Tag Archives: English

Into Culture: Patronage

When the Bishop of Bradford asked me back in 2022 to develop a strategy for the faith communities engagement with City of Culture I immediately researched previous examples to learn from them. I found a repeated experience of faith communities in the three previous City of Cultures (UK City of Culture is distinct and different from the European Capital of Culture, although many confuse the two). All the reports had seen faith communities feeling overlooked, disconnected and ‘done to’ for other people’s ends. They had attempted to engage through production and contributing artistic products or cultural artifices to the packed programme. Many committed significant resources to contributing to the programme with unique offerings but, when the year came, their offering was lost in the packed schedule and audiences did not connect with their work as much as they had hoped. This caused understandable disappointment and led to compounding a cynicism about the whole project.

I was clear, therefore, as we looked ahead to Bradford being the UK City of Culture in 2025, that the faith communities would be clear, from the outset, what a feasible expectation of their involvement should be. I suggested that our strategy should be underpinned by the word ‘patronage’. I proposed we ‘patronise the arts without patronising the artists.’ What I meant by this was that we should seek to become patrons akin to the old medieval system whereby we support and encourage the artists to produce work of great value and to play our appropriate role in its production. In practice this meant:

to offer our resources to the arts and culture professionals for their use, e.g. space, stories, funding, etc.
to attend and promote the arts and cultural offers and engage with artists in discussing their work and finding points of connection with them.
to volunteer and encourage others to volunteer to ensure the events go smoothly and more people feel the programme is for them.
and to play our part in (re)shaping the cultural narrative.

The problem with this strategy was that the word ‘patronage’ has negative connotations due to its obvious linguistic links with ‘patriarchy’. Even saying we should ‘patronise’ the arts, although technically correctly, is more commonly associated with condescension. This cultural rejection or negating of the whole ‘patri-‘ cluster of words makes the activities that are best described by them difficult to recommend or enact.

During his recent visit my father-in-law became aware that the word ‘patronus’, from the Harry Potter world, is Latin for ‘protector’. Although I was aware of this etymological root I hadn’t quite connected it with my current pondering on the nature and concept of patronage.

St George has been the official patron saint of England since Tudor times having been named the patron saint of the Order of the Garter by Edward III. George was of Cappadocian Greek descent, meaning he came from the region now known as Turkey. He, at no point, visited England and it is likely never knew of England. He was a Christian soldier in the Roman army but due to the persecution of Christianity he was martyred around the third century. He is now more famous for a legend that arose about him in the eleventh century. The story goes that George faced a fierce ‘dragon’ that was wreaking havoc in Libya and slaughtered it, thus saving the king’s daughter from being offered as a sacrifice. George’s bravery and rejection of monetary reward inspired the whole city to become Christian.

One can see why this story resonated with Edward III, who, though vastly outnumbered by the large French army still won several victories in battle. It is here, one could argue, that the English preference to the cultural narrative of ‘the underdog’ began. This particular social story echoes through to our time and continues to impact our collective decisions and instinctive responses, particular in times of conflict.

A patron saint historically was believed to be a saint who intercedes on behalf of a particular nation, craft, person, etc. They are elected by said nation, craft, person, etc. and looked to to protect and support their life and work. Although I understand the theological concept of the intercessions of dead saints and the wider concept of ‘the communion of saints’, I am not convinced by the rationale given and so don’t engage in the promotion of the idea in its common usage. I do, however, appreciate the power such personalities can have on particular people and communities. I believe the benefit is not about the spiritual intercession of the saint but the narrative construct that can inspire the living body that elects it as a patron. I happily celebrate patronal feast days and engage in the stories of saints on their particular anniversaries to pray for those that seek to imitate certain noble characteristics or feel particular resonance with them.

