Our national identity depends. There’s a consequence in being the less populous neighbour, and the New Zealand or the Canadian traveller may have a badge of their flag sewn on their backpack to avoid being taken for an Australian or an American.
It’s more complex when nationalities live in a nation. Whether Taiwan is or is not part of China is a question of our era; other certainties are only recent; as late as 4 October 1830 the Belgians declared their independence from the Netherlands. The peaceful co-existence in which so many of us trust can be shattered in a moment; on 4 October 2003 the Maxim restaurant bombing in Haifa killed Israeli diners both Jewish and Arab.
The England of St George is a recent invention. An Anatolian soldier only displaced other and older saints in the Reformation; Shakespeare was merely passing on the vibe when his Henry V cried “Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry ‘God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'”. The side story of the dragon reached western Europe from the Crusades and may have been an impetus for England’s eventual discovery of its patron.
Parallel with this England of Tudor times was the Wales of the Red Dragon. Henry VII’s narrative as victor of the War of the Roses included a lineage from the 7th century Welsh king Cadwaladr and his badge was the “Red Dragon of Cadwallader”. All of which conveniently fitted with the English king’s 200 year old personal power to grant “Prince of Wales” to the heir apparent.
A source of power for the father became a focus for power in the son. Henry VIII took time off from the Reformation to pass his Laws in Wales Act:
His Highness therefore of a singular Zeal, Love and Favour that he beareth towards his Subjects of his said Dominion of Wales, minding and intending to reduce them to the perfect Order, Notice and Knowledge of his Laws of this Realm, and utterly to extirp all and singular the sinister Usages and Customs differing from the same, and to bring the said Subjects of this his Realm, and of his said Dominion of Wales, to an amicable Concord and Unity…
And so…
… his said Country or Dominion of Wales shall be, stand and continue for ever from henceforth incorporated, united and annexed to and with this his Realm of England…
This state of affairs was in place in the Civil War; a half century later in 1707 the King of England – including Wales – became King of Great Britain upon union with Scotland.
When Oliver Cromwell died, he had no Prince of Wales; his son Richard was nonetheless successor. In an telling turn of phrase for those who confuse a republic with a democracy, Richard’s title was:
His Most Serene Highness By the Grace of God, Lord Protector of the Commonwealth of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and the Dominions thereunto belonging.
Richard Cromwell was born on 4 October 1626. Until the late Queen Elizabeth II passed his age of death in 2012, he had been the longest-lived of modern English – or is that Welsh? – rulers.
