me with warmth, diligent care and protection -to which I responded until the physical bond came to be broken. By great good fortune, it was supplemented with a second home, which developed and exercised strong and parallel bonds. The emotional links of both remained deeply embedded, to form the principal strand of my identity. Recall of the family houses is a voluntary embellishment, but not fundamental to the bonds. Nor is nationality, long forgotten since swearing allegiance to His Majesty King George VI in 1948 through a gentle process called Naturalisation. (Unable to attest my presence in the world with a birth certificate, my Mother was required to file an affidavit; the question 'Reason for knowing?' she satisfied with 'Present at birth'.)

I have a deep and long-standing nostalgia for Prussia - not the soil, nor any historical moment or episode, but for its spirit. Prussia for me is a state of mind. It is free from the negative images which gained currency during the Great War, of monocled Junkers goosestepping over conquered peoples, along with any of the military cliches, not even Wellington's timely allies at Waterloo. For me, Prussia is identified by its very contradiction of these stereotypes, its liberalism, its celebration of daily victories over poor lands, and its embrace of culture; Frederick the Great, accomplished musician, friend and host to Voltaire, and successful architect.

Like Plato's Republic, Prussia represents the beginnings of the enlightened state: One of the earliest examples of compulsory school attendance, free craft and trade schools, and a well developed welfare state, all going back to the beginning of the 18th Century. A welcome for religious refugees from Bohemia and the offer of settlements in which to continue their weaver's trade. A state run for and with the consent of its citizens, infused with the 'Prussian ethos' of loyalty, modesty, thrift, self-discipline and tolerance - virtues which became enshrined in a system of government that successfully stemmed corruption. Remarkably, as Prussia expanded, this moral authority would be extended throughout two-thirds of German territory.

This is by no means a panegyric of all things Prussian, of which there are plenty that were reprehensible, even in its famed statecraft. Mine is no more than an empathy with those civil ideals which infused its society for more than two centuries and saw them flower. I can give no clearer insignia of that seductive simplicity than a common vegetable. In the regal splendour of Frederick ll's Sanssouci Palace, with its rich rococo embellishments, the formal dining room boasts a floor of glorious tiles, traditionally decorated with costly exotic delicacies, but this time with the newly imported plant which had finally brought his Kingdom security from hunger - the humble potato.

This tenuous precept proved a good preparation for my slowly maturing interest in public affairs and respect for British governance and institutions. Many profound statements have been made in praise of British democracy and the fairness of its administration. Yet the one that is most pungent is also the shortest, and it comes from an Englishman well known for putting it severely to the test. 'The Government of England is a government of Law,' said Junius, as if to state a self-evident fact. In that phrase is contained the essence of what it is to be British and to live under Her Britannic Majesty and her Parliament. As did countless poets and men of simpler emotions, there is no better or more desirable place with which proudly to profess one's identity.

It is a gentle irony that, having served Queen and Country, as well as the Empire and its successors for well on half a century, the MBEs bestowed on us by her in 2014 should have been for our musical activities with the Keyboard Charitable Trust. A nice acknowledgement, however, that the power of music excels that of words or deeds.

There may also be other and more delicate perceptions of identity. At the end of our Mews stands a not unsightly black-liveried wheely-bin provided by a kindly Westminster Council for our household refuse. One frosty winter's morning smoke began to issue from it. The surprising source was found to be a young gentleman, approximately in his late twenties, reasonably well dressed - if now somewhat dishevelled - who appeared to have taken up residence there and was topping up his breakfast with a luxurious cigarette. We saw no particular reason to eject him from his lodging into the raw open air-especially as we noticed that the bin was inscribed with the legend 'For Residential Use Only'. We provided him with an old blanket, a hot drink and biscuits and warned the neighbours not to tip their rubbish on top of him.

From brief exchanges, we learned that he was from Dortmund, his parents had lived at some time nearby and he had gone to school in the area. For reasons which were unclear, he had recently left Germany for the second time and was now trying to identify his old school and his parents' house. For the moment, it seemed he had set up his headquarters in a sound location. One was happy to see that he was treated with respect and consideration by everyone who visited his residence - even a local journalist who wrote an article about this strange returnee. Happily by that time we had alerted Shelter and they were eventually able to entice him away to more appropriate accommodation.

