The self-loathing of Britain's elites
On the problem of ‘oikophobia’: a review of books by Melanie Phillips and Benedict Beckeld
In news that shocked no one, last week Steve Coogan, the actor behind Alan Partridge, revealed his ‘antipathy’ towards the British flag. The part-time campaigner against press freedom claims he holds the British establishment at arm’s length ‘because of history’. Clearly, he is not referring to ancient history. In October, Coogan signed a letter saying that Britain was ‘aiding and abetting’ alleged Israeli war crimes in Gaza. Indeed, such is Coogan’s loathing of Britain that he now claims Irish citizenship.
Ironically, despite his anti-establishment posturing, Coogan shares his distaste for all things British with the overwhelming majority of Britain’s cultural elite. It is all but impossible to find a musician, artist, actor or curator prepared to make an unironic display of patriotism. Expressing antipathy for the Union Jack, disgust for Britain’s past, and contempt for British traditions has long been a way for the intelligentsia to signal their moral superiority. More than 30 years ago, Roger Scruton employed the term ‘oikophobia’ to describe the intellectual elite’s habit of denigrating the customs, culture and institutions associated not just with Britain but with Western civilisation more broadly.
The philosopher Benedict Beckeld continues Scruton’s argument in his recently published book Western Self-Contempt: Oikophobia in the Decline of Civilizations. He defines oikophobia as ‘the fear or hatred of home or one’s own society’ or ‘of one’s home culture’. It is, he says, ‘the expression of a type of cultural decadence’. As Coogan illustrates, it requires a great deal of privilege to express disgust for a nation that provided you with education, resources, cultural capital and, ultimately, a platform.
Beckeld’s focus on oikophobia is timely: new examples emerge daily. A girl is sent home from school for wearing a Union Jack dress to celebrate being British on World Culture Day. University reading lists and art gallery exhibits are decolonised, with work by British authors and artists removed. Institutions seek to distance themselves from association with once notable historical figures. Statues are torn down. Cathedrals are given over to silent discos or graffiti displays. Parish churches face closure because of demands they meet green targets and set money aside for slavery reparations. Local councils struggle to name ‘Christmas’ and ‘Easter’.
Melanie Phillips also explores the problem of Western self-loathing in her latest book The Builder’s Stone: How Jews and Christians Built the West - And Why Only They Can Save It. ‘The West seems to have given up on trying to defend itself against both external and internal threats,’ she writes. As if to prove her point, the Labour government seems content to allow a massive Chinese embassy to be built in the heart of London, and determined to pay billions of pounds to hand the Chagos Islands over to Mauritius. Meanwhile, illegal migrants continue to cross the Channel and a national inquiry into Pakistani rape gangs is notable only by its absence. Britain’s oikophobic malaise is such that our ruling class no longer so much as recognises our national self-interest.
Oikophobia may be an intellectual problem but its symptoms are very real. A country with no love for its past is rootless in the present and aimless about the future. Children taught only to condemn their birthplace have no respect for its laws and values. A nation unable to name its own interests struggles to defend itself on the worldstage. An elite class that is disdainful of tradition grows contemptuous of its fellow citizens, and society becomes increasingly divided.
Where does oikophobia emerge from?
Both Beckeld and Phillips identify oikophobia with cultural relativism. For Beckeld, oikophobia is a cyclical phenomenon, evident in the decline of all great civilisations. ‘The rise itself contributes to the fall,’ he explains, ‘and what was strength, namely diversity and openness in adopting new ideas, becomes weakness and fragmentation.’ For Phillips, ‘Multiculturalism means that the host community refuses to prioritize its own historical culture, because it’s a doctrine that holds all cultures are equal in value to each other. With hierarchies of value being deemed racist, exclusive, and therefore illegitimate, the host community cannot impose its own core precepts.’ It is possible to imagine that a confident country, able to name and defend its national interest, can welcome outsiders while retaining a strong sense of its own identity. But that has not been Britain for many years.
Understanding the cause of oikophobia is vital if we are to innoculate ourselves from its symptoms. Beckeld suggests that the expansion of civilizations, through population growth and migration, creates diverse and more fractured communities ‘that will view the closer threat—other interest groups of the same people—as more urgent than the more distant Other.’ ‘Over time it is forgotten why the enemy, soundly defeated, was ever an enemy, and he seems harmless, even benevolent, in comparison to the ruffians at home who are competing for money and prestige.’ Meanwhile, prosperity leads to the formation of a decadent leisure class with ‘an unwillingness to die for one’s civilization’. The conditions are ripe for oikophobia.
