Why I Will Never Be Truly English
A digital storm has erupted over a deceptively simple question: what does it mean to be English?
On one side stands Fraser Nelson, formerly of this parish, insisting that being born in England automatically grants one the title of “English”. On the other, Konstantin Kisin, the podcaster, arguing that Englishness is an ethnic identity, one not simply inherited through geography. When pressed with a scenario – if his children were born in Japan, would they be Japanese? – Fraser agreed they would be.
This exchange reveals a deeper anxiety: Britain, and particularly England, is in the throes of an identity crisis. The fallout of unprecedented migration, cultural fragmentation, and the collapse of multiculturalism has left many wondering where our nation is headed. But to preserve something, we must first define it. And therein lies our confusion. As the debate between Fraser and Konstantin has shown, English identity remains profoundly unsettled.
Englishness has never been static or simple. From the arrival of the Romans to the waves of Saxons, Vikings, and Normans, English culture has always absorbed and adapted. How many generations must pass before one can claim to be English? Five? Six? It is a question without an easy answer.
If we are to defend Judeo-Christian civilization, British values, and the distinctiveness of English culture, there must be some form of consensus.
English identity is strangely muted. Historically, its language, dress, and the institutions of Empire were its defining features. But these have been exported so successfully that they no longer feel distinctly English. So what remains? Cricket and ale? A stiff upper lip? Polite reserve? It’s hard to say. What we do know is that many are struggling to name what it is that makes someone, or something, English.
This lack of definition is at the heart of the crisis. For decades, political leaders have been hesitant to assert Englishness for fear of being labelled nationalistic or xenophobic.
But that timidity has diluted the national identity to the point where anything seems to qualify. In Fraser’s world, all it takes to join the tribe is a plane ticket and a birth certificate. This reduction of identity to mere geography explains why we see clashes on our streets between Hindus and Muslims over conflicts thousands of miles away.
This liberal tendency explains why there are neighbourhoods in England where English is irregularly spoken, Western dress is abandoned, women and girls are subjugated and loyalty to Britain is not just absent but often opposed. Some in these communities may hold British passports and be born here. But does that make them English?
In my own case, I disagree with Fraser. I was born here, raised speaking the Queen’s English, and educated in England. Yet I am not English. My parents, members of the Indian diaspora, were born in Kenya and Mauritius. They acquired British citizenship, but they were not – and could never be – considered English. For Englishness to mean something substantial, it must be rooted in ancestry, heritage, and, yes, ethnicity – not just residence or fluency.
And that’s no slight against those of us with different roots. I don’t feel English because I have no generational ties to English soil, no ancestral stories tied to the towns or villages of this land.
My heritage, with its rich cultural and racial identity, is something distinct. I am British Asian, and I feel a deep love, gratitude and loyalty to this country. But I cannot claim to be English, nor should I. This is not exclusionary – it is honest. And it’s what living in a multi-ethnic society entails.
I lived in France for a couple of years. I spoke the language fluently and adopted aspects of French life. Yet I never thought for a moment that I could ever claim to be French. Identity doesn’t work that way. The same must hold true for Englishness. This approach is common in other countries; in Japan, for example, citizenship is generally based on descent.
I’m sure these views will send progressive elites into a tailspin. It won’t be long before someone accuses me of being a fascist. But we – especially those of us on the Right – must stop being so squeamish about national identity. To preserve British values and English culture, we need clarity, not denial. To call this divisive or racist is to dodge a necessary conversation about who we are and where we’re heading.
For too long, we have treated nationality and citizenship casually and as interchangeable concepts, unwilling to confront the deeper cultural issues. I said years ago that multiculturalism had failed. We are now living in the wreckage of that failure. Our identity crisis is the result of decades of neglect, complacency, and cowardice. We have allowed what once made England distinctive to be diluted, denigrated, and demonised. Now, more than ever, we must define what it is we are fighting for – before it slips away entirely.