Why Last Night of the Proms is a traditional ritual worth conserving
The decision to cancel the singing of the traditional Last Night of the Proms finale pieces has ended exactly as one would expect. A decision that, given the law on public singing in the era of Covid-19, probably needed to be made has been made. Conservatives foaming at the mouth because an exception hasn’t been made are missing the point – the rules are the rules, at least for now.
But it would be beyond naïve to assume that there is not more afoot at the BBC here. The changes in our culture due to coronavirus will no doubt shift in many cases from being temporary to becoming permanent, and for those with an agenda and the willpower to force it through, the necessary strictures may serve as a gateway to changes they would quite like to stick forever.
There have been rows going on about the Last Night of the Proms for years – is it jingoistic? Is it embarrassing in this day and age? Doesn’t it seem a bit awkward to sing the anthems of imperial Victoriana when the Empire and its legacy is long gone?
But what is interesting is that the enemies of the Last Night – you know, the snobbish, socially-liberal types who fancy themselves arbiters of cultural value – just don’t like the music. It’s the “worst night” of the Proms, they say – in musical terms this is probably true. It’s kitsch, it’s bathos, it’s nostalgic, misty-eyed stuff for plebs, grannies and football fans.
This is a sleight of hand. In almost every other debate, social progressives with a distaste for anything that smacks of tradition or old-fashioned patriotism usually insist that it isn’t a cultural artefact’s inherent aesthetic qualities or artistic merit that should determine its value; rather, it is its subjective importance to a particular community. Especially when it comes to cultural minorities – their traditions, however recent, confected or silly (or not), must be respected, and of course never appropriated.
Except when it comes to the Last Night. In that case, to hell with the fact that for many it is an important night of national symbolism, celebrating Britain’s historic greatness and in historical terms very recent victories against tyranny. The Last Night’s worst crime of all is that it is fun, and fun of the kind disapproved of by liberal snobs.
In the case of the Last Night, the Guardianista and Beeb class, who form what Coleridge presciently foresaw as a “clerisy”, package up their own aesthetic sensibilities and distaste for what they perceive as poor taste nationalism in the language of offence culture. The Last Night is “irrelevant”, “not a real tradition” or otherwise “made up” – as if all traditions were not so.
This disingenuous condescension is almost impossible to argue against – as Paley said of Gibbon, “who can refute a sneer?” But we should not be blindsided by this barrage of bourgeois bollocks. Anyone with some familiarity with classical music could tell you that Pomp & Circumstance is hardly the best, or that our national anthem is a bit of a dirge. This is entirely to miss the point.
Traditions are created; nobody denies this. They have elements that may seem more “authentic” than others, but to a significant extent this is a matter of interpretation and of taste. This is the point about symbols – their meaning arises in the space between the symbol and the individual. Perhaps some hear “Rule, Britannia!” and dream of colonising the world again (though I doubt it). Others may feel “isn’t it a jolly good thing that we won the war – and that many gave their lives”. Personally, I like the fact that “Rule, Britannia” was originally a poem penned in the 18th century pamphlet “The Craftsman”, calling for British disentanglement from continental foreign affairs and a reorientation in favour of interests overseas. Infer from that whatever modern analogies you will…
The truth is, most of those who hate the Last Night of the Proms have a deep internal emotional and aesthetic response to it that is negative, for all sorts of reasons – and perhaps those are legitimate. They don’t like the music, or what it represents, or (in many cases I’m sure) the people who do like it. But the aesthetic preferences of an elite embarrassed by Britain’s history and averse to its symbols, visual and musical, should not dictate what should be the case for the rest of us. It is another case of the Left wanting to take something away that it personally doesn’t like, and to get its way – yet again.
Anti-Proms snobs should overcome their own preoccupations with their own taste and realise that other people – most of us – really are very much uninterested in whether the Last Night is, for them, problematic, antiquated or awkward. That is their own preference, and they of course have the option of switching off.
Those who love the Last Night – whatever it represents for them – merely wish to continue something which fundamentally belongs to them, not to musical snobs at the Beeb. Let us never forget that traditions, however silly to some, do not rely for their life on the approval of an elite but arise from the culture they are born out of, and that is where the ownership of those traditions lies. It’s not for the squeamish woke to decide.
My own response to it is closely linked with the memory of my late grandfather. A more pacific person you couldn’t hope to meet: a quiet man of routine yet a staunch patriot who served for six years in the Royal Engineers, losing a brother in France. For him, the Last Night was tied up with his experiences of conflict, loss and victory. As a consequence, my own childhood experience was by extension tied to his. When it comes to national traditions, we all have our own relationship with the ritual in question and with its historical and moral meaning.
Gavin Rice is a Senior Researcher at the Centre for Social Justice think tank.