The hidden rules of Englishness
Don’t boast. Don’t whine. Don’t try too hard. And for goodness' sake, don’t look like you care about winning
That The New York Times is one of the world’s great newspapers scarcely needs saying. From its publication of the Pentagon Papers — which documented the ultimately doomed involvement of the United States in Vietnam and revealed that the Lyndon Johnson administration had “systematically lied” about it — to its reporting on the Bush administration’s secret warrantless wiretapping program and its investigations into the Islamic State’s codification of sex slavery in Iraq and Syria — the paper has consistently demonstrated the power and purpose of fearless journalism.
But if you wanted to understand what life is like in Britain, you might occasionally come away a little confused. The Times stands accused of portraying the UK as an archaic, even racist backwater where the locals spend their free time cavorting in swamps, either before or after chomping down on boiled mutton.
This is, by the way, not even in the same parish council as the greatest ever Times correction, which lives both rent-free in my head and in perpetuity at the end of an article entitled, “Cracking the Code in ‘Heeere’s Johnny!’”
Nevertheless, for one evening in the summer of 2012, the paper saw through us. In its review of the London Olympics opening ceremony, the newspaper’s chief television critic, Alessandra Stanley, observed:
It’s hard to imagine any other nation willing to make so much fun of itself on a global stage, in front of as many as a billion viewers. It takes nerve to look silly.
Then, the writer went for the jugular:
Britain offered a display of humor and humbleness that can only stem from a deep-rooted sense of superiority.
How you play the game
It is difficult to say whether the English1 are ‘good’ winners, because we experience it with such infrequency that one has to sometimes be reminded that victory is not merely a theoretical possibility. But we are reasonably good losers. Three Lions, the unofficial anthem of Euro 96 and many a subsequent wedding, bar mitzvah and major tournament, is ultimately a song about losing. The ‘Football’s coming home’ refrain is something of a distraction.
Have you actually listened to it? England’s “gonna throw it away” — a nod to surrendering a 2–0 lead against West Germany in 1970. The “oh-so-nears” — penalties, again to the Germans, in 1990. And so on.
English cricket is perhaps the best exponent of the theory. The sport is indivisible from empire — just look at the nations who play the game. It is governed not by ‘rules’ but ‘laws’. And it is underpinned by that most amorphous of concepts — the Spirit of Cricket. These are, I kid you not, described as ‘ethical guidelines’, emphasising sportsmanship towards opponents, umpires and teammates.
I reflected on this as India beat England by six runs at the Oval this month, replete with tail-ender Chris Woakes heading out to bat, arm in a sling, after suffering a dislocated shoulder earlier in the Test. As India won, the comments across Bluesky (albeit a self-selection of a self-selection) were overwhelmingly about the quality and excitement of the match, rather than England’s agonising defeat. This, to me, is what the young people call a ‘flex’.2
Some of it is adhering to what the social anthropologist and author of Watching the English, Kate Fox, calls “one of the fundamental rules of Englishness”. That is, the Importance of Not Being Earnest, which goes as follows:
Seriousness is acceptable; solemnity is prohibited. Sincerity is allowed; earnestness is strictly forbidden… Serious matters can be spoken of seriously, but one must never take oneself too seriously.
It is surely no coincidence that these rules have hardened as England has grown less dominant in the sports it first codified and then spread around the world. We enjoy winning, but it is not as central to our mindset as it is to other cultures. Or at least the two I know best, American and Australian.
Take Donald Trump’s decision to rename the body of water widely known as The Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of America. This is not in the top-20 of ruinous things the US president has done or said. But, from a British perspective, it is easily the most cringe. You lead the United States, mate. You command the greatest economy, military and social experiment the world has ever seen. Why are you such a… loser?
A health warning: do not confuse an appreciation of a fair result and the efforts of both teams as a sign of uncommon maturity. Quite the reverse. I think the real question the rest of the world must grapple with in any encounter with the English is whether this is all, in fact, grounded in barely-concealed smugness?
Britain, of course, is not alone in reveling in self-criticism. The French, for example, delight in highlighting their own failings. But perhaps — and here lies that English arrogance The New York Times was talking about — we just do it better.
Full disclosure: I am flitting back and forth between the term ‘British’ and ‘English’ because 1. I am British English 2. England comprises around 85% of the population of the UK and 3. Who the heck designed this country? Why does every nation in the union have a devolved parliament except one?
Cc Marge Simpson asking Lisa if kids still say the word ‘cool’
Beautifully observed, - and a delight to watch the Three Lions video!
Always enjoy your posts but England does not need a Devolved Parliament as Westminster is the post 1707 continuation of the pre Act of Union English Parliament. What in earth is British English?