We hear a great deal about the various “communities” that make up the grand disjointed patchwork of modern Britain. All of our country’s major institutions — the government, the civil service, the corporations, the NGOs, the media, academia, and so on — centre those communities who possess, as far as they are concerned, the requisite intersectional credentials. From the trans community to the immigrant community, the gay community to the black community, you need only step into a Waterstones, browse BBC Sounds, or watch the adverts shown on TV to understand the extent to which the values and concerns of these groups are prioritised. Whether done in the name of social justice or in service of ESG scores, it is undeniable that the market has been, as critical race theorist Charles R. Lawrence III would say, “flooded with their stories”.

Does it not strike you as strange that, in England, we hear more about these communities than we do the English community? The phrase itself — “the English community” — is not one we ever hear the institutions of power use. In fact, our elites rarely speak of the English at all. Yet, we have a far more persuasive claim to being a community than any of the elites’ client groups which are, in the final analysis, little more than abstract categories. What exactly does it mean to be a member of, for example, “the immigrant community”? To assume that two people will feel a sense of kinship by dint of their status as immigrants betrays a terribly simplistic view of the world. The same is true of all the “communities” that the regime has chosen to elevate; abstract categories of disparate people, united by a single arbitrary characteristic and little more.

The English, on the other hand, share a land, a language, a history, a culture, and a set of common concerns. We maintain our ancient tribal traditions despite the plastic aesthetics of modernity as demonstrated by the funeral of Queen Elizabeth II and the coronation of King Charles III. We are a distinct people, recognisable the world over. We are, in the proper sense of the word, a community.

Englishness is not a rational concept. It cannot be expressed in the quantitative language of science, summarised in a spreadsheet, or abstracted into a formula. Even the most florid prose cannot truly capture its essence; it is something felt, something experienced, something entirely irreducible. There is a depth to the concept of Englishness that frightens our managerial masters, and they would prefer that the English community remains asleep.

But we will not. Contrary to claims made by some anti-woke types, embracing one’s identity on the basis of group membership is not inherently evil. Groups exist, and group identity is inescapable. The individualism peddled by the likes of Jordan Peterson can provide some sustenance in our spiritually emaciated age, but it cannot compare to the nourishment that genuine community can bring. Personal responsibility is important, but it means little if one lives in a state of total atomisation.

Many find themselves in such a position, drifting through the wilderness of the modern world. We are told that we are more connected than ever, yet many have never felt more alone. The churning, roiling, transient nature of things discourages the formation of sentimental attachments. The masses — especially the young — yearn for a sense of belonging. It is therefore no surprise that our elite seek to placate this by speaking in the language of community; but the community they offer is thin, abstract, and ultimately meaningless. Genuine community, and the loyalty to place and people it fosters, is something they fear. And rightly so; they regard our isles not as an ancient and storied ancestral homeland, but as an economic platform to be understood in terms of profit and loss. Quaint notions of love and loyalty to home and folk are an obstacle to the optimisation of the balance sheets, and so must be dispensed with.

The ruling class regard us as a problem to be solved, and the English community is waking up to this reality. This land is our home, yet we have no voice in the mainstream discourse. In a world of communities, why should the English not have a seat at the table? Let us say to the powers that be, with conviction and aplomb, that in our homeland it is proper and just to centre the experience of the English community.