An issue has arisen, however, when I understand the patronage of saints in the way outlined and then seek to define the patronage of the Church to the Arts. In trying to square the circle I have also been thinking about Bradford Cathedral’s patronage of several parishes elsewhere in the Diocese. These patronal relationships are common in all parish churches across England. The patron is not the same as the patron saint of which the particular church is named. The patron has a particular role, historically held, to present particular candidates into the role of parish priest. In the 20th century most diocese went about collecting up ‘patronages’ in order for the Diocesan Bishop to have freedom to appoint who they wish to ecclesiastical livings. Some churches remain within specific organisational patronages (CPAS, The Church Society, Simeon’s Trust).

The Dean of Bradford has rightly, in my mind, decided to redevelop the role of the patron beyond just the recruitment process. In our strategy we have specifically named our aspiration to support and resource our patronage churches. This patronage will look different for each of our churches depending on needs. Some of our patronage churches are growing, lively places of faith with enough resources to sustain their important mission and ministry, whilst others are struggling in different ways. The immediate decision, to enact our strategy, was to offer our resource of clergy time to help maintain worship in all of the places by taking Eucharistic services when there is a vacancy. It has also meant that we have engaged with some in offering advice and consultation to assist in their own growth and development. The Dean also meets regularly with incumbents and encourages them personally.

If patronage is primarily about protection but also, in some way, narrative shaping, what might this mean both for the patronage relationship between the Cathedral and other churches and for the Church and the Arts?

Returning to the topic of patron saints, for a moment. Back in 2021, The Rest is History podcast did an episode on St Cuthbert. Tom Holland, historian and co-host of the podcast, was proposing to adopt St Cuthbert as the patron saint of England. He has developed this idea elsewhere and I am favourable to this suggestion due to the form the cult of St George can evolve into. The problem, I would argue, is that the story of St George shapes those who take it for their own collective story in a particular way: value is placed on defeating enemies with physical strength. That particular myth connects with some darker impulses of human beings and explains, for me, the way in which St George’s cross can now be adopted. Who we’ve chosen to ‘represent us’ in the world says something and gives, in my mind, an unhelpful foundation to the story we project outwards. Does St George focus others’ attention on particular characteristics of ‘English’ and not on other repeated behaviours and actions that we may want to be known for?

If St Cuthbert, on the other hand, were to be the patron saint of England how might it resonate with other parts of our national character?

St Cuthbert is described by Bede as ‘a very pleasant and affable man’ often citing his patience and forbearance as major characteristics. He is depicted, primarily, as a teacher, travelling to places ‘which others feared to visit and whose barbarity and squalor daunted other teachers.’ This brings out a different quality to our painful colonial past. I’m not suggesting that it justifies all, or even most, of the horrific, historical actions by our country on others’ but it does offer a little balance, suggesting that some of our explorations and ‘missions’ may have been done for other, more noble intentions. I am also not suggesting that the language used by Bede in the quote above is language that I would use to describe the many English people who have gone to other places and helped alleviate poverty and health crises.

St Cuthbert was also a reluctant public figure. This may be a personal resonance and not something that is shared widely by my fellow citizens but I get the sense that St Cuthbert was a home bird. He liked being in his own place and being called to go elsewhere was a cost to him. Now, it is true that the English are famous for our desire for home ownership. The data shows that we place a higher value on this than other nations.

The Englishman’s house is his castle.

Last month I mentioned Jeremy Paxman’s book, ‘The English: A Portrait of A People’. In it he explores the English character in its glory and its deep problems. He comes to a summation that I think is an interesting image of what it means to be English, as opposed to British.

Yet, for all claims that the country is ‘finished’, the attitudes of mind that made the English culture what it is – individualism, pragmatism, love of words and, above all, that glorious, fundamental cussedness – are unchanged.
Jeremy Paxman, ‘The English: A Portrait of a People’ (London: Penguin, 1999) p.264

This patronage would frame our sense of ourselves differently from the legend of St George. My impression is that the story of St George no longer resonates enough with us as a people (except during sporting competitions and military conflicts). The use of this dragon-fighting legend to frame and interpret the ‘Blitz spirit’ has been used to justify reckless political endeavours as we pose as miraculous underdogs. One can view the coming together, the forbearance and patience seen during the war through a different qualitative lens if we see it as following the St Cuthbert way. The motivation is different as is the character in which we move forward.

