The day after 7/7 and the American media's discovery of a caricatured version of the stiff upper lip and British resilience, an English historian sought to capture the grittiness of London through the evergreen lyrics of Noel Coward: 'Every Blitz/ Your resistance/ Toughening, /From the Ritz/ To the Anchor and Crown/ Nothing ever could override/ The pride of London Town.' Three weeks later, there was Boris Johnson, the incorrigible editor of The Spectator and Conservative MP for Henley, preaching 'We've all got to be as British as Carry On films'
For the scattered inhabitants of what The Daily Telegraph describes in Rhodes-esque terms as the 'Anglosphere', the past month has been both traumatic and heady. Traumatic because it was not easy to comprehend why a British-born, cricket-loving son of a fish-and-chips shop owner in Leeds believed that martyrdom on the Piccadilly Line was the most appropriate way to precipitate a global Islamic Caliphate. Equally disturbing was the finding of a YouGov survey that 24 per cent of Britain's 1.1 million adult Muslims actually sympathized with the objectives of the London bombers. The bewilderment over the new breed of Islamist terrorists was well described by the novelist Hanif Kureishi. 'These men,' he wrote, 'believed they had access to the Truth, as stated in the Qur'an. There could be no doubt ' or even much dispute about moral, social and political problems ' because God had the answers. Therefore, for them to argue with the Truth was like trying to disagree with the facts of geometry.'
The implications are hideous. If terrorism is to be fought by addressing what well-meaning liberals insist are the 'root causes', how is any government going to grapple with the certitudes of people who insist their actions are divinely ordained' Political therapy may necessitate something even more farcical than compulsory screenings of Carry on up the Khyber and assorted Ealing comedies at the British equivalent of Guantanamo Bay.
Yet, there is light at the end of the London Underground. It may be impossible to persuade the Osama bin Laden devotees that god's kingdom on earth should await a backward journey in time or be confined to Pakistan. However, some of the post-bombing reactions in Britain do suggest that even a 'good-natured nation' ' Tony Blair's words ' isn't obliged to meekly offer itself as jihadi fodder. In the face of attacks from a determined bunch of crazies who, unfortunately, enjoy a measure of community sanction, robust and united self-defence is the only way out.
The Blitz wasn't only about East Enders cheering the King and Queen during their walkabouts, the inspiring eloquence of Winston Churchill over crackling wireless sets and good-natured queues at the local butcher's shop. If that had been the case, Britain would have emulated the fortunes of a Republican Spain which, as the cynical poet put it, lost all the battles but had the best songs. What came to be called Britain's 'finest hour' was made possible by the relentless production of Hurricanes and Spitfires, by adroit diplomacy that saw President Franklin Roosevelt extending covert support, and the incredible mobilization of the military and civilian population alike. It was also made possible ' and the Blitz mythology glosses over these ' by draconian action against blackmarketeers, saboteurs, British fascists, 'aliens' and anyone suspected of either aiding or abetting the enemy. The British resolve didn't happen because Britons thought goose-stepping and jackboots were silly. It happened because it was made to happen.
The problem with popular history is that it is woefully selective. Britain, there is little doubt, had a glorious war. At the same time, it had an equally inglorious run-up to the war. In hindsight, the umbrella-waving Neville Chamberlain may appear a slightly ridiculous figure who even mistook the butler at Berchtesgaden for Hitler. Yet, it is undeniable that by the time he landed in Northolt promising peace with honour and peace in our time, he was the most adored politician in Britain. From the balcony of Buckingham Palace flanked by royalty, he was feted by crowds who frankly didn't give a damn whether Czechoslovakia remained independent or became an outpost of the Third Reich. Appeasement wasn't a conspiracy hatched at Cliveden; it was a popular impulse. At the beginning of 1938, only Reds and discards spoke of a coming war with Germany; 24 months later was the Blitz.
History doesn't invariably repeat itself. Yet, there are disconcerting similarities between events leading up to the Blitz and the run-up to 7/7. Between 1935 (that's when Hitler's menacing potential was first acknowledged) and 1939, Britain deluded itself into believing that Hitler was at best a vulgar upstart and at worst a mendacious crank who would sooner or later overreach himself. The policy of appeasement arose from the belief that it wasn't necessary to confront some innocuous displays of torchlight dramatics. And, of course, there was an underlying guilt at having punished Germany a little too harshly at Versailles in 1919.
Whether Britain's current guilt pangs over the Balfour Declaration of 1918 correspond to the inter-War angst over the Treaty of Versailles is for the future to judge. What is patently clear, however, is that solidarity with Palestine has helped mask some of the most insidious forms of pan-Islamism. At the root of this airbrushing of history is Britain's profound post-imperial guilt. The wave of immigration into Britain from south Asia and the West Indies between 1948 and 1974 may have been necessitated by a mix of economics and obligation. However, the hiccups arising from the abrupt entry of black and brown faces into a society traditionally wary of foreigners ' maharajas, cricketers and Gurkhas apart ' were sought to be tackled with a Patiala peg of something called multi-culturalism.
It wouldn't be inaccurate to suggest that in terms of debilitation, the British multi-culturalism of the past 25 years is akin to the appeasement policy of the 1930s. In trying to force-feed cultural pluralism down the throat of native Britons, the liberal establishment committed a colossal blunder. It presumed that integration was a one-way street and the majority's obligation to the minorities.
The consequences were catastrophic. British identity was confronted with its scissor crisis. There was the challenge from the European integrationists and there was the confusion over multi-culturalism. While Brussels pressed relentlessly with its complex rules and regulations, the race relations industry experimented with reggae and halal. The fancy dress parties in Brixton, Southall, Wembley and Brick Lane were by themselves quite harmless, adding some flamboyance and bad food to Britain. Unfortunately, they went hand in hand with the message that immigrants had no obligation to integrate themselves into the Anglosphere. On the contrary, multi-culturalism demanded the creation of little Indias, Pakistans, Bangladeshs and Jamaicas in the heart of urban England.
The declaration of war on Britain by jihadis, nurtured, schooled and fattened by a permissive and contrite state, was a disaster waiting to happen.
Post-7/7 there hasn't been a physical backlash but the ferocity of the emotional reaction has been staggering. 'The rules of the game,' Blair assured the indignant last week, 'are changing.' It would be heartening if the change is not confined to expelling every rabid, neo-literate mullah back to Pakistan and keeping youngsters with pantomime beards and desert headgear under MI5 surveillance. In enforcing Britishness, Britain must reclaim some of its own values and uphold institutions that stand in danger of crumbling through prolonged neglect. Since the age of irreverence dawned in 1968, Britishness has been equated with a passport issued by HMG. It's time Britain became emotionally British again.