There is a particularly silly version of patriotism which requires us to believe Britain has always been wonderful. Apparently, if you mention something disgraceful done under British rule, you must immediately hand in your Union Jack and apologise for upsetting Nigel at the golf club.
That is not patriotism. A debate this past week at the Oxford Union on whether the West should be suspicious of Islam to some extent brought this to the fore. Clips of the debate have gone viral on social media.
The Queen’s Daughters in India, published in the nineteenth century by Elizabeth Andrew and Katharine Bushnell documents an extraordinary system operating around British military cantonments in India, under which Indian women were registered, medically examined and effectively organised around the requirements of British soldiers.
Read that sentence again. This was not merely a few badly behaved soldiers behaving badly. Governments have always contained idiots and rogues. The far more disturbing allegation is that bureaucracy became involved. Once bureaucracy gets hold of wickedness, naturally it gives it forms, regulations and probably a committee.
The justification was familiar: military health, disease prevention, administrative necessity. Civilisation, apparently. The women themselves seem to have been considerably less enthusiastic about this wonderful piece of public administration. The book describes compulsory intimate examinations and a system in which the liberty and dignity of Indian women became secondary to the convenience and health of British troops.
Here is the awkward bit for those who like their history served as either imperial nostalgia or fashionable national self-loathing. Some of the fiercest opponents were British. Josephine Butler, the great social reformer, described herself explicitly as a “loyal Englishwoman”. She loved her country. That was precisely why she regarded wrongdoing committed in Britain’s name as England’s dishonour.
There is a profound distinction here. The nationalist asks: How do I defend my country? The patriot asks: How do I make my country worthy of defending?
The second requires considerably more courage. Britain’s imperial contradiction was glaring. At home it celebrated Parliament, common law, liberty and limits upon arbitrary power. Abroad, principles occasionally developed an unfortunate tendency to lose their luggage somewhere around Suez.
Imagine Victorian officials proposing the same system for women around Aldershot. Registration. Compulsory examinations. State supervision for the benefit of soldiers. One suspects the language of “necessary health regulations” would suddenly have sounded rather less persuasive.
Distance matters. So do race, class and political power. It is always easier to compromise somebody else’s liberty.
But there is something admirable buried within this ugly story. British women organised against the policy. Politicians challenged it. Petitions were gathered. The book records a memorial carrying more than 61,000 signatures.
So the historical dividing line is not conveniently “British bad, Indians good”. History is rarely written for people who need their morality in colouring-book form.
The patriot asks of their faith and country, how do I make this better? Those at the Oxford Union criticising Islam, were actually trying to improve it and perversely those defending it were being nationalist in defending it.
A patriot should never say, “My country was always right.” A patriot should say something far more demanding: It is my country. Therefore, when it is wrong, it is my responsibility to say so.
Alpesh B Patel OBE