So what of patronage?

The role of a patron, I want to suggest, is to give shape to a person or communities’ cultural narrative. It is to direct them towards that which they want to express to others. To give them a narrative protection and to support them in their exploration and articulation of themselves into the world.

We might want to explore this at Bradford Cathedral as we interact with the churches to which we hold a patronage. This might be that our vision, values and narrative is shared with them. The protection we could offer these churches is in advocacy, particularly those who feel vulnerable to closure by bringing to them our charisms of hospitality, rootedness, interculturality and innovation. We don’t want this patronage relationship to be imposed but want it, like the election of patronal saints, to be desired for the benefit of the patronised (not condescended!)

The Church will need to be more confident in its own story, vision and values if it wants to position itself as a patron of the Arts. Like the relationship between the patronage churches and the Cathedral, ‘the Arts’ has not chosen or elected the Church as their patrons. How might each (potential) patron so inspire their (potential) patronage to look to them to help shape their own articulations of themselves to others? What might the offer of patronage look like in the 21st century where most artists turn to the patronal Arts Council, National Lottery or other trusts who all desire them to fulfil set strategic criteria that fit particular cultural values?

Into Culture: House MD

I continue to return to the question that remained unanswered by the speaker at the Anglican Network of Intercultural Churches,

Can you name a positive attribute of Englishness and a then name a negative attribute of Englishness?

Despite the ease with which, well justified, negative attributes came to his mind on ‘the English’ he could only find himself able to speak about the positive aspects of the establishment of the Church of England (interestingly he quickly undermined that by also listing the vastly more profound negatives!) The English in the room remained silent and there was no follow up. Maybe self-deprecation is the most English of cultural traits! Maybe, to be truly English is to always despise yourself more than anyone else (or at least to present as such) as a form of defence. The challenge comes when you are only left with the self-defeating narrative and it is only you who you are battling with.

As Bradford continues towards City of Culture it is this cynical, defeatist spirit of our age and culture which seems to be the most pressing and most powerful. How will our fortunes change as a city, let alone a nation, if we do not talk about our greatest threat: our own self-loathing? How do we avoid the historical pattern of falling prey to a counter, nationalistic fervour that has famously swept many other nations into the arms of totalitarianism?

As someone who works in the intercultural space, I am particularly aware of the need to be secure in my own cultural biases and lenses in order to engage in those of others. What this means is being able to explore and experience the cultural assumptions of others whilst remaining both objective and yet unthreatened by them. As part of my ongoing development, therefore, I have been exploring what it means, for me, to be ‘English’.

There have been a few books that have proven helpful. The most recent one is ‘England: seven myths that changed a country and how to set them straight’ by Tom Baldwin and Marc Stears. In this book James Graham, a British playwright famous for TV drama, ‘Brexit: The Uncivil War’ and the play ‘Dear England’, articulated the spirit of our age that I fear will rob us of the necessary imagination to reform our nation’s future.

Living in England for the past decade has felt like we were at the end of the TV series that just wouldn’t get to the end. It was financial austerity and the financial crisis too. Then, through the Scottish referendum through to Brexit – every relentless, exhausting, unprecedented week we were having – it just felt like everyone was pushing the button and the country just would not reset. People would not stop recommissioning this awful drama. People are trying to press the punch button but it’s just not reseting.
James Graham in, Tom Baldwin and Marc Stears, ‘England: Seven Myths That Changed a Country and How to Set Them Straight’ (London: Bloomsbury, 2024) p.233

We have a problem, we all can feel it, but we cannot agree upon the solution. I believe we cannot find the remedy because we have yet to clearly identify or articulate the real diagnosis. We know we’re sick; we just don’t know how or even why. A systematic approach to diagnoses starts with the ‘what’, discerns ‘how’ and discovers ‘why’. Once we’ve identified ‘why’, we can then discern the required treatment. Too often teams want to fix a problem and they waste time trying to treat the symptoms rather than doing the deeper work of discovering and curing the cause. This results in continued remissions and the subsequent time spent on managing the returning symptoms, albeit in slightly different forms.