In the age of migrants and displaced persons, it was a valuable reminder that sometimes it may be not war or politics that causes the displacement but the mind; and identity may serve as the final beacon, however distant or confused.

Prussia - A State of Mind

Whose Homeland, Whose Security?

There is little that Europeans believe they cannot tell you about America. To most ofus it is as immediate as any of our neighbours in the European Union. As a child in Germany, well before the epics of Homer and Ulysses, I grew up with the tales of Karl May, relating in bloodcurdling detail the effective guerrilla war with the Indians. Growing up in England, Mark Twain and Hollywood insights into small-town America furthered the feeling of knowing, closeness and familiarity. Later, working alongside giants like Jack Javits and members of subsequent Administrations, revealed the pulse of American politics: its benign intentions and the rough and tumble of converting them into practice.

My sense of what it means to be American is continually refreshed by my Romanian-born son-in-law, lately become a US citizen. Through his eyes I see the lost tribes of Europe, the aspirant Hispanics, the waves of Asiatics seeking first security and a livelihood, then becoming proud to be part of the great American amalgam. They build new lives within the massive circumscription of a quarter ofa billion other Americans,join the world's biggest economy through its buy-now-pay-later system, and support the candidate who guarantees that their new-found freedoms will not be jeopardised.

Nor is that experience unique. Two post-war generations of Europeans have looked to America for business, for co-operation, for markets, for progress in science and technology. They see America's economy as a weather-vane, its society as dynamic and evolutionary, its political systems - however cumbersome - as democratically responsive. Not a few Europeans regard its governance as an exemplar for their own union of states.

Why then are Atlantic relations at an apparently all-time low? All these insights, all the amity on both sides have not prevented a profound political estrangement. More importantly, over half a century of common defence and security have become imperilled just at the point when events are once again demanding a common resolve. The Afghan campaign, the 'war against terror' and its presumed extensions, and the zest for refashioning states by way of 'regime change' and 'nation building' have turned the bracing Atlantic air blue with recrimination. Fears about vulnerability, about who should have known what and when, or failed to spend on intelligence or defence, make the climate more acerbic. And in the background is heard the distant thunder of real suicide bombers and Israeli tanks.

The received wisdom is that there is a deep rift between Americans and Europeans, that the Atlantic is getting wider, that there are serious divergences on how to govern a world seen as becoming increasingly hostile and complex. There is already enough comment traded to make it unnecessary - especially as a European - to join in that debate; but if predictions of an Iraqi campaign next January or even earlier prove correct, now - at a point of relative calm - is a golden moment to examine the underlying cultures and attitudes, before inevitably they become inflamed once more. Perhaps that may prepare us to enter the rough seas to come with a shade more comprehension, a touch less negative criticism and a recognition of common ends which are usually ill served by demands for an assent which goes against some partner's fundamental grain.

Where Did We Start?

So why do we bond with Americans but have come heartily to dislike their foreign policy? It is a question which runs deeper than the colour of Congress or the majority in the Senate. As Tip O'Neill famously observed, 'All politics is local politics.' Thus the policies espoused by the Administration are inevitably a reflection of voter concern, be it real or imputed. It is in Oklahoma or Oregon that one should first look for enlightenment, rather than in DC. How then does the American citizen view the world?

As in most other countries, only a minority has any first-hand knowledge of the outside world. In America's vastness, the problem is compounded by the wealth of more immediately relevant news, of comment on a correspondingly wider palette of national concerns. Specialist knowledge of world affairs may therefore be even more rare among Americans than among Europeans. However, what moves people is rarely the result of informed debate. They have instinctive - even atavistic - reactions to events which are quick to surface and slow to change. And it may be instructive to examine why these instincts differ as between Americans and Europeans and what effects that may entrain.

