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How secular Britain sanctified festive season
By Matthew Engel
Published: December 23 2005 20:11 | Last updated: December 23 2005 20:11
In case anyone has managed to avoid thinking about it, this is a reminder that Sunday is Christmas day. Should the Martians be thinking of invading earth, this would be the time to do it; even if it were not a Sunday, most of the planet would be on holiday.

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This applies even in countries that are not officially Christian, such as India and Syria. Japan manages to subsume the day in the guise of celebrations for the emperor’s birthday; and, by happy coincidence, it is Constitution day in Taiwan.
Not to worry: should the Martians turn up, you can be sure that China, Iran, Saudi Arabia and 40 other countries, mostly in Asia, will be awake and staunch in their defence of the rest of us – although the Israelis may be diverted by the coincidence of Hanukkah and the North Koreans busy preparing for their own Constitution day on Tuesday.
It would be foolish for them to expect much help from the British. The Filipinos are generally given the credit for the world’s longest Christmas, which starts with daily dawn masses from December 16. But that is nothing. Britain has been at it since August bank holiday.
Even within the Christian world, the meaning and customs and even the date of Christmas (the Russians wait until January 7) mutate from one country to another. Central Europeans centre their celebrations on Christmas eve (advice: if a Polish family has invited you for dinner tonight, put your own turkey in the freezer – you will not want to eat again until 2007); the Swedes have baked ham and Disney; South Americans still quaintly believe the occasion has something to do with Christianity.
But Britain seems to be the only country which, having turned from Christianity, has instead elevated Christmas into the national religion. Indeed, The Daily Telegraph reported this week that 43 per cent of British adults intended to visit a church over the holiday, which drew an excited response from John Sentamu, the new Archbishop of York: “This is really encouraging,” he said.
Great word, “intend”. I intend to cut down on my drinking, lose half a stone and phone my wife’s auntie in Brisbane. I also intend to stop lying. Since the percentage of Britons who go to church in a normal week is nearer to two than 43, the charitable interpretation is that the interviewer had an accent that made respondents think he said not church, but “Tesco”.
No, what the British do is make a meal of Christmas – in all senses of the word. The event moves into public consciousness with the first gales of autumn. By October it begins to infiltrate every routine transaction: “You’re not expecting it this side of Christmas, are you?” By November the supermarkets are filling with mince pies and festively wrapped packets of nuts. By December, Christmas suffuses every nook and cranny of national life.
The extent of this is a relatively new development, which may be dated back just over 30 years to the Heath government’s decision to make January 1 a bank holiday in England and Wales instead of an informal day when large parts of the population bunked off work in honour of St Hangover. This turned the old two-day Christmas break into one that stretched to the best part of a fortnight, since many offices concluded it was not worth opening between Boxing day and New Year.
This has all kinds of advantages, even for those who do have to work, since it is far easier to drive round Britain next week than at any other time: London can be delightful. And it is not unique: Australia and New Zealand, of course, have Christmas and their summer holidays rolled into one. It might be tricky finding a plumber or electrician there any time before February.
But it is very different to anywhere else in the northern hemisphere. I have spent Christmases in Malta, probably the most pious country in Europe and a place where people really do go to church. The occasion passes off calmly, complete with functioning buses.
Even the US, the global HQ of excess of all kinds, minimises Christmas as a holiday. This year, December 25 being a Sunday, most federal employees will get Monday off. But the concept of Boxing day is unknown. For a Brit in America, this can be a bizarre experience. Even on Christmas day itself, the newspapers are chucked on the front lawn and are as grey and sober as on the other 364 days: not even a yuletide quiz. Next morning, the entire neighbourhood vanishes into the cold dawn to their offices as normal.
This is partly because, in an act of genius, the Americans have managed to split their winter festivals. Thanksgiving – a lovely, uncommercialised holiday – is the time to go home, see the folks and eat turkey. Christmas is for giving presents and trying to outdo the neighbours with lurid displays of outdoor lights. This makes both occasions less pressurised than in Britain, which has no holidays, other than Christmas and New Year, between August and April.
Britain, as ever picking the worst American habits but never the best (eg walk-in closets and unlimited ice), is starting to copy the illuminations. What the British actually need is a Thanksgiving of their own. But it is not entirely clear what they might give thanks for. Christmas, probably.
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