Snippet
America
Comment
3 min read

America: two nations under God?

Red, blue, and rarely purple.

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

a tattered American flag flies against a blue sky.
Mario Sessions on Unsplash.

I've just come back from the USA. A few days on the east coast was a chance to take the temperature of America after its recent election, a brief impressionistic sense from conversations, reading the runes – and the blogs. In short, I had heard much about the divided state of America. I didn’t realise quite how divided it was.  

America has always made a great deal of unity. The vision for the USA imagined immigrants from different nations across the world invited to forge a new life in a new continent, leaving behind the divisions of the old world. It was the coming together of varied States across the vast continent into one Union. The language is everywhere. Most cities have a ‘Union Square’, Street or Turnpike. The chosen name itself was the United States of America. The slogan E pluribus unum – “out of many, one” was first featured on the original 1776 design of the Great Seal of the United States and formally adopted by the U.S. Congress as the nation's official motto in 1782. The American civil war of the nineteenth century was such a trauma for the nation precisely because it threatened that union. “One nation under God” says the pledge of allegiance, recited by every American child. Yet today it feels that a more realistic description would be two nations under God. The Disunited States of America. 

The split is pretty even. 73.7m people voted Democrat. 76.4m voted Republican. That itself is no great cause for alarm. What does cause alarm is the utter divide between the two groups. New York, for example. is pretty solidly Democrat. Someone who voted Trump told me they would never admit to it publicly because of the public shame it would bring. The same is true in the red states. To admit you voted Democrat in some Southern Baptist churches in Texas would be to invite social ostracism. Many Evangelical pastors who have their doubts about Trump have to keep quiet otherwise they would lose the support of their congregations and quite possibly their jobs. As a result, the only Evangelicals that tend to criticise Trump will be academics or journalists who have little to lose. 

As a taxi driver joked, if a young Democrat goes out on a date with someone they've met on Tinder, and discover their partner voted Republican, there is unlikely to be a second date. A Christian visitor centre in Washington DC tells me that they are looking forward to Trump being President again, because the flow of evangelical Republicans visiting the capital dried up during the past four years as they felt it was Biden’s town. It’s well known that nearly 80 per cent of white Evangelicals voted for Donald Trump. Such families were more likely to come to DC to see the seat of government if they knew ‘their guy’ was in the White House.  

It seems that in the current version of the USA, who you voted for is the number one identity marker. And the two groups rarely talk. In New York I preached in an Episcopal church. The Bible readings for the day spoke of ‘wars and rumours of wars’ – ‘everything will be thrown down’ – apocalyptic texts that invited me to talk about the election in the light of Jesus. Beforehand I asked the Rector what the voting pattern of the church was. “It’s genuinely purple” he said – “a mix of red and blue, Republican and Democrat, Trump and Harris. At least here they do talk to each other.” That seemed a rare thing in this deeply divided country.  

Jesus once said: “Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand.” Trump may well fix the economy and illegal immigration. Yet such deep division, especially in a nation whose identity rests of unity is perhaps a more existential threat. 

Snippet
Comment
Community
Sport
4 min read

What really happens when the Grand National comes to town?

Enjoy those great experiences but remember the neighbours.

Stuart is communications director for the Diocese of Liverpool.

Smartly dressed people crowd a station platform and stairs.
Racegoers arrive at Aintree station.
Merseyrail.

I love watching the periphery of events. Frequently I will be at a gig and find my eye and mind drifting to what is going on at the fringes of the stage. Security distributing water to the thirsty souls of the mosh pit whilst removing the crowd surfer of crushed individual (who invariably rushes back through the stadium to dive back into the fun). You have the semi interested standing at the back trying not to let a good gig interrupt their conversation. You see the road crew retrieving dropped mics, endlessly swapping guitars and nervously following the antics of the lead performers. It is all part of a community drawn together for a couple of hours, from the passionate obsessive to the mildly involved all being sucked into the occasion. 

And for over 30 years I have watched the very fringe of the world famous Grand National event. My wife has taught at a school about half a mile from the famous racecourse so twice daily we pass it by to and from her workplace. I have been to corporate events, our diocese has even held some there, in the stands so have overlooked the course but I have never nor will I ever attend the race meeting. 

But I am fascinated to look in and see the build-up. 

It starts around February as you start to see the white hospitality marquees being erected. You get the big advertising wraps proudly displaying the meeting’s sponsor. Then this week the TV outside broadcast vans turn up, signs directing people to the correct car parks and drop off points appear and the sense of the scale of operations looms large. 

Then there are the signs that someone like me trying to go about the ordinary business of the week don’t want to see. Road closures, no parking zones, diversions all being signposted telling me that this week will be challenging. Gone are the days then I was able to easily move house on Grand National day snaking past the ground while the horses hurtled round the course. 

Travelling in early on race day mornings you see the workforce that comes in to support the enjoyment of the many on race day. A small army of mostly young people dressed in the white and black of waiting staff decamp from the early Merseyrail trains heading to set up in readiness for the day’s punters.  

That’s the bit I mostly miss but it is when the community kicks in. Hordes of people in cars, coaches and trains descend on the area and while most are fine I know from friends living in the area that problems of low level anti-social behaviour affect many local residents when high jinks and too much alcohol spill over to a lack of self-control. And potentially a lack of respect with the notion that my enjoyment trumps anyone else’s rights. 

To be fair I see this type of things coming out of a gig. The moment the house lights go on the crowd that had not minutes before been singing as one voice to the bands biggest hit become engaged in the understandable desire to get home, to get the car out of the car park. As we boisterously leave the venue hyped up by the adrenalin rush you get from a good gig the signs plea to respect the venue’s neighbours is readily dismissed or overlooked. Of course, that sign doesn’t apply to me. 

Behaviour specialists will have no doubt studied the way this works in more detail and there is some research on how crowds behave which I believe informs safety management. This has got to be a benefit for all. And this may have been how things always were but around these events more and more local communities suffer from the impact of thousands suddenly descending and rapidly disappearing. It is similar to the impetus that has led to a backlash against tourists in cities such as Venice and Barcelona. Yes, these events do bring money into the economy, Taylor Swift’s Anfield concerts brought a great amount of revenue for Liverpool. However, a question would have to be how much that benefits the communities that take the brunt. 

The Grand National is big but not unique. And I hope the hundreds of thousands who visit have a tremendous experience but as they do I also hope that they respect the community that they become and the community they land in. 

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