Europeans have developed their responses over more than two millennia of hostilities with their immediate neighbours. Ever since the disintegration of the pa.x romana, they have sought to build security systems to contain the threats against them. From the Peace of Westphalia in 1648, as increasingly major wars and their settlement succeeded one another, each time they tried to establish a new security order in the moments of sanity and realism following mortal combat. Having finally succeeded - with crucial American help in blood and specie- in routing the last of the peace-breakers, they have over the last half­ century consolidated a lasting form of community. Instead of garnering their sovereignty to defend their national interests, they are pooling it in more and more fundamental ways. Even defence, the ultimate preserve of statehood, has begun to be organised in common.

The result is that Europeans have come to see the virtues of multilateralism, of building institutions and exercising through them a power far greater than that which they cede to them. People no longer think in terms of national absolutes, but rather of defending their interests through instruments of persuasion instead of coercion. Negotiation, compromise, accommodating the interests of others have been the lessons learnt from centuries of conflict. The 'community method' of the European Union itself has become the model for a European concept of world order. That the EU has acted as a magnet for bringing together many former enemies, not only at its core but also on its eastern periphery, has shown its potential for building an ever wider and more secure 'zone of peace'. The drawing of recalcitrant states into a framework of democracy and co-operation is patently a powerful formula for consolidating peace and prosperity.

Americans share little of this experience. Their homeland is vast, their neighbours few and uninclined to pose a military threat. Not since Britain burnt down the Congress and Japan ravaged Pearl Harbour had there been an attack on American soil. Its citizens have lived in peace and commerce, untroubled by invasion, pestilence or war upon their territory. Monroe doctrines and similar stake-outs kept their enemies at bay. The National Guard and local militias remained as symbols of domestic order and security, proof that Indians and other marauders would be swiftly dealt with. So has their pride even in a no longer quite so young nation: the US is one of the relatively few countries where the phenomenon of patriotism is still vigorous. The concept of' our country' is fiercely supported, not least by immigrant populations happy to shelter under a new identity.

Americans have no greater inclination for war than Europeans. Indeed, imperial temptations in the Pacific and China Seas - notably the Philippines - apart, America has traditionally been reluctant to become militarily involved elsewhere. From the Barbary Pirates to successive European wars, it has done so only where it saw its vital interests threatened. As those interests have expanded, notably through trade and increasing dependence on imported energy, so have American watchfulness and the boundaries of the world in which those interests need to be protected. The concepts of 'managing change' and of 'global governance' are regarded as a challenge for the demonstration and exercise of American supremacy. 'Globalisation' has now removed all territorial limits: economically to the penetration of trade and commercial interests, politically to the projection of US power in whose shadow they can flourish.

It is these factors which have created the backdrop to the drama currently being played out across the Atlantic: on the one hand, a Europe which has turned its back on the futility of war, renascent in a new paradigm which encapsulates both its old dreams and its new flagship for widening the peace; on the other, an American megapower with a strong belief in its global responsibilities and the exercise of its might to discharge them. Where Europeans have learnt painfully that vendettas inevitably lead to a prolongation of feuds, Americans believe that to leave transgressors unpunished will appease and encourage them to fresh assaults. One side accuses the other of weakness and unreliability, the other replies with charges of global expansionism and igniting punitive wars.

A New Era of Western Security

Europeans believe that the era of mega-wars lies in the past. Not that the world is free of conflict, but the smoke of current battles tends to mask the fact that none of them any longer imperils the West's survival. Headlines have a standard size; what lies behind them does not. The last half-century has seen the 'zone of peace' steadily enlarged and still growing apace, even in the wake of the wars of'ideological decolonisation'. Not only have former combatants been pacified; dictatorships in Europe, Africa and Latin America

have fallen, interdependence asserted its claims but, most significant of all, the world's political map has been completely redrawn. The European Union, Atlantic partnership, economic and political communities elsewhere have created zones of peace and co­ operation across the continents.

Small wonder that Europeans believe in the consolidation of those gains through multilateral institutions. For them, negotiation and compromise have proved themselves as the most effective tools of international concourse. Upholding the principles of international legality, the steady creation of precedents, and the use of minimum force to ensure compliance are their chosen means towards a progressive expansion of those gains.

