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Did you know some of the world’s most powerful national anthems were almost never chosen? Behind every stirring melody lies a tale of political drama, cultural shifts, and even last-minute swaps. These songs weren’t just plucked from thin air—they survived fierce debates, revolutions, and sometimes outright bans.
The Star-Spangled Banner (USA)
America’s anthem began as a poem by Francis Scott Key, hastily scribbled during the War of 1812 and set to a British drinking tune called “To Anacreon in Heaven.” For decades, it competed with sentimental favorites like “America the Beautiful,” whose lyrics praised landscapes over battles. Congress didn’t make it official until 1931—over a century after Key wrote it. Some critics still argue its soaring high notes make it nearly impossible to sing. Imagine stadium crowds belting out “My Country, ’Tis of Thee” instead—it almost happened.
God Save the King (UK)
This anthem’s melody is the ultimate musical freeloader—it’s used by Liechtenstein and even early America before switching allegiances. British parliamentarians have seriously debated replacing it with Blake’s hymn “Jerusalem,” with its dreamy “green and pleasant land” imagery. Royalists adore its traditional roots, while others call it outdated. During Queen Elizabeth II’s reign, a punk band once screeched a profane version at her Silver Jubilee. The monarchy survived… but the anthem’s critics haven’t backed down.
La Marseillaise (France)
Written in one feverish night during the French Revolution, this anthem was originally titled “War Song for the Rhine Army.” Napoleon banned it, kings despised it, and Nazis forbade it—yet it always roared back. Its bloodthirsty lyrics (“Let impure blood water our fields!”) still shock modern listeners. A 1992 law requires French schools to teach it, though some teachers wince at explaining lines about “slitting throats.” For a softer option, France briefly used a gentle hymn called “Le Chant du Départ.” Spoiler: it didn’t last.
O Canada (Canada)
Canada’s anthem had an identity crisis from the start. The French lyrics debuted in 1880, but English translations sparked battles for decades—one version implored God to “keep our land glorious and free,” another begged to “guard thee from the tyrant’s chain.” In the 1960s, feminists protested the line “true patriot love in all thy sons command,” finally changed to “all of us” in 2018. Hockey arenas still erupt when the opening chords play, proving even messy histories can unite.
Deutschlandlied (Germany)
Post-WWII Germany faced a musical minefield. The anthem’s first stanza (“Germany above all”) was tainted by Nazi use, so only the third stanza about “unity and justice” survived. When East and West Germany reunited in 1990, protesters demanded a new anthem entirely. Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” was floated—too European, said critics. The compromise? Keep the melody but treat the lyrics like a fragile heirloom.
Il Canto degli Italiani (Italy)
Italians belted out this anthem for 71 years before it was officially adopted in 2017. Many preferred Verdi’s soaring “Va, pensiero,” with its exiled Hebrew slaves’ lament. Mussolini had tried hijacking the anthem for fascist rallies, leaving postwar Italy wary. Even today, some soccer fans only mouth the words—not from disrespect, but because the 19th-century lyrics feel archaic.
Jana Gana Mana (India)
Tagore’s hymn won out over the fiery “Vande Mataram,” which Hindu nationalists adored but Muslims found divisive. A bizarre myth persists that Tagore wrote it to flatter King George V—historians call this nonsense. The real scandal? How short it is. At just 52 seconds, it’s one of the world’s briefest anthems, leaving sports medal ceremonies awkwardly truncated.
Kimigayo (Japan)
With just 11 measures, Japan’s anthem is shorter than a TikTok. Its lyrics about the emperor’s reign “lasting 8,000 generations” made it controversial after WWII. Schools were ordered to teach it in 1999, sparking protests—teachers refused to bow to the flag. One principal committed suicide over the pressure. Meanwhile, Studio Ghibli’s Hayao Miyazaki proposed a whimsical alternative featuring “forest spirits.” The government wasn’t amused.
Advance Australia Fair (Australia)
This anthem replaced “God Save the Queen” in 1984 after a national plebiscite. Many voters wanted the folk ballad “Waltzing Matilda,” with its rogue sheep-stealing hero. Indigenous Australians criticized “Advance Australia Fair” for ignoring 65,000 years of First Nations history—only in 2021 did lyrics change from “young and free” to “one and free.” Stadium crowds still drunkenly warble “Matilda” at cricket matches, anthem be damned.
The Soldier’s Song (Ireland)
Rebels sang this during the 1916 Easter Rising, but its English translation took until 1926. Some argued the mournful “Danny Boy” would better represent Ireland’s diaspora. The anthem’s militant lyrics (“Mid cannon’s roar and rifles’ peal”) made peace-process politicians squirm. During a 2011 royal visit, Ireland’s president forgot the words—proving even patriots stumble.
Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika (South Africa)
This anthem stitches together five languages, including Zulu, Xhosa, and Afrikaans—a musical quilt of the “Rainbow Nation.” Mandela insisted on keeping the apartheid-era Afrikaans verse “Die Stem,” infuriating some but symbolizing reconciliation. The melody weaves in a Xhosa hymn and a Zulu freedom song. When Springboks rugby players sing it, you can see white and black teammates mouthing different lyrics in perfect harmony.
March of the Volunteers (China)
Mao’s regime banned this anthem during the Cultural Revolution—too bourgeois—then reinstated it as a propaganda tool. The lyricist Tian Han was jailed and erased from official records until 1979. Today, it blares before Communist Party speeches, but urban youths joke about rewriting it as a K-pop track. The original 1935 film version? Lost to history, like so much from that era.
Hatikvah (Israel)
Based on a Czech folk tune, this anthem’s minor key makes it uniquely haunting. Arab-Israeli lawmakers often stay seated when it plays—its lyrics about “the Jewish soul” exclude 20% of citizens. Some propose a neutral alternative like Israel’s unofficial second anthem, the folk song “Yerushalayim Shel Zahav.” But after Oct 7 attacks, tearful renditions at rallies showed its emotional grip remains fierce.
Aegukga (South Korea)
South Koreans once sang their anthem to the tune of “Auld Lang Syne”—until a composer crafted a distinctly Korean melody in 1936. The lyrics praise the “East Sea” (Japan calls it the Sea of Japan), ensuring diplomatic frostiness. K-pop stars now perform orchestral versions at Olympics, but older Koreans still hum the Scottish-sounding original by accident.
My Belarusy (Belarus)
This Soviet holdover got new lyrics in 2002—but the melody still screams “USSR.” Protesters in 2020 sang the medieval “Pahonia” instead, until police arrested them for “unauthorized singing.” The government insists the anthem represents stability, but young Belarusians roll their eyes. When a TikToker mashed it up with techno, it went viral… until censors deleted it.
Every anthem tells a story—not just of nations, but of the fights over who gets to define them. Which one surprised you the most?
Besides founding Festivaltopia, Luca is the co founder of trib, an art and fashion collectiv you find on several regional events and online. Also he is part of the management board at HORiZONTE, a group travel provider in Germany.
