A spirited exchange between the former editor of The Spectator, Fraser Nelson, and comedian Konstantin Kisin has sparked a debate hotter than a vindaloo on a summer’s day: Who gets to be English? It’s a question that deserves an answer.
Let’s be clear: I have the greatest respect for Konstantin Kisin—a sharp mind and sharper wit. But on this occasion, I find myself waving the St George’s flag firmly in Fraser Nelson’s camp.
You see, I, too, believe that those born in England, raised within its customs, and steeped in its culture can be—yes—English. Not just British. English.
Kisin, whose views I normally find refreshingly incisive, declared that his own son—born in England to a Russian and a Ukrainian—could never be English. British, yes. But English? Never. Why? Because, he says, being English has an ethnic undertone.
With all due respect, I must say: Nonsense!
England’s history is a tapestry woven from the threads of countless arrivals—Angles, Saxons, Vikings, Normans, Huguenots, Irish, and many more. Were they less English for having once been outsiders? If so, England’s entire lineage is a just patchwork of foreigners. Yet, from this rich, multicultural brew emerged what we call the English character—pragmatic, humorous, and, crucially, open to newcomers who embrace the land and its lore.
The notion that Englishness is confined to bloodlines belongs in the dustbin of history. My own mother was born in England to Irish immigrant parents. So, would Kisin tell her to her face that she isn’t English? I’d like to see him try.
Her blood may be purely Irish, but her soul is undeniably English—rooted in this island’s humour, history, literature, art, and, let’s not forget, her characteristically English stiff upper lip. To claim she is only British, but not English, would be to deny the very essence of her identity.
She’s as English as they come—Coventry born and bred—and believe me, she cheers louder than a banshee when England scores in the rugby or football… even against Ireland!
However, Mahyar Tousi, whom I also greatly admire disagrees and has compared it to a blonde German born in Japan, insisting they wouldn’t be Japanese. But Mahyar, Japan is not England. England, unlike Japan, has long been a cultural melting pot—an island forged by waves of migration and a history of welcoming those willing to integrate and call it home.
To be clear here, integration is key. It means coming here legally, supporting yourself, contributing to society where possible, obeying the law, and embracing our shared values.
Legally, none of us can officially be ‘English’ of course—only British. Englishness is not a line in a passport; it is a line in the heart. It is cultural, emotional, and social—a living identity, not a legal technicality.
British nationality is the legal category, encompassing all from this sceptred isle. But Englishness? That is something you earn through your life, your loves, your loyalties. It is not sealed in the blood, but in the bond—the bond to this land, its people, and its way of life. So I firmly believe whether your parents are from India, the Caribbean, Outer Mongolia or my own mother with Irish blood running through her, of course you can be English, especially if you’re lucky enough to be born here in the greatest country on earth. This is your land.
The attempt to gatekeep Englishness by DNA is, frankly, a folly. England’s great strength has always been its ability to evolve and to welcome those who embrace its customs and its quirks.
So let us not shrink Englishness into something narrow and exclusive. Let us celebrate it as something grand and inclusive—a cultural inheritance passed not only from parent to child but from society to soul.
After all, the truest measure of an Englishman or woman is not their ancestry—but their tea-brewing technique, their ability to queue politely, and their unfailing commitment to moaning about the weather.
And on that, I dare say, we can all agree.
Claire Bullivant