American foreign policy on the other hand has become more ambivalent. Following the end of the Cold War it moved in two somewhat contradictory directions. On the one hand, it too espoused multilateralism and the promotion of democracy; on the other, in line with the growth of its supremacy, policy and decision making became increasingly unilateral.

Now the latter trend has clearly asserted itself at the expense of the former. Only momentarily, in the wake of 9/11, was there a resurgence of multilateralism in terms of alliance-building. As Ikenberry and Inoguchi have argued, such policies are an expression of American national character: 'a commitment to the exportability of US institutions, a pragmatic belief in the solubility of the world's problems, as well as a faith in technology, private property and limited government.'

American and European actions are motivated by similar principles, but differing perceptions influence their choices. Many of the successes which fuel the 'European method' have made little impact on the American consciousness. Among the more recent are the armistices marking the end of decades of war in Angola, Sri Lanka and Sudan; peacemaking operations in East Timar and Sierra Leone; and earlier, the pacification of Mozambique and other destabilised states along the borders of a rehabilitated South Africa. Notable and largely unobserved among those effects was the latter's dismantling of its clandestine nuclear capacity. Most of these operations proved more decisive than those which commanded so much attention in the Balkans. Admittedly, the jury is still out on Iran, Iraq and North Korea, as it is on other disturbed areas in Algeria, Kashmir, Nepal

and Colombia. The former have, of course, almost all been political operations - if backed by hard assets - and therefore fundamentally different from the classic military operations of the Gulf campaign and Afghanistan. However, they also explain why Europeans believe that similar political means are the only solution for the Middle East, and that the injection of weapons on either side is likely to prove counterproductive, in default of appropriate political suasions.

The Paradox of Power

One of the insidious aspects of power is the effect of its mere presence as distinct from its exercise. Power is as much a mechanical and psychological system as a political one. Even though it acts upon human beings, and thus the body politic, it also mimics the laws of physics, and in particular Newton's third law that action and reaction are equal and opposite. Thus each action will have its consequences, even though these may well be perverse in political terms. Yet even before that, the existence of any power system wi II bear upon its surroundings; and its proximity can oppress to the point of explosion. These physical phenomena are equally valid in international affairs. A superpower is not detached from the political landscape in which it exists; and the actions of those around it are inevitably influenced by its perceived presence.

Recognition of this phenomenon is considered vital for America's interests. It can mean the propagation, not necessarily of enemies, but of antagonisms which can result in hostile positions. The same fate was suffered by the British in the days of their world dominion, as by any other hegemon in history. Far from carrying the 'war on terror' into 60 countries, it will first demand a compensating hearts-and-minds campaign. A key feature of that must be to show that that 'war' is not solely in the American interest, and that the means for prosecuting it are in accordance with international law. 'Tough on terrorism' must be accompanied by 'Tough on the causes of terrorism'. It is debatable whether cumulative response aggravation - attacking states to punish individuals - will achieve these aims.

The modem state, like the multinational corporation, has global stakeholders; its existence depends upon the way it interacts with them. In the international arena it is but one part of a Siamese twin, with whom it has to live, breathe and accommodate itself.

The might and sheer superiority of the US will always tend towards a fundamentally different result. Aside from 'Can do, will do', the American ethos is in Old Testament mode: to oppose challengers, wreak vengeance and smite its enemies. Europeans reckon they have seen most of it before, have learnt to live with insecurity and to seek softer, more patient solutions, as in the protracted tugs-of-war in Northern Ireland and with the Basque ETA. They have also come to recognise that there are problems for which no solution exists. That difference between 'hard' and 'soft' power is likely to colour transatlantic relations well beyond the foreseeable future. As the likelihood of major wars recedes and intra-state conflicts proliferate, the skills of conflict prevention and management and the arts of civil reconstruction rather than the bark of guns will be required. Shrinking defence budgets will come to be compared with swelling 'soft' expenditures for the purchase ofreal security. Even an Israeli, Martin van Crefeld, has dared to question the received wisdom of his country's fight for survival, '[The Israeli Army] is really very impressive. But it cannot cope with any more than a few hundred terrorists. The problem is that we have no targets to hit: 99 per cent of everything we have is irrelevant .... No conventional army has decisively defeated a guerrilla force in the past 60 years.'

