National anthems have fallen behind the times

NATIONAL ANTHEMS can be tricky. The funeral of Elizabeth II moved with military surefootedness in every aspect except one: the singing of the anthem. A nation that had dutifully sung the same words for 70 years hesitated. “God save our gracious queen” seemed wrong (clearly, it was a bit late for that). But “God save our gracious king” felt inappropriate, too: she was still lying there, after all. In Westminster Abbey, the congregation compromised. “Long live our noble keen,” they droned; “God save the quing.”

Britain’s anthem offers other thorny problems. When sung in full, it includes a second verse in which God is called upon to “scatter his enemies” and frustrate their “knavish tricks”. When the anthem was first sung in 1745, its sentiments were considered so splendidly sensible that they were greeted by “repeated Huzzas”, encores and “universal Applause”, according to the Daily Advertiser, a newspaper. In the more sensitive atmosphere of 2022, however, and in front of an international audience, such lyrics seemed rather less splendid. That verse was judiciously edited out.

The coronation of King Charles III, which will take place in May 2023, is a perfect opportunity for further updates. And Britain’s is not the only anthem that could do with a little editing. Many were written in the 19th century; few champion equality and diversity as modern minds might wish; and an improbably large number drip with blood. This variously streams generously (Algeria); spills purely (Belgium); dyes the flag red (Vietnam) or waters the furrows impurely (France).

The British national anthem is not the only one that could do with a little editing

Indeed, few nations present their best selves in their anthems. Consider the anthem of the contested region of Western Sahara. With its bright F-major key and jolly marching rhythm, it encourages patriots to “Cut off the head of the invader!”—and not just once, but twice, which is surely the very definition of overkill. Meanwhile the Vietnamese anthem also assures its people that “the path to glory is paved with the corpses of our enemies”; while the Algerian one opts for musical metaphor to explain (fortissimo) that the Algerians have taken “the sound of machineguns as our melody”. Simon and Garfunkel it ain’t.

Some problems will be simpler to fix than others. Sexism is a persistent trait in anthems—but easily addressed. Italy might want to revisit its anthem, “Brothers of Italy”, to make it “Brothers and Sisters of Italy”—particularly now that it has its first female prime minister in Giorgia Meloni, who heads a party named after the anthem. Both male and female patriots could then feel included when singing its lusty chorus—“We are ready for death!/We are ready for death!/Italy has called. Yes!”—marking a fine step forward for gender equality.

There are other challenges. Many anthems promote self-harm; some would benefit from trigger warnings. Italy’s romanticises death, while the “Children’s verse” in the Marseillaise encourages French infants to die like their elders and “share their coffins” rather than accept defeat. (This mingles suicidal ideation with a touch of historical revisionism—the French having a bit of a track record of preferring defeat to death.) Turkey’s anthem, meanwhile, vividly depicts how fallen patriots will one day rise from their graves: “Tears of blood shall spill out from my every wound,” it runs, “and my lifeless body shall burst forth from the earth.”

Indeed, read several anthems in a row and it’s hard to escape the thought that their authors are a troubled lot. Many seem depressed; several seethe with paranoia; others show a clear tendency to catastrophise. Take the Marseillaise, whose first verse contains the charming and apparently bucolic line: “Do you hear, in the countryside…” it begins. What can the sound be? Cows lowing? The wind in the vine leaves? No: it is “the roar of those ferocious soldiers. They’re coming…to slit the throats of your women and children.”

There is, in short, much room for improvement. Anthems could, perhaps, focus more on positive national traits. France’s could, for example, hymn its gastronomic prowess, high-speed trains and nuclear energy, while Turkey’s could note its agricultural self-sufficiency and astonishing geopolitical flexibility.

This will not always be easy: national anthems are often held dear and people have fought and died for them. Yet change is possible. After the second world war, Germany decided to stop singing about being “über alles”. And when Stalin died, Russia’s anthem praising his inspiring leadership died with him—and Vladimir Putin later retooled and reinstated it. For the most part, however, the blood-curdling words found in many anthems are rarely heard and little known. It is tempting to conclude that few people would notice if their outmoded sentiments were quietly consigned to the cutting-room floor of history.■

Catherine Nixey: Britain correspondent, The Economist

This article appeared in the Leaders section of the print edition of The World Ahead 2023 under the headline “Not the same old songs”