It was a fine winter’s day and I was on a ferry, heading back home to England. Even from Calais, the White Cliffs of Dover were shining in the sunlight, seemingly near enough to touch. Not for the first time, I thought about the difference that a narrow stretch of sea can make.
Dover and Calais are just 21 miles apart. And yet culturally the former is closer to Inverness and latter closer to Marseilles. Much closer. Cross the Channel and you’re in different world. With a British father and a French mother, I feel qualified to generalise, because that’s what countries are: generalities. Yes, each is a grab-bag of language, custom and history, over-flowing with complications – and yet each is obviously distinct from the other grab-bags, even the neighbouring ones.
In one sense, borders are abstractions (unless dictated by physical geography). But the countries within them are real – as real as anything that people make, or that is made of people. It’s therefore legitimate to ask questions about their purpose.
One possible answer is that countries aren’t for anything – other than serving the various individual interests of their own citizens. They should do that, of course – but we must also recognise the collective agency of the nation as a whole. It’s all very well drawing Michael Oakeshott‘s theoretical distinction between an “enterprise association” (a state that organises its people in the service of a common purpose) and a “civil association” (a state that mainly exists to facilitate, and arbitrate between, the personal goals of its individual members), but in reality it’s difficult for a country, especially a rich country with a half-way competent system of government and strong institutions, not to have some collective impact upon the world.
Whether one sees this in terms of a top-down national endeavour or bottom-up, individual decision-making, the fact is that every country will make a particular contribution to the course of human history – especially those with the strongest sense of identity. It seems entirely appropriate that the democratic process should have some influence on what that contribution should be – and to the extent that it does, we can speak of each country having a national purpose.
Charles de Gaulle was in no doubt about that – at least not when it came to his own country. He began his memoires with these famous words:
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