Rishi Sunak is in an unfortunate position. Anything he does that even slightly cuts convention will now be read as a terrible blunder. Once a narrative like this picks up steam it is hard to stop. The press wants to add to the story arc. A delighted Labour will help it along. And perhaps even some of his own camp, looking for a scapegoat in the coming election defeat, will be rooting for him to fail. There’s really no spinning his latest gaffe. It’s quite the decision to aim your entire campaign at those who care about the Second World War, and then to D-day ceremony, leaving veterans standing. Is this match-fixing, you wonder? Some wild scheme – a Westminster version of Mel Brooks’s film The Producers – to turn the campaign into a notorious flop and then somehow profit? The Conservatives have sacrificed their chances with wide swathes of voters in pursuit of a traditionalist core. Insulting war heroes is rarely a wise move. But here it may be fatal. What we saw last week was bad politics and appalling ethics. But what stood out to me was the hypocrisy of it all. It was only two weeks ago that Sunak announced a programme of national service for school leavers. Among this feckless bunch, he said, he wanted to “foster a culture of service”, “a renewed sense of pride in our country” and the urge to “contribute to their community”. But now it is laid bare: Sunak is urging values upon the young that he does not share himself. As one interviewer put it to his face: “These men made the ultimate sacrifice, and you couldn’t even sacrifice an afternoon.” The prime minister made a unique error last week. But there is something familiar about this story, which has the flavour of a three-part family saga: our middle generations, fearing they can never live up to their parents, unloading their anxieties upon their children. There is a version of British identity – central to the Tory campaign – which is based entirely around the deeds of a generation that is now all but gone. Boomers grew up on gilded wartime stories and Commando comics, but went on to lead comfortable, unheroic lives. Gen Z catches the flak. It is remarkable to what extent D-day has this year been co-opted to attack the young, mostly by people born decades after the war ended. Here’s Nigel Farage at the launch of his campaign: “How is it that over 50% of 18- to 34-year-olds have never even heard of D-day?” Here’s Lord (Shaun) Bailey deflecting criticism of Sunak: “We have a young generation that have no idea of our history, they hate the country.” And it’s not just politicians leaping on board. “As we remember the courageous D-day soldiers, I can’t help but draw parallels with the young people of today,” reads an article in the Express. Earlier this year the chief of the general staff, Gen Sir Patrick Sanders, floated the idea of a “citizen army” to bolster reserves. Large parts of the press were beside themselves with excitement: it was just what gen Z needed. This is what comes of clinging to an idea of ourselves that is long out of date. It makes us insecure. Liable to lash out. The stoic, buttoned-up Brit who is “just going out” and “may be some time” no longer really exists except in novels and political speeches. The reality is that Britain is now a nation of striving individualists, too cynical to be patriotic. Sunak dashing back from the beaches of Normandy to do a TV interview is symbolic of the times. The idea of duty and sacrifice no longer stir anyone’s spirit – it would be an odd thing indeed if 18-year-olds rallied to the call. After all, this version of the British character, with its stiff upper lip and readiness for battle, is a fairly recent idea, and was short lived. In the 18th century we were viewed by other Europeans as highly strung hysterics. Indeed, we cultivated the image: displays of sentiment were in vogue and we flung ourselves on sofas and committed suicide at the least provocation. It was only in the late 19th century that Brits started to pride themselves on their stoicism, an idea that reached its zenith in the blitz. It was useful to tell a nation at war that it was good at putting up with unpleasant things like war. Brits learned to think of themselves as conveniently frugal and phlegmatic, the sort that would sacrifice themselves without a murmur. After 1945, however, there began a slow unravelling of the myth. Britishness splintered by age and by geography, and by the time David Cameron took office it was barely definable. A “belief in freedom, tolerance of others, accepting personal and social responsibility, respecting and upholding the rule of law” was his effort at placing the nation. Since then the failure of Brexit has for many severed the last ties of belief in their country. Our values lie elsewhere. If our politicians want to change this, there are better places to start than hectoring young people. Homelessness among veterans rose 14% last year and help for those with complex mental health problems falls far short. Army pay could rise; accommodation for soldiers could be much improved. Politicians in mid life could look at themselves and the example they are setting when it comes to serving their country. And what about some positive reinforcement? During the Covid pandemic young people lost out on jobs, education and social opportunities in order to protect the old. If Sunak wants to foster a spirit of duty and self sacrifice, he could start by thanking them. Martha Gill is an Observer columnist