Since 2016, English nationalism has been cited as the source of the country’s travails. It has gripped the psyche of the public intellectual; been seen as the genesis of Brexit; cast aside as an oafish impulse. All a bit strange for a place that is not particularly nationalist at all.
April’s confluence of events – Joe Biden’s visit to Ireland and St George’s Day – should have forced us to reconsider the narrative. Ireland’s civic nationalism, meanwhile, is confident and unembarrassed. Plenty has been said about the optics of Biden’s tour of the island. It was an excellent display of Irish soft power, but verged on caricature (must every visiting dignitary drop into a local pub?). In this newspaper alone several have pointed out that Biden’s vision of Ireland is perhaps one that belongs to the history books – a kind of mawkish paddywhackery that no longer befits a cosmopolitan Europhile state. Nevertheless, Ireland rolled out the green carpet – all too happy to indulge Biden’s archaic instincts. There is nothing to hate about that. In fact, there is plenty to admire in a self-confident nation unafraid of stereotype, not needing to anxiously prove its modernity to the world.
And if Biden would rather listen to The Chieftains than tour Grand Canal Docks, then who are we to say no? The point is that Ireland has a distinct national identity, both modern and rooted in old-fashioned symbology. That identity may have undulated over the past century: at times asserted too aggressively; at others taking on the hues of civic nationalism. In any case, it has long been present, and unwavering. Very few nations care as much about their patron saint as we do about St Patrick. Of course he has been captured in the imaginations of the Irish-Americans more fervently, but it makes Ireland’s own obsession no less potent for that.
Meanwhile, St George’s Day – last Sunday – passed by in England with no bang, not even a whimper, no parade and certainly no day off. On this basis alone it is hard to see why the idea of rampant English nationalism has taken such deep hold. Peering across the Irish Sea it seems there is one country more deserving of the allegation. But behold, Brexit! Was that not the product of a thuggish nationalism? One that demanded “England for the English”? Driven by exceptionalism and isolationism? Well, not really.
I am sure it was for some; we cannot account for the motivations of everyone. But really the lodestar for most Brexit voters was improving services, deregulating, distrust of Brussels rule makers and, yes, a woolly notion of “control”. No one in Ireland needs to believe Brexit is a good or productive thing – it nakedly isn’t – but we should see it for what it is. In fact, the Economist considers the accusation that Brexit was a project of English nationalism and responds: “A majority of voters in Wales voted to depart. The votes of 44 per cent of Northern Irish residents who plumped for Leave were as valid as those cast in Kent. Brexit was British.”
It concludes: “If English nationalism is on the rise, no one has told the English.” It is true. In fact, when we really think about the artefacts of Englishness, they are rather hard to conjure. They have no equivalent of the annual Easter Rising commemorations; most English people will go their whole life without encountering a Morris dancer; the royal family belongs to the commonwealth, not to England.
[ Sinn Féin’s Michelle O’Neill to attend coronation of King CharlesOpens in new window ]
Most things we in Ireland allege to be products of England really are British. Contrast with the visuals of Biden’s grand tour: shamrocks, Irish dancers, green drapery. Unmistakable in their provenance. Of course, nationalism runs far deeper than these symbols. Plenty are merely frivolous. Instead think about Ukip, the supposed electoral wing of this nationalism. It has only ever managed to elect one MP, who left to sit as an independent. The Conservative Party are popular but they are no more patriots than Fine Gael or Fianna Fáil. There is no electoral equivalent to Sinn Féin in England, for obvious reasons. So it still beggars belief that we have conjured an image of surging English nationalism in the face of all evidence.
Strong national identities are usually forged in opposition to something else. Arthur Griffith explains in the Resurrection of Hungary exactly this: Ireland needed an identity that demarcated it from England. Irishness is, to this day, still guided by the idea that it is distinct from its neighbour. But now it has become confident, self assured, at times braggadocious. Maybe a more obvious mode of Englishness will emerge out of hardship brought about by a collapsing Union (don’t count on it too soon), diminished global power (that’s a United Kingdom problem, not an English one), a deepening cost-of-living crisis or a terrible recession (more likely than the others). But, until then, between the recent history of England and Ireland? Nationalism is Ireland’s game – for England it is just a fable.