God save the Queen could be dropped from from English sporting events, if Labour MP Toby Perkins has his way.
He's sponsoring a bill to be presented on Wednesday that will call on culture secretary John Whittingdale to hold a consultation on scrapping the song.
When I first heard this, I wasn't terribly impressed (I'm a Labour voter but a cultural conservative – note the small c). However: Perkins' argument is that it's the UK anthem, not England's, and we can do better than that. Political calculations aside, it's just a bit rude.
All this was driven home to me on September 26, 2015, in a pub in Brecon. We were on a church men's weekend away, and having scrambled up Pen y Fan during the day we ventured in, a little nervously, to watch the England-Wales rugby match. "Gwlad, gwlad, pleidiol wyf i'm gwlad" sang our hosts, a little uncertainly, while we – having realised we were among friends – cheerfully belted out "Send her victorious, happy and glorious".
It didn't feel quite right, though the psychic unease provoked by centuries of English oppression was soon overshadowed by the far greater misery of an ignominious thrashing.
Still: can't we do better? Perkins says, reasonably enough: "By recognising that England is a component part of the union but a different entity, I think this strengthens both our Englishness but also reminds us all of what the union is."
I think he's right; and that's aside from the fact that God save the Queen is a rotten national anthem. The tune is dreary, for a start, and – God bless your Majesty! – our United Kingdom is about rather more than monarchy. But what are the alternatives?
First is I vow to thee, my country. The words are a poem by diplomat Cecil Spring Rice written in 1908. Rice served as Britain's ambassador to the US and influenced Woodrow Wilson to enter the First World War on Britain's side. He re-wrote the poem in 1918 to reflect the tragedy of Britain's losses; the first verse, which speaks of the love that "lays upon the altar the dearest and the best" and "makes undaunted the final sacrifice" deliberately recall those deaths. The tune is by Holst, based on the Jupiter theme from The Planets suite.
The second verse (including more war references) is not usually sung, but the third speaks of the Kingdom of Heaven: "We may not count her armies, we may not see her King;/ Her fortress is a faithful heart, her pride is suffering..." It doesn't mention God, but if this poem counts as a hymn, it's because of this verse.
But would it work at a rugby match? Surely not. The tune would do well enough, but the patriotism is too in-your-face for us Brits. We are, many of us, very patriotic, in our understated way, but we'd be terribly embarrassed to admit it. Furthermore, we're rather too aware of the dark side of Empire to be able to sing that we vow "Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love;/ The love that asks no question, the love that stands the test..."
No: it might have done in 1908, but not today.
The front-runner by a country mile, though, is Jerusalem. "And did those feet in ancient time/ Walk upon England's mountain's green?" It's one of those rhetorical questions to which the answer is "No", but even so: it's a brilliant opening to a brilliant poem. It grips us by the scruff of the neck and says, "Pay attention."
William Blake (1757-1827) was an oddity in his lifetime and only received the recognition he deserved after his death. He was completely original in his work as a poet and engraver. A sincere believer, he parted company with the Church and its vocabulary, creating his own elaborate mythology. Known today as Jerusalem, the preface to his long poem Milton, is part of that. Drawing upon an old legend that Joseph of Arimathea brought the child Jesus to England, it looks back to a Golden Age: "And was Jerusalem builded here, among these dark Satanic Mills?" It's sometimes said that these were the mills of the Industrial Revolution that were beginning to deface England's green and pleasant land. It was more complicated than that: he also meant mental and spiritual "mills" that crushed imagination and spirituality, like the universities and the churches.
The second verse – as we sing it to Parry's stupendous tune – calls for his "bow of burning gold" and his "arrows of desire". It ends:
"I will not cease from mental fight
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land."
This is pure, white-hot idealism: the world as it is just isn't good enough, so let's make it better. The song has been sung by all political parties. It was a Labour Party campaign slogan in the 1945 general election. Even George V said he preferred it to God save the King.
Would it work at a rugby match? Definitely: it's the one occasion in modern life when tens of thousands of people can unite to express a common cause with passion and pride. And while they may think they're just cheering on their team, a good anthem does more than that: it tells them what, in their heart of hearts, they really believe.
Whether Toby Perkins' bill on Wednesday makes any progress, at least the question has been asked again. If there's a petition for Jerusalem, tell me where to sign.
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