Sounding a racist note or merely enjoying the power of music?

SO LET us rehearse the argument against the Last Night at the Proms. There are those who feel uncomfortable at the sight of an overwhelmingly white audience brandishing the Union flag, wearing bowler hats of red, white and blue and lustily singing Jerusalem, Land of Hope and Glory and Rule Britannia. What they see is an anachronism, a jingoistic display, not of Britain, but of Little England. They see the Promenaders raising their flags as a means of putting down that of others. They view it as mildly racist, a rallying-post for those who mourn the end of the Empire and the multiculturalism that is Britannia’s legacy.

Some Scots may find it uncomfortable for two reasons: they see the Union flag as the Saltire imprisoned by the flag of St George, and the Rule Britannia as London’s writ over the North. Other, Scots Catholics, may associate the Union flag with Rangers fans, for in the West Coast it most commonly flutters outside pubs where a supporter of those in green and gold would fear to tread. Those on the Left may feel the scenes are too reminiscent of the old Tory Party conference, and the fact that it is all broadcast by the BBC around the world, as a means of perpetuating an Albion that no longer exists.

Those who watch the scenes at the annual finale with a deep unease are not alone. In 1991 Mark Elder, the conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra, who takes centre-stage at each final prom, suggested what he saw as crude jingoism would be out of step if Britain still remained at war in Iraq, and so was sacked by the controller of the Proms. While in 2008, Margaret Hodge, the culture minister, said more had to be done to appeal to people from different backgrounds: “the audience for many of our greatest cultural events – I’m thinking in particular of the Proms – is still a long way from demonstrating that people from different backgrounds feel at ease in being part of this”. She was slapped down by Gordon Brown, who instead insisted the concert was “wonderful, democratic and quintessentially British”.

For the Last Night of the Proms is indeed, all of those things. Wonderful? Well, who can deny the emotional power of live orchestral music? As I type, in a few hours’ time I will be attending the Royal Scottish National Orchestra’s warm-up for the new autumn season at Kelvingrove Art Gallery in Glasgow. I’ve never lost the sense of wonder at watching so many disparate musicians swoop together at the twitch of the maestro’s baton, it’s as if a mighty wind swept through a factory of spare parts and instantly assembles Concorde.

Democratic? Well, the BBC Proms have been described as the most democratic musical festival in the world. The founder, Robert Newman, wanted to create a relaxed atmosphere where those unfamiliar with classical music could be encouraged to attend by low prices. As he stated: “I am going to run nightly concerts and train the public by easy stages. Popular at first, gradually raising the standard until I have created a public for classical and modern music.” Eating, drinking and smoking were all allowed at the time, of course, and today hundreds of tickets are available at low prices on the day of each concert, with “Prommers” standing in the arena and gallery. (You could, of course, argue that here the poor stand, while the rich sit, but, well, let’s not.)

Quintessentially British? Well, it is the Union flag many fly, not that of St George as this is designed as a celebration of Britain. Yet the fact remains that in the Albert Hall the flags of many nations are flown, including a number of Saltires, But I do understand, apart from the Protestants of Northern Ireland, that the citizens of each nation feel either Scottish, English, Welsh or Irish first and foremost, with British second. Another point is that there are few occasions when the British flag is flown in joy; must it only come out in the hands of racists, or mournfully draped over the coffins of fallen soldiers? To tackle the accusation that the audience is overwhelmingly white, it does seem to me to be a strange fault. Do we complain that the audience at the Mobo awards are overwhelmingly black, or those who attend the Mela mainly Asian? When the Asian writer Sarfraz Manzoor attended the Last Night he discovered that a number of those flying the English flags were foreign. As one German in a red, white and blue bowler hat explained to him: “It’s just my way of expressing my fondness for this country.”

So, let us now move on to the trilogy of songs whose rousing choruses threaten to lift the roof each September. God Save The Queen, well, of course, people will point out the long-discarded fifth chorus in which Marshall Wade was urged to “rebellious Scots to crush”, but they ignore the beauty of the fourth chorus: “Lord make the nations see/that men shall brothers be/And form one family/The wide world over.” Then there is Land of Hope and Glory, and who can argue against “Truth and Right and Freedom, each a holy gem/Stars of holy brightness, weave they diadem.” Or even Rule Britannia!, which is a hymn to freedom, for “Britons, never, never, never shall be slaves.” If the Last Night of the Proms is a celebration of Britain and its past, no student of history and 1941 in particular can fail to be moved by “Thee haughty tyrants ne’er shall tame/All their attempts to bend thee down/Will but arouse thy generous flame/But work their woe and they renown.”

And please, don’t let me get started on Jerusalem, to which I was wed, and whose first few chords cannot fail to prick a tear to my eye and whose lines by Blake, a mystic who saw angels among the branches of trees, inspire me still.

Personally I’ve always found it curious that those who find God Save The Queen offensive (for a verse never sung) have no problem with our official football anthem, Flower of Scotland, and a verse always sung about how we battle against “Proud Edward’s Army”. I know that it’s about the division of power and how comments from the underdog or oppressed are always tolerated, but have we not left those days behind? If England adopted a song that mocked William Wallace would our understandable upset by predicated solely on the fact that there is only five million of us and 50 million of them?

Critics forget that the Last Night of the Proms is a celebration to which all are invited, and to which by the viewing figures millions take delight. For the past eight years the Last Night of the Proms has also been celebrated in Scotland with, one year, 17,000 people attending a free concert in Glasgow Green. Sadly, our inclement weather, which one year washed the whole event away, means it is now held at Dundee’s Caird Hall where Highland Cathedral, written by two Scots-influenced Germans, will be performed tonight at the finale.

Yet there is one factor of Last Night of the Proms overlooked by those who tout their distaste from their tartan sofas, the final musical note is always Scottish. For that we owe thanks to James Loughran, the Glaswegian conductor who between 1965 and 1971 was chief conductor of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra, and who, upon taking control of the maestro’s baton for the first time on the final night in 1977, insisted that the programme close with Auld Lang Syne. Since then, though it may not appear on the official programme, the Last Night of the Proms has always ended with the audience hand-in-hand and singing the words of Robert Burns. Is that really such a bad thing?