Beckeld suggests history - and human psychology - lend an inevitability to this cyclical rise and fall of civilizations. But the danger with this analysis is that in focusing on historical parallels we lose sight of what is unique about our current condition. And if we believe in national destiny, we diminish our own responsibility for bringing about change in the present.
In his analysis, Beckeld does indeed highlight political decisions that could, with effort, be undone. For example, he points out that, ‘Dependence makes people resentful and miserly, and the more they receive from the state, the less they will respect it.’ Certainly it is the case that today’s oikophobic Britain has created the conditions for mass state dependency, and with it grievance and entitlement. The question is whether this can be reversed.
For Phillips, oikophobia ‘is at root a spiritual problem, a crisis over meaning and purpose.’ This brings her directly to the collapse of religious belief in Western societies, and, more specifically, the rejection of Christianity and with it the Judaism on which it was built, alongside a deference for Islam, imposed in the name of ‘multiculturalism’ and ‘diversity’.
The West’s apathy towards the plight of Jews following the October 7th pogrom marks a pivotal moment in this spiritual vacuum. Crucially, for Phillips, ‘Judaism is the West’s civilizational soul. Christianity itself, the institutional foundation of that civilization, rests upon Jewish precepts that Christianity thus channelled into Western culture.’ And if this is the case then, ‘Killing Judaism is a way of destroying the West’s internal identity, cohesion and defenses.’ Pro-Palestinian marches and calls to ‘globalize the intifada’ are, then, the ‘top of the ocean’ evidence of oikophobia. Beneath the surface lie the collapse of education and the transmission of culture, strong family units, adherence to the law and shared moral frameworks.
An elite malady
Back to Steve Coogan. Both Beckeld and Phillips explore oikophobia as a malady that incubates within a social, cultural and political elite before spreading to more of the populace. Beckeld explains: ‘Because of their education, intellectuals know more about their own culture’s vices and crimes, and are able to lecture their fellow citizens about everything the civilization has done wrong, which feeds into their vanity, and they can thereby elevate themselves—which everyone tries to do one way or the other—by specifically denigrating the rest of their civilization.’ So Coogan, and the rest of his celebrity chums, distinguish themselves from what they perceive to be the less educated, and less virtuous masses, by expressing their antipathy for the Union Jack and all things British. That such comments are divisive, and insulting to those who remain loyal to and proud of Britain, is of little concern.
Phillips also pins the blame for oikophobia on elite thought: ‘The terrible truth is that the West no longer understands what civilization actually is. Specifically, it no longer understands that civilization is Western, that the West gave birth to it. Instead, our best and brightest have told us for decades that the West was born in the original sins of imperialism and colonialism, racism and white privilege.’ She is clear as to the ensuing problems: ‘Since this agenda has been imposed by political and cultural elites upon populations that bitterly resent the attack on their historic national identity, a chasm has opened between the governing classes and large sections of the public who are staring aghast at what they perceive to be the destruction of their culture,’ she writes.
What is the solution?
The endemic social and political problems Beckeld and Phillip identify, and the oikophobia that has left fractured populations bereft of solidarity or purpose, are clearly expressed. Beckeld suggests a way out lies not with free will but with re-discovering individual and collective moral responsibility: ‘We are still always responsible for our actions, and our influence on the course of things is very real.’ Phillips, meanwhile, argues we need ‘a fresh cultural settlement: not one that offers a false and unachievable utopia but a society of conscience, justice and truth that chooses light over darkness and taps into the generous, rational and heroic aspects of the human spirit. And in that inspirational endeavor, the Jewish people have a key role to play.’
When it feels as if we are living through the dying days of Western civilization, hoping for a resurgent belief in moral responsibility and the heroic aspects of the human spirit can seem like a tall order. But both Beckeld and Phillips offer an important analysis of the reasons for our current malaise. Their work points to the cracks in what has been, for far too long, the oikophobic elite consensus. And where there are cracks, the light gets in.


The key question for me is whether it is possible to challenge oikophobia without a resurgence in religious belief. I have huge respect for those with conviction, and I marvel at the magnificent art and buildings religion has inspired. But I do not, personally, believe in God. And so I am aware that my 'respect' for Christianity depends upon other people having faith. Is that universalizable? Can humanism fill the spiritual vacuum Phillips identifies?
Brilliant