D-day deserter Rishi Sunak didn’t do his duty, so why should gen Z be expected to do theirs? | Martha Gill
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Rishi Sunak is at a disadvantage. Anything he did that even slightly violated convention would now be read as a terrible mistake. Once a narrative like this gets going, it’s hard to stop. The press wants to add to the story. An admirable labor will help. And perhaps even some in his own camp, looking for a scapegoat in the coming election defeat, will support his failure.
There really is no spin on his latest gaffe. A perfectly good solution is to target your entire campaign to those interested in World War II, and then to D day ceremony, leaving veterans straight.
Is this match fixing you wonder? Some wild scheme – Westminster version Mel Brooksthe film of The producers – turn the campaign into a known failure and then somehow win? The Conservatives sacrificed their chances with broad swathes of voters in pursuit of a traditionalist core. Insulting war heroes is rarely a wise move. But here it can be fatal.
What we saw last week was bad politics and terrible ethics. But what struck me was the hypocrisy of it all. Just two weeks ago, Sunak announced a program for national service for school leavers. Among this helpless group, he said, he wants to “foster a culture of service,” a “renewed sense of pride in our country” and a desire to “contribute to their community.” But now it has been revealed: Sunak is pushing for values of the youth that he himself does not share. As one interviewer put it to his face: “These men made the ultimate sacrifice, and you could not sacrifice even an afternoon.”
Last week the Prime Minister made a unique mistake. But there is something familiar about this story, which has the flavor of a three-part family saga: our middle generations, fearing that they can never live up to their parents, pass their anxieties onto their children.
There is a version of British identity – central to the Tory campaign – that rests entirely on the doings of a generation now all but gone. Boomers grew up on gilded war stories and Commando comics, but continued to lead a comfortable, non-heroic life. Gen Z catches the anti-aircraft strike.
It is remarkable the extent to which D-Day this year has been co-opted to attack the young, mostly by people born decades after the end of the war. This is Nigel Farage at his campaign launch: “How come over 50% of 18- to 34-year-olds haven’t even heard of D-Day?” Here is Lord (Sean) Bailey deflecting criticism of Sunak: “We have a young generation that has no idea about our history, they hate the country.” And it’s not just politicians who are getting involved. “As we remember the brave soldiers of D-Day, I can’t help but draw a parallel with today’s young people,” reads an article in Express. Earlier this year the Chief of the General Staff, General Sir Patrick Sanders, floated the idea of “citizen army” to strengthen the reserves. Much of the press was beside themselves with excitement: this was just what Gen Z needed.
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This is what comes from clinging to a self-image that is long out of date. It makes us insecure. Possibility of explosion. The stoic, buttoned-up Brit who is “just getting out” and “could be a while” no longer exists in reality except in novels and political speeches.
The reality is that Britain is now a nation of aspiring individualists, too cynical to be patriotic. Sunac, returning from the beaches of Normandy to give a television interview, is a symbol of the times. The idea of duty and self-sacrifice no longer excites anyone’s spirit – it would indeed be strange if 18-year-olds rallied to the call.
After all, this version of the British hero, with his stiff upper lip and readiness for battle, is a relatively new idea and was short-lived. In the 18th century, other Europeans looked at us as high-strung hysterics. Indeed, we cultivated the image: displays of feeling were in fashion and we threw ourselves on sofas and killed ourselves at the slightest provocation. It wasn’t until the late 19th century that the British began to pride themselves on their stoicism, an idea that reached its zenith in the Blitz. It was useful to tell a nation at war that it was good at putting up with unpleasant things like war. The British learned to think of themselves as comfortably thrifty and phlegmatic, the kind who would sacrifice without a murmur.
After 1945, however, the myth slowly unraveled. Britain is fragmenting by age and geography, and by the time David Cameron takes office, it can barely be defined. “Belief in freedom, tolerance of others, acceptance of personal and social responsibility, respect and maintenance of the rule of law” was his effort to place the nation. Since then, the failure of Brexit has, for many, severed the last bonds of faith in their country. Our values are elsewhere.
If our politicians want to change this, there are better places to start than by pushing young people. Veteran homelessness up 14% last year and help for those with complex mental health problems is woefully inadequate. Army salaries may rise; the accommodation of the soldiers could be greatly improved.
Middle-aged politicians could look at themselves and the example they set when it comes to serving their country. And how about some positive reinforcement? During the Covid pandemic, young people lost jobs, education and social opportunities to protect the old. If Sunak wants to encourage a spirit of duty and self-sacrifice, he can start by thanking them.
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