Since I’ve been living in England, I’ve keenly taken to the local custom of an evening siesta. Well okay, perhaps it’s not that local of a custom, but I’m much closer to its origins here than I ever was back at UT; besides, a brief nap frequently comes in handy after a long night at the pub (okay, a long night at the library).
Anyway, waking up from one such siesta this past week, I was a bit disoriented to look out my window and see a gorgeous fireworks display. Was I still dreaming, or did those stubborn Brits finally atone for their past by recognizing that beautiful holiday of American Independence? Sure, the timing was off, but maybe they commemorated the signing of the Treaty of Paris (1783) rather than the Declaration of Independence.
Bursting with excitement, I quickly grabbed my Toby Keith CD, American flag and double-barreled shotgun and went outside to see if my dreams had come true.
How quickly I was disappointed when I discovered that those selfish Brits, in a characteristically chauvinist manner, were in fact celebrating a holiday based on their own history.
American readers probably will not even be able to comprehend the shameful myopia that characterizes the British way of life. After all, we internationalist Americans celebrate the great holidays of other nations – such as Mexico’s Cinco de Mayo or Ireland’s St. Patrick’s Day – with a public display of drunken decadence unseen since the Roman Saturnalia. Yet the British can’t even bring themselves to an orgiastic inebriated state every July.
The objection may be made that the Brits can’t be decried for not celebrating the liberation of an oppressed people from their rule, but that’s just apologetic nonsense. After all, that sort of reasoning doesn’t stop us Americans from lining up en masse in solidarity with the Vietnamese every April for Reunification Day.
Now, these arrogant Brits stole our fireworks, just as they stole our liberal ideas and our Puritan religion, and they blaspheme them in their so-called Bonfire Night. In 1605, a group of seditious Catholics led by Guy Fawkes entered Parliament intent on blowing it up with King James I inside. They failed, and Guy Fawkes underwent what Dick Cheney would call a “robust interrogation program” before meeting his death at the Tower of London.
Ever since that year the British have annually observed Bonfire Night, or Guy Fawkes Night, by setting off fireworks and burning Guy Fawkes dummies in effigy. What woke me up from my siesta was a tradition that is hundreds of years old and one whose relevance I completely fail to comprehend.
If the British are to use fireworks for a public holiday, obviously intended as a deliberate affront to American Independence Day, then that holiday should surely signify an important tradition of their nation. Either way you slice it, Guy Fawkes Night fails the litmus test.
If Guy Fawkes is burnt all across England annually for hundreds of years after the plot for the purpose of punishment, then the level of sadism that reveals about British culture is astounding. Poor Guy more than paid the price of his actions during his “robust interrogation” alone; how can future generations live with themselves subjecting his face to such eternal torment?
I don’t see Americans constructing mannequins of Benedict Arnold to consecrate with sulfur and gasoline; and even for our rebellious South, I can’t see the most ardent Confederate gouging the eyes out of an embalmed Abe Lincoln in ritual fashion.
But I confess that I’m even more puzzled if the holiday is used to commemorate Guy. A common quip over here is that Guy was “the only man to ever enter Parliament with honest intentions.”
In America, we don’t take lightly to traitors to our nation. Our holidays celebrate heroic patriots. Future American children will grow up celebrating George Washington Day, Abraham Lincoln Day and George W. Bush Day. There will be no holidays commemorating turncoats like John Brown.
How the British can make room for this festival while snubbing American Independence is beyond me.
But then again, in a country where a typical Burger King employee has the same amount of political power as the Queen (or perhaps more, does the Queen even vote?) who knows what to expect?
One thing’s for sure: rather than scoffing at American Independence while watching the fireworks of these arrogant Brits, you can bet that Toby Keith and I used the fireworks to celebrate on our own, American style.