My conjecture is that we must take each presenting issue or symptom of ‘what’s wrong with this country’ and articulate how it has come to be so. This will require detailed study of the regression towards this state and to work out if this problem has always been the case (it may well have been). Once we have accurate, objective data on how this problem has arisen we can then turn our mind on why it has developed in this way. When there are multiple factors at work in a complex system like that of a whole nation this is harder to do and there is a need to apply practical experiments to navigate through the process of diagnosis. Like the fictional process in the American drama, ‘House’, there may need to be some brutal testing of theories to discover the true cure for the illness.

If we take this diagnosis process as a possible path to the right treatment we have two prior questions before we begin it: ‘who’ and ‘when’?

Who should be diagnosing? What group should be investigating and what skills/characteristics will be required within that group?

The second question, however, is key. How do we give such a group the necessary time and freedom to explore the differential diagnosis required? How do we gift them the time to research, debate and further interrogate options? In an age of increasing sense of urgency, the ‘relentless, exhausting, unprecedented weeks’ that our media culture now perpetuates for their own needs of ‘click bait’, this time is part of the solution.

When one is in crisis mode the natural tendency is to fight fires and those whose instincts and job it is to do that (managers) become the drivers of decision making.

We just need to do this before…

The issue “seems obvious” but then the solutions don’t work. This is where Gregory House’s cynical maxim comes in:

Everybody lies.

We tell different types of lies. I know, for example, I lie to myself when I am scared and lonely that I am misunderstood and overlooked. I then fixate on a solution and aggressively pursue it because I am unable to be truthful and vulnerable and admit that I don’t know. We all lie; to cover up our ignorance, indecisiveness and/or intolerance. It takes time and a boundaried space to bring those to the light and allow them to teach us about the deeper factors at play in situations. We, as a nation, have also lied to ourselves.

This is what was explored in Baldwin and Stears’ book about the myths of England. Their conclusion is that England is a complicated, contradictory country (much like Pakistan in Declan Walsh’s summations) and that we must always seek to gather all the information; accurately and thoroughly, being mindful that all information may be faulty in its presentation (“everybody lies”). Time, therefore, is required to interrogate and to do so with precision and focus.

This process is what is lacking in our politics and wider social conversations. This lack of creativity is a symptom, but one that is worth investigating. It leads me to consider what hinders creativity. I began to unpack this in a previous post ‘Into Culture: The Empty Space‘ and I have outlined in much more detail in my BA dissertation ‘The Divine Collective: how modern ensemble theatre practice can help establish creative Christian communities’. Primarily, the issue is common in groups/organisations/nations when they are under pressure; that of, fear and unprocessed grief.

I had wanted to write this month on the notion of patronage (maybe next time!) and about the social narratives/models that are available to shape our corporate identities. The selection of them is not straightforward nor without significant risks but there is a pressing need to find something that will help steer us in a new direction to health and prosperity.

In order to avoid the threat of totalitarianism, on the political right or left, we must defend ourselves against the temptation to myth making based on distorted histories and lies about ourselves. We must rightly diagnose the underlying causes of our intractable problems and avoid the knee-jerk, simplistic prescriptions that will only cure some of the symptoms whilst the disease goes undetected. In the end this will only lead to managing the pain as we enter into palliative care.

