Anthems have little to do with culture

If you’re watching the Olympics, you might be wondering: Why do those national anthems, ours included, have so little to do with the true culture of the countries they are supposed to represent?

The other day, I listened to the playing of “The Star-Spangled Banner” as Michael Phelps, the U.S. swimming star, appeared to struggle with the words as he was awarded his first gold medal.

As I did, I had to remind myself that the tune began as a British drinking song that had nothing to do with the Stars and Stripes or the infant Republic. It was only after Francis Scott Key outfitted it with patriotic words, in 1814, that it became as indelible a symbol of American patriotic pride as the flag, the Fourth of July and Donald Trump.

It’s not like this country doesn’t have enough troubles. Do we really need, on top of that, some stodgy march from the Old World whose words nobody can get right (is it “through the perilous fight” or “perilous night”?), and whose vocal line is almost impossible for ordinary folks to sing?

How much better it would be if we adopted the late Ray Charles version of “America the Beautiful” or James Brown’s “Living in America” as the nation’s celebratory hymn. Wouldn’t that be a better, politically and culturally hipper reflection of today’s American society to send around the world?

Sadly, other countries haven’t done much better. With few exceptions, none of their national anthems contains indigenous musical elements, and most of those are mired in the bloated pomp of the 19th century.

Ah, but wouldn’t it be great if an Olympic medallist from Argentina were saluted with a tango? Or a Jamaican with a Bob Marley song? Or a Cuban with a salsa number?

How thrilling it would have been for even non-Australians to hear the band strike up “Waltzing Matilda” when swimmer Ian (Thorpedo) Thorpe got his medal. Instead, we were treated to the dull and forgettable anthem, “Advance Australia Fair.”.

Of course, not all old anthems are bad anthems. The good ones are good because they salute the soul of a nation, not just its flag, people or traditions; they do so with words and music that resonate in the mind with a fervor and sincerity that leap across national boundaries.

Think of the noble, swelling hymn that is Britain’s “God Save the Queen.” It’s the world’s oldest anthem, dating back to 1745. The tune is so good that it has been adopted by other countries, including Liechtenstein; indeed, when Liechtenstein faced England in a recent European Football Championship qualifying game, fans had to listen to the same anthem played twice.

Think of the French “Marseillaise.” This smart, vigorous, unabashedly patriotic call-to-arms moves proudly up the scale like a tricolore thrust to the heavens. Even when a French athlete loses, just playing the French national anthem will send consoling shivers down the spines of every red-blooded French spectator.

Or think of China’s catchy, fanfare-like anthem, “March of the Volunteers,” which sounds rather like an Asian riff on Elgar’s famous “Pomp and Circumstance” march.

Yes, it was a bit disconcerting to see the young, petite Chinese synchronized divers, Guo Jingjing and Wu Minxia, accepting their medals while an anthem bearing such belligerent lyrics as “Brave the enemy’s gunfire, march on!” was playing in the background. But the image did serve as a reminder that most anthems, including our own, were born of bloodshed and strife, forged from the nationalistic spirit of the Romantic century.

But never mind catchy tunes and stirring lyrics. When it comes to national anthems, achieving a tone of high seriousness and boosting the authority of the state have long been deemed more important than artistic worth.

The result is that most anthems — even when they take the form of hymns, marches, songs or fanfares — come off as pompous dirges.

Even the ones that stick in the ear sound like as if they belong in some other country. Nineteenth century Italian opera strongly influenced the anthems of Central and South America and the Caribbean, which is why the anthems of El Salvador, Dominica, Brazil, Chile and Uruguay all sound like early stage works by Giuseppe Verdi.

Others have texts that sound positively bloodthirsty to an outsider. Uday Hussein may no longer be around to “inspire” failing Iraqi athletes with torture, but the country’s anthem, adopted in 1981, still urges citizens to “advance to a certain victory, bringing terror.” (What, no weapons of mass destruction?)

Others lose something in translation. The opening of Ukraine’s anthem reads: “Ukraine has not died yet.”

And a key line in the Republic of Congo’s anthem seems to deal more casually (or is that existentially?) with the concept: “And if we have to die/Does it really matter?”