The disruptive rise of English nationalism

ENGLISH NATIONALISM is the most disruptive force in British politics. Brexit would have been impossible without it. The clash between Scottish and English nationalism may well break up the country. It’s also the most perplexing. The distinction between “English” and “British” has always been hazy, and now the very meaning of “Englishness” is changing before our eyes.

Its current transformation makes the nationalism on display in England perhaps the newest in the world, as well as the oldest. Historians argue that England already had a sense of national identity under the Anglo-Saxons, a millennium before the Germans and the Italians. Yet today’s English nationalism is a very different beast from the classic variety that George Orwell celebrated in “England, Your England” in 1941.

Classic English nationalism was more cultural than political. Aside from the explosive problem of Ireland, Britain was an integrated country divided by class, whose constituent parts moved in mysterious harmony at election time. Today British politics is being deconstructed by competing national identities. In 2015, for the first time in the country’s history, and twice thereafter, four different parties topped the polls in the state’s four different territories. Classic English nationalism, moderate and self-deprecating, regarded flag-waving rallies as embarrassing. Today’s nationalism is radical and angry; flags are everywhere.

Given its importance, this new force has been subjected to remarkably little scholarly analysis. Too many academics, snug in their class-based certainties, dismissed it as a compound of racism and bigotry and waited for it to disappear. “Englishness”, a new book by Ailsa Henderson and Richard Wyn Jones, is an admirable exception as well as a scholarly testimony to the union’s strengths: Ms Henderson teaches at Edinburgh University and Mr Wyn Jones at Cardiff. The nine big quantitative surveys of “Englishness” they have conducted since 2011 demonstrate that the number of people who describe themselves as exclusively or mainly English rather than British is growing, and that the idea of “Britishness”—once the glue that held the kingdom together—is splintering. Londoners use it to signal their cosmopolitanism; Scots to signal their unionism.

Scottish nationalism and Euroscepticism gave birth to new English nationalism. From the English perspective, the Scots have always had a good deal from the union: they get higher public spending and more MPs per head. But instead of showing gratitude for the cash, they demanded political power. Nigel Farage, former leader of the United Kingdom Independence Party, said what many Tories were thinking: that “the Scottish tail” was wagging the “English dog” and that the Scots were “getting our money” while “being horrible to us”.

The 2014 Scottish referendum stoked English grievances without satisfying the Scots, and the 2015 election turned a growing political division between the two into a chasm. The Tories played relentlessly on the fear that Labour couldn’t govern without the support of the Scots Nats, plastering England with posters showing a tiny Ed Miliband in Alex Salmond’s top pocket. Labour, which had dominated Scottish politics for decades, was wiped out north of the border, and the nationalists entrenched in power.

Yet as Ms Henderson and Mr Wyn Jones show, there is more to English nationalism than grievance. It is certainly true that people who describe themselves as “English” first and foremost are more likely to feel “left behind”—either because they live in unfashionable corners of the country, such as seaside towns, or because they are older or less educated. But grievance is animated by a strong set of values: commitment to fair play and parliamentary democracy, and a fierce pride in England’s history. The English feel that by pocketing more money than they deserve, the Scots are not playing fair; membership of the EU was wrong because Parliament is the only legitimate source of power; English history has provided “our island nation” with both a web of ties with the Anglo-sphere and a unique global economic and strategic niche.

Riding tigers

The Conservatives have used this powerful identity to grab power, and like to think that they can direct it where they will—applying the spur whenever they choose and the bridle whenever they need. But can they really? They may have harnessed English nationalism, but it has reshaped their party. Conservatives also like to comfort themselves with the thought that English nationalists are also unionists. But are they? Two-thirds of those who describe themselves as English not British say they would be happy if Northern Ireland left the union; and, though they say they want to keep Scotland, they want to keep it on their own terms—by closing Holyrood, reducing public spending to the national average, and preventing Scottish MPs from voting on English laws. A growing number support giving the Scottish nationalists what they want and giving it to them good and hard—depriving the new nation not just of use of sterling but also of passport-free travel.

The problem with English nationalism, in its newly radicalised and politicised form, is that it may be too big to be tamed. Too big geographically: England accounts for 84% of the British population (and growing) and London has more people than Scotland and Wales combined. And too big historically: England played such a central role in the creation of the modern world that ties of blood and history can be found across the world. Yet there is little appetite south of the border for breaking up the country into smaller regions. And there is even less appetite for abandoning the idea that Britain is an exceptional nation. In 1908 G.K. Chesterton wrote a poem called “The Secret People” which included the refrain “we are the people of England that never have spoken yet”. Now that the people of England have started speaking they are not going to be silenced soon. ■