Don’t worry. I won’t leave us on that defeatist note. I started by saying I wanted to counter that! I do think there is an increasing appetite for big conversations. There is a renewal in the social patterns that encourage social cohesion. This increasing hunger for such cohesion bubbles underneath Bradford’s City of Culture conversations. How do we break the ground and allow the fountains of healing release to flow? How do we enable such deep diagnostic debate to occur and to ensure that we find the available cure in time? This is where the arts can, if they are allowed, play their part. Or, at least, that is the kind of art I’m interested in!

Into Culture: City of Travellers

I have become fascinated with a particular phrase that I hear quite a lot: “But we want to make it Bradford.” What does it mean to be ‘Bradford’? My colleague the Dean praises certain things by the adulation of, “We made that Bradford.” I was in a discussion about the creation of an Artists’ Charter to be proposed for the City of Bradford. As part of the consultation we were asked “how we would make this distinctly Bradford?” This singular cultural concept rooted in a local place is interesting to me in a city which is so global in its population.

Before moving to Bradford last year I began to be interested in a similar philosophical question but on a slightly larger level: “What does it mean to be British?” or, at times, “What does it mean to be English?” Do such conceptual categories exist? The term is used enough that we all seem to accept it and to bestow upon it meaning but is that meaning shared? I have witnessed it being used in contradictory ways and yet I still feel a truth lying at the heart of the sentiment; or, maybe, I long for it to mean something even if it does not.

A friend of mine often says that stereotypes, however insulting, are rooted in some truth. The issue is the removal of nuance and dimension from the object we’re stereotyping so they become caricatures without dignity and a deeply mysterious depth. Indeed, to stereotype is the start of the de-humanising of a person, but my friend is right in that these broad and basic categories have an element of truth: they’re just isolated from the plethora of other factors that make up a person or nation. Take Germany for example. There is a broad truth that there is, within the German culture, a valuing of efficiency and order. This is also seen in the wider category of germanic cultures outside of the current national identity of ‘Germany’. The question should be asked, therefore, are the people of germanic countries culturally conditioned or is the culture shaped by the people?

As we at Bradford Cathedral go through a vision and value setting process looking ahead to further strategic development, I am aware of the balance of listening and receiving a culture as well as shaping and making a culture. As part of our listening and consultation process we studied our history and probed it for cultural markers and definition. There are certainly some cultural artifices that repeat over the centuries of the community that worshipped on the site of the Cathedral; we have articulated this as ‘a story of change and ambition, of hard work and dedication, of failures and yet trust and hope in a God who changes lives and transforms communities.’

We hear the story of the civil war and how the people of Bradford were outnumbered by Royalists. They were besieged many times and cannons opened fire on the parish church (the future Cathedral that stands today). At the final battle, the Earl of Newcastle ordered the whole of Bradford to be killed. This order was rescinded after he had a visitation from a girl in white who famously said, “Pity poor Bradford.” Whether the people of Bradford like that story or not it is part of the history and it tells us several things that can still be felt and experienced in Bradford today.

Firstly there is a history of being small, outnumbered underdogs who punch above their weight and, with daring do, manage to survive against all odds.

Then there is a sense of being people of protest. Bradford is protestant not just religiously but politically as well. We are the birth place of the Independent Labour Party don’t forget and there is still an alternative or contrary spirit in Bradford but there’s also something radical about our protest. What I mean by that is, like our Puritan ancestors, our protest is about reforming traditions rather than making up new ones. It’s hard to express this cultural nuance in detail but it is a particular Yorkshire trait of being both stubborn and proud of our heritage as well as being radically fresh and innovative. There’s a strange cultural importance, I feel, to the fact that Dietrich Bonhoeffer made his de-nazification speech in Bradford (now called the Bradford Declaration). This was a protest against the Nazi regime and how it had infiltrated all cultural institutions in Germany. This was not a progressive vision but rather a radical demand to return to some previous, lost tradition.

These two aspects could, I suggest, play a major part in what makes ‘Bradford’, but it equally, I think, makes it ‘Yorkshire’. Does it also just make it English? British?

