We need to revive civic nationalism

Early last month, an estimated 70,000 protesters gathered for the March Against Anti-Semitism. Addressing the rally, chief rabbi Ephraim Mirvis warned of an ‘explosion’ of anti-Semitic hatred right across the UK. ‘You will hear it’, he said. ‘You will feel it. Britain, wake up now.’ After this month’s attack on a Manchester synagogue and the increasingly venomous ‘pro-Palestine’ marches in central London, Mirvis’s words look grimly prophetic

Yet there was hope evident at the March Against Anti-Semitism, too. Many of the attendees didn’t just hold up the flag of Israel, but Union flags, too. They were protesting against anti-Semitism, but they were also affirming what Britons have in common. It was a testament to the enduring importance of civic values.

This became clear at the closing rally. Taking to the stage, Gideon Falter, one of the organisers, reminded attendees that the Union flag symbolises principles the Jewish community has long cherished and supported – namely, the protection of natural rights, the defence of free speech and the upholding of the rule of law. These, he said, are the values that make Britain worth defending.

Falter’s speech was a much-needed reminder that, far from being ‘divisive’ or ‘exclusionary’, civic nationalism is a unifying force, drawing people together. Indeed, the sight of such a large crowd on 7 September waving their flags with pride showed that national symbols still have the power to embody unity – particularly when linked to the defence of liberty, equality and justice.

This echoes the insights of Enlightenment philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who argued in The Social Contract that true democracy requires citizens to bind themselves to the ‘general will’ – that is, a commitment to shared civic principles over and above narrow self-interest. For Rousseau, a nation was not sustained by blood or heritage, but by the voluntary commitment of free, reasoning individuals to common laws and values. As such, conserving civic nationalism is not a retreat into the past but an affirmation of democracy itself: a reminder that the health of the nation depends on its people recognising their collective responsibility.

In the United States, conservatives often stress the importance of the Bill of Rights, which protects individual liberty against state encroachment. We in Britain would do well to adopt a form of nationalism that is similarly liberal and conservative at the same time – one that restores confidence in our identity and anchors our political life in shared freedoms.

Civic nationalism is distinct from ethnic or tribal nationalism. It does not tie belonging to race, religion or ancestry, but to a shared commitment to democratic principles. It insists that anyone, regardless of background, can be a full member of the national community, if they subscribe to its rules and culture. This idea has been one of the most successful political traditions in the modern West. It underpinned the American and French revolutions, the postwar settlement in Europe, and the resilience of liberal democracies during the Cold War.

Yet in recent decades, civic nationalism has been eroded. In certain progressive circles, the very notion of national pride is now suspect, associated with racial prejudice or xenophobia. Meanwhile, an illiberal right has offered narrower forms of belonging, often centred on ethnicity or resentment. Both trends undermine the possibility of a civic identity that can consolidate diverse populations around shared ideals and kinship.

The urgency of restoring civic nationalism today stems from the fragile state of our liberal traditions. Free speech is increasingly contested, with universities, workplaces and state institutions routinely curtailing liberty of expression rather than defending it. When immigration judges bend legal institutions to serve globalist ends, or when public dissent is quashed by sweeping police powers, the rule of law breaks down.

If these trends continue, the glue that holds our society together will dissolve. What remains will be either a vacuum of apathy, or a myriad of fragmented identitarian grievances. Civic nationalism is not, therefore, a vague nostalgic wish. It is the only means by which we might preserve the conditions under which plural societies can thrive.

By contrast, the left has a misguided tendency to reduce civic citizenship to shared economic grievance. Leftists assume that we are united solely by a frustration with poor services, stagnant wages, or lack of opportunity. It turns working-class people from citizens, participating in a civic project, into denizens, defined by their needs and dependency on the state. The idea of national citizenship is completely hollowed out.

Of course, economic justice matters. But without civic identity, it is no foundation for national life. What sustains national togetherness is the conviction that we are all active players with a mutual responsibility for the protection of our shared civic values. More than giving a sense of meaning to the individual, these are the bonds that inoculate societies against illiberal alternatives.

The Union flag need not be a reactionary totem from ‘the bad old days’. It belongs equally to all citizens engaged in the civic life of the nation. We were reminded of this when we saw the Jewish community waving it so proudly last month. For Britain’s Jews, the flag does not represent chauvinism, but solidarity. The march was an exemplary demonstration of both sides of a healthy polity: both the pride that comes from displaying national symbols, and a commitment to the freedoms those symbols stand for.

Neil Davenport is a writer based in London.