A disunited kingdom

Bartholomew Owl
4 min readJun 15, 2019

When was the last time you felt any kind of collective pride in being ‘British’? For me, it was only 7 years ago, but it feels like a lifetime.

It’s certainly arguable, but I feel that the last time the United Kingdom felt any kind of national pride — any feeling of collective unity for the nation as a whole — was during Danny Boyle’s opening ceremony for the 2012 London Olympics. I remember watching transfixed — feeling proud, inspired and and hopeful. I remember it being the first thing everyone talked about in work the next day.

So what now of this United Kingdom? Do I feel anything of that collective hope that lit up the nation in August 2012?

I was born in Northern Ireland. My passport (my current passport, the one I’m replacing) says I’m British. However, it also has the words ‘United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland’ on the cover. Clearly Northern Ireland is not part of Great Britain — or at the very least, is a sub-category. Also I’ve now lived in Scotland for longer than I lived in Northern Ireland. Edinburgh now feels like home to me. Does that make me more Scottish?

When people ask me where I’m from, I tell them I’m Irish. I do this for two reasons.

One: in the collective consciousness, Ireland is a nation of drunks and artists, whereas Northern Ireland is a nation of terrorists. I have loved watching Northern Ireland flourishing in the years since I left — and sure, we can now add ‘Game of Thrones’ and ‘The Titanic Museum’ to the list, but the first thing people generally think about when they think of Northern Ireland is still terrorism.

Which leads to the second reason why I tell people I’m Irish. If I say I’m from Northern Ireland, the natural next subject of that conversation is violence, and things I would rather not talk about with someone I’m literally meeting for the first time.

So I tell people I’m Irish. But I don’t feel it, not really. For one thing, my knowledge of Irish geography is virtually non-existent. But it’s easier to avoid a conversation about geography than it is to avoid one about ‘The Troubles’.

I’ve only visited the Republic of Ireland a handful of times. I remember the first trip was to Dublin with my High School. I always think of the piece of advice an older relative offered me for the trip: “Don’t spend any money down there. They’re fenians.”

It was meant as a joke. But like all jokes - there was a kernel of truth. The comment shocked me then, and it still shocks me now. Not least because this relative is an intelligent, sensitive person. But these are the values they had inherited. They had never actually visited Dublin themselves. In fact they’d never left Northern Ireland — their life focussing around Church every Sunday, and being an active member of the same Orange Lodge both their father and grandfather had been a member.

And amongst my friends at High School, I feel that we regurgitated those same values too, because we didn’t see the impact of our words. We didn’t fully understand the implications of the phrases we were using or the history we were invoking. It wasn’t until I moved to Scotland that I gained some distance and perspective.

And so Northern Ireland remains a thorn in the side of Great Britain. It’s clear most on the ‘mainland’ don’t fully understand the situation there, or the implications of politicians who now seek to change the Good Friday Agreement in an attempt to secure ‘Brexit’ — to salvage unity from this disunited kingdom. But it’s a fallacy.

They talk of a “technological solution” to the Irish border. There is no “technological solution” to the Irish border. In many ways, it’s the inevitable response to the problem in this era of Trumpian politics. “If we get the smartest people in the room, and throw enough money at them, they’ll come up with a solution.”

But money and intelligence won’t solve the problem — at least not alone. It’s going to take empathy, understanding, and respect. And I’ve see little evidence of these at any point of the debate around Brexit.

The 2012 Olympics was the 3rd time that the games was held in the UK. I now wonder what a 4th ceremony would look like. Would there be even be a United Kingdom left to celebrate?

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