My interest in Englishness was first raised after lockdown as I reconnected with my love of Tolkien. Tolkien had a particular interest in England, as separate from Scotland, Ireland and Wales. He believed that England lacks a cultural myth, whereas the other peoples of Great Britain have such myths. It is this mythological foundation that shapes culture. So what, Tolkien asked, is England’s mythological foundation? This question led him to write the sagas of ‘Middle Earth’ and to formulate a pre-Danish, pre-Beowulf mythology of England.

When people ask me, “Where are you from?” I say I am from Kent. It is where I was born and brought up. It is where my maternal family hold strong roots (my paternal family are mongrels from all over!) I don’t say Tunbridge Wells, although it is more factually accurate, because I do not associate myself with that town, despite being shaped there. When I say, “Kent” I have a mythological concept of green wolds, softened sea breeze, apples and woodlands. I feel comfortable with that imagery and have a nostalgia for that place. It is, I have come to realise, my subconscious attempt at identifying with the Shire and the world of Tolkien’s hobbits. The hobbits, more than any race in Middle Earth, are the English people.

I want to be a hobbit. That is my cultural archetype.

So what of Bradford and it’s cultural shape?

As well as the underdog fighting against all odds against the ruling class and the radical protest for ancient principles there is one historic cultural expression that repeats itself in Bradford: we are ‘a city of travellers’. This phrase appears in J.B. Priestley’s ‘English Journey’. Priestley, a Bradfordian himself, returned to his hometown in 1933 as part of his grand tour of England. He wrote the following,

Bradford was always a city of travellers. Some of its citizens went regularly to other side of the globe to buy wool… They returned to Market Street, the same sturdy Bradfordians, from the ends of the earth… When they returned they did not give themselves cosmopolitan airs; it was very dangerous in Bradford to give yourself any airs, except those by tradition associated with solid wool men. And then there was this curious leaven of intelligent aliens, chiefly German-Jews and mostly affluent. They were so much a part of the place when I was a boy that it never occurred to me to ask why they were there. I… obscurely felt that they had always been with us and would always remain… Bradford was determinedly Yorkshire and provincial, yet some of its suburbs reached as far as Frankfurt and Leipzig. It was odd enough. But it worked.
J.B. Priestey, ‘English Journey’ (Manchester, Harper North, 2023) p.197-198

Although the German-Jews left during the 1920s, Bradford soon welcomed other migrants. First came those from Poland and Ukraine, then South Asians and Caribbeans and we are proud of our City of Sanctuary status. We are not naive in thinking that such welcomes were/are not hard, challenging and, at times, some may experience racism and hostility but we have a way of welcome and are happy to broaden out the category of ‘Bradford’ to encompass people who settle and make this place their home.

It is this singular cultural value that we retell at Bradford Cathedral. The reason is this: we boast a history of Christian witness on the site of the Cathedral that stretches back 1,400 years. Back then there was no settlement, no village or town. A preaching cross was established and from all around people journeyed to hear the Christian faith proclaimed. Soon a market was established to cater for the travellers and then a small village, growing to a town and now a city. This legend says something about the heritage of this place but, as well, says something of a cultural narrative that might be. A unifying story in a multicultural society. We all bring with us a cultural narrative; mine of a Shire and the unassuming littleness of Tolkien’s England, others of family honour, generous gift giving, etc. We all value different things but, if we are to genuinely say something collectively then we need to do the work of exploring shared values and mythologies.

This is the challenge of City of Culture. When all eyes look at Bradford, what is it that we want them to see and to celebrate? What cultural narrative do we want to tell? How might Bradford stand up to the prevailing culture of division, polarisation, post-truth, etc. and protest for a better story? I think it starts by exploring this historic value of welcoming fellow travellers in a uniquely Bradfordian way, which is, in itself, a Yorkshire way of welcome, and, even an English/Hobbit welcome… for more on that read about Bilbo Baggins.