Suzanne Harrington: Take a long hard look at yourself, England
Dear England
That is, the England that the rest of us see on the news, the England gaslighting us from the Houses of Parliament, the England that writes those xenophobic, dog-whistle headlines from the guts of its gutter press. An England that is eating itself feet first. Is it time to call in the mental health team?
On the day of the Euros final, a meme did the rounds of a world map. Every single country, including Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, contained an Italian flag. Nobody wanted you to win. Like nul points at the Eurovision, except with real feeling; like that Libertines track, 'Can’t Stand You Now'. All personified by those England ‘fans’ trashing Leicester Square, trying to smash their way into Wembley Stadium, booing national anthems, mocking a little German girl crying. Racially abusing your three brilliant young players – Rashford, Saka and Sancho – for missing penalties while being black.
This stuff does not happen in a vacuum. When senior government, including the Prime Minister, pointedly refuses to condemn football ‘fans’ for booing players taking the knee, and refers to taking the knee as ‘gesture politics’ – as opposed to protesting the very racism endured by the three young lions in the Euros aftermath– they might as well stand up in Parliament and shout about sending them all back, like Enoch Powell. (Actually, there are plans afoot to do just that, to criminalise asylum seekers and deport them offshore, Aussie style. What next – brown kids in cages?)
The thing is, England, you’re properly messed up. You retain that lingering post-colonial delusion, where you genuinely believe that you’re still important, instead of facing up to your Brexit reality; you’re just a small island, love. You know, like Ireland, but with Nigel Farage and delusions of grandeur. The Baby Jane of Europe.
And as long as you keep electing those sociopaths and arrogant fools, those who cling on to power by appealing to your infinitely dodgy past – no blacks, no Irish, no dogs – things are hardly going to improve. Come on England. You can do better than this. Spit out the jingoistic Kool-Aid and regroup before you sink without trace into the Irish Sea.
The real England – the modern, inclusive England represented by that young football team and its humble, decent manager – is the one to reach for now. Stop electing Eton donkeys, stop with the self-serving class hatred, stop firing up the basest racist instincts of white people with little left to cling to other than a fake and manipulated idea of national identity. Focus on your heroes – not Churchill, but Rashford, who raised £20 million for hungry kids as the politicians and royals looked the other way.
Take a long hard look at yourself in a full-length global mirror, England. It’s not pretty, is it? And while you’re at it, get yourselves a new football anthem - a less arrogant one. Because the only thing that’s coming home for you now, England, are the chickens to roost.
Sincerely,
Everyone Else