Such is not the counsel of weakness, let alone cowardice. That is proved by the readiness of Britain to put its forces in the field alongside Americans in Afghanistan and Iraq; and by France, Germany and Italy exposing theirs in lending support. Also, perhaps more controversially for some, by the European Security and Defence Policy which will see a rapid reaction force of some 60,000 readied to deal with peacekeeping and other emergency operations.

A Wider Concept of Security ....

The events of 9/11 showed clearly the dangers that lie in wait, by demonstrating the new and unconventional challenges to our security. Security is fragile unless we prepare to

meet not only those we recognise but also seek to avert those likely to emerge tomorrow. The nineteenth Century began to act against poverty in our own homelands because it bred crime. For similar reasons, the twentieth sought to remedy alienation and social exclusion. The twenty-first is now called upon to transpose those actions onto the international scene. All of them form an integral part of the 'war on terror'. One may pursue it by ousting the Taleban and installing democracy in Afghanistan; or by promoting international development and enforcing respect for human rights. The fact is that, ifwe wish to live in peace in our global village, social justice is as vital as policing.

Unconventional threats require unconventional responses. Asymmetrical attacks cannot be met by old-style warfare. America's fearsome might may be invincible in battle, but its righteous objectives can still be defeated by the acutely remembered 'hearts and minds of men'. European insistence on this dimension of the 'war on terror' may be an irritant, but it is certainly not whingeing.

. . . . and of a Wider Homeland

Many of these arguments would be viewed with less disdain if they were uttered by a domestic opposition (as indeed they not infrequently are). Undoubtedly they constitute the kind of criticism which is uninvited by a superpower. Accustomed to command, anxious to free itself from multilateral encumbrances, advice from a rabble of small powers, usually unable even to agree among themselves, is a constant irritant. What is wrong above all, however, is that these voices come from outside the United States.

And here lies the ultimate nub. The United States has so separated itself from the rest of the world, even from its closest allies, that it no longer appears to believe in common security. What, we might ask ourselves, ifwe were to return to the year1949, to the creation of NATO in response to an overwhelming common threat? In facing up to that, there would be little of the current bickering and hostility. In other words, what is absent is the one-time recognition of a common security space for the protection of the West as a whole. How can one speak of the kind of threat which the President invokes in the 'war on terror' and not see it as a global challenge?

What then is homeland security? Where lies the homeland? Is it not, at the very least, the western world as such? The atrocities perpetrated on the American homeland should not be allowed to become a particular: every sentient world leader acknowledged at the very moment that they were an attack not only on America but on the civilised world. 9/11 was a jolting reminder that the transatlantic relationship exists not at will but is an inescapable fundament of our society. Something of immense value is being lost by making it America's war, rather than the defence of the common homeland of civilised societies.

Many things would become clear and simple, once we thought of such a common homeland as a common security space. Not only could attitudes change to allow constructive argument; much more importantly, the contribution which each component of that space is already making to the overall security could be reckoned by a different yardstick than the duplication of purely military expenditures. The purchase of security has a myriad costs, many of which Europeans are already bearing disproportionately- as in the integration of up to 15 new European members, the association and support of some 80 more overseas, and ofreaching out to most of the poorer countries where security is often most endangued. A common security space would honour the specialised, particular and irreplaceable contribution which each member is able to make towards a true homeland security.

The American psyche, with its belief in the intrinsic right to defend oneself, is more resolute in its self-preservation and arrives more quickly at the point of reaching for its gun. Yet it was an American President, Thomas Jefferson, who said, 'I hope our wisdom will grow with our power, and teach us that the less we use our power, the greater it will be.' Europeans know that that power is also their ultimate guarantor. They will continue to stand alongside America - but above all with Jefferson.