It is the private conviction of most Englishmen that there is nothing wrong with the rest of the world that a proper appreciation of cricket could not put right. Most of the rest of the world, including most Englishwomen, begs to differ. This, after all, is the game which, in the words of Lord Mancroft “the English, not being a spiritual people, have invented in order to give themselves some conception of eternity.” Only in the West Indies, the Indian subcontinent, and above all in Australia, which has dominated the sport for nearly two decades, is the English enthusiasm for cricket reciprocated.

Still, for many of my fellow countrymen, England’s triumph over Australia this week after the most exciting series of matches in recent times is certainly the most memorable event of the year. It is not for Tony Blair’s third election victory or even the bombing of London by British Muslims that they will recall the summer of 2005.No: This will be the year when England won the Ashes, the holy grail of a ritual that does indeed seem like an extension of the established religion, except that it is taken much more seriously.

As I wrote here a few weeks ago, the revival of English enthusiasm for cricket is a reliable indicator of latent patriotic sentiment. So, too, is an even longer summer series: the Proms. The Henry Wood Promenade Concerts, to give them their proper title, reached their climax last Saturday. With its raucous, flag-waving renditions of “Land of Hope and Glory,” “Rule Britannia,” “Jerusalem,” “God Save the Queen,” and “Auld Lang Syne,” the Last Night of the Proms is one of those uniquely British institutions that make the liberals at the BBC, which runs the Proms, cringe with embarrassment. Four years ago, in the immediate aftermath of September 11, the patriotic songs were dropped, supposedly as a mark of respect for the victims, only to be reinstated by popular demand.

This sort of uncomplicated celebration of Britishness manages to flourish side by side with one of the world’s oldest, biggest, and most cosmopolitan music festivals. Saturday’s Last Night included a superb performance by the German counter-tenor Andreas Scholl, who went down a storm with the audience. The conductor, Paul Daniel, spoke movingly of music’s power to build bridges. I can testify to that, having taken various members of my family to seven of the Proms this year. You certainly feel that power sitting literally within spitting distance of Placido Domingo, or watching my teenage daughter discover Brahms, Bruckner, Mahler, and Berg for the first time. In this context, the jingoism of the Last Night (one of 74 concerts) may be philistine, but it is hardly offensive.

Yet there is one subculture in Britain that has yet to show itself to be compatible even with these most lighthearted and inclusive forms of patriotism: Islam. In its political form, Islamism, there is not merely a refusal to integrate, but an active attempt to reshape the traditions or institutions of the host country. The aim is not participation, but the opposite.

Many years ago, the Conservative politician Norman (now Lord) Tebbit scandalized liberal opinion by proposing what he called “the cricket test” to determine whether immigrants were integrated or not. Lord Tebbit’s question was simple: “Which side do they cheer for? Are you still looking back to where you came from or where you are?” If they supported the England cricket team, then they had fully accepted the values of the host country. If, on the other hand, they stuck to the team of their country of origin, such as Pakistan, India, or West Indies, this meant the integration had failed.

Lord Tebbit’s cricket test, which flew in the face of multicultural dogma, has been vindicated, at least in the case of the Muslim minority, by the London bombings. For culture and morality are intimately connected. The phrase, somewhat antiquated now, with which Englishmen traditionally express moral disapproval of an action, is: “It’s not cricket.” This is far too mild an expression to describe terrorism, but it accurately conveys the notion that playing by the rules matters, in life as in sport.

An example of not playing by the rules on a matter of the utmost seriousness came to light this week. Last January, Iqbal Sacranie, the secretary-general of the Muslim Council of Britain, refused to attend ceremonies to mark Holocaust Memorial Day. At the time he gave rather vague explanations, but this week it has emerged that he and other senior Muslims have been pressuring the prime minister to rename the event “Genocide Memorial Day.” The fact that Jewish victims of the Nazis were commemorated, but Palestinian Arab victims of the Israelis were not, was “offensive” to Muslims. This view really is offensive, not only to Jews but to all decent people, and it is being pushed hard in committees set up by Mr. Blair to examine better ways of integrating Muslims into British society.

What makes this more extraordinary is that Mr. Sacranie and the organization he leads is not seen as extremist by the government. When the chief rabbi, Jonathan Sacks, was given a long overdue knighthood by the queen earlier this year, Mr. Blair made sure that Mr. Sacranie got one too, even though their achievements, merits, and status are by no means comparable.

Mr. Sacranie, like so many Islamists, wants to have his cake and eat it: to sit at the top table, enjoy the benefits of Western civilization, but simultaneously demand that Britain break the moral code at the heart of that civilization, by officially endorsing the lie of moral equivalence between Israel and the Nazis. No, Sir Iqbal: It’s not cricket. Mr. Blair should ask himself whether any game is possible with those who play only by their own rules.