Like so many, I am thinking of joining the exodus from London, the mass migration westward. My destination? Devon. The attraction? Rolling hills, bucolic villages, idyllic beaches, sea kayaking, clotted cream … and to be among the white English. Perhaps I ought to re-phrase that: to be among the English. But that is not much better because the English are overwhelmingly white, and according to the ethnic groupings of the Office for National Statistics, only whites can identify as English – blacks and Asians being relegated to the category ‘British’. Either way, I have revealed myself to be a potential ethnic nationalist cum white supremacist, a dangerous threat to our diverse inclusive multicultural society.
The conflation of ‘English’ with ‘white’ has a certain justification in that, for obvious historical and demographic reasons, most English are white, just as most Nigerians are black and most Chinese are Chinese – except for the Uyghurs who the ethnic Chinese are currently waging genocide against. Which means that those parts of England which are predominately English will also be predominately white. But it has the effect, doubtless intentional, of tarring anyone who deploys the term ‘English’ as a marker of identity in a political or cultural sense as racist – as someone who would prefer to see ‘England for the English’ and institute a colour bar that excludes any other races or ethnicities. Whereas to identify as English is essentially a cultural phenomenon marking a person’s immersion in a distinctive culture and characteristic set of sensibilities, and as such is open to those of any race or colour.
The quality of ‘whiteness’ is therefore incidental, for being white evidently does not make one English. My desire to be among the English is certainly not a desire to be among white people. For if Devon were populated by Slovaks, or Poles, or Danes, or even Russians, I would have no special desire to go and live there – though, admittedly, there are good historical and cultural reasons for the English to feel a certain affinity with the Danes. It is simply the desire to be among people with whom I can feel at home and speak freely, preferably in English, without fear of causing offence. Which necessarily means people who share the same broad culture, values, manners, customs, shared memories and sense of a common past. Which in my case means people whose culture and civilisation is English, and who feel a deep affinity for England and its landscape for that reason.
In fact, this makes me no different to any Muslim or Sikh who chooses to socialise with, and live among, other Muslims or Sikhs in those distinct Muslim or Sikh communities that form, we are told incessantly, an integral part of our vibrantly diverse multicultural society, and which we are constantly enjoined to celebrate. Indeed, Lord Parekh, our foremost apostle of multiculturalism, termed the resulting patchwork a ‘community of communities’ in his landmark report on the future of multi-ethnic Britain. In which case, let the English – by which I mean all those who identify as English – merely be granted the same privilege as Muslims, Sikhs, and sundry other ethnic groups.
It is just a pity that I, and others like me, must migrate in the first place.
