Earlier this year, I visited the Tower of London for the late night tour, conducted by one of Her Majesty’s Beefeaters. Before it began, the Beefeater looked for a show of hands of French, Scottish or German, with a devious glint in his eye; when no-one raised their hands, he began to tear into all three nationalities.
Half-way through the evening I realised Ireland hadn't been mentioned much, nor had we been insulted. My friend, who is Irish but raised in London, laughed and explained that as the Irish were never a threat to England, they are never ridiculed in this way. Up to that point, I had always thought we were rivals, but apparently the English are more likely to view us as their endearing little cousin.
As Ireland never made much of a mark in England’s colourful history of battles, we feature very little in their school history books. Unless you meet someone with a penchant for history, they are quite unaware of the relationship between the two neighbours.
The majority of English people I meet are quite curious as to why the Irish hold such a strong hatred for the English, why we shudder and curse when Cromwell’s name is mentioned, and get terribly frustrated when asked “why didn’t you just keep those six counties?”
Perhaps above all, they are utterly bewildered when we always cheer for their every opponent in sport, and why we never give them 12 points in the Eurovision.
But why do we still always wish for England to lose at everything? Do we still hold a genuine, justified grievance?
While watching England play Australia in the Rugby World Cup last weekend, without a second thought, I gave a little cheer every time Australia scored - just in jest, I said to my friends over from Ireland. But my friend's dad pointed out that, if England were to get kicked out of the World Cup, it would result in huge losses for the publicans here, and lesser support overall for the rest of the World Cup in England.
For the first time, I questioned my innate desire for the English team to lose, realising that if they did, the corpse of Cromwell wouldn’t be tortured by any means, but the economy would be affected in the country I currently reside in, where I plan to stay for the foreseeable future. I was being ignorant, blindly following suit with the “hate the English” attitude I had been surrounded by growing up.
Last year during the Fifa World Cup, on the day England played Uruguay, I received a text from a primary school teacher friend. Her class of eight- and nine-year-olds were making flags to represent a team playing that day. Apart from two kids with English connections, every child wanted to make a Uruguay flag. When asked why, they all said they hated England and wanted Uruguay to beat them. They wanted to know all about Uruguay, basking in a newfound love for a country most couldn’t place on a map.
Like me, and generations of other Irish children, these kids have been brought up to “hate the English”. They adopt this ignorant attitude without questioning it, because it is all around them.
As an Irish immigrant living in London, I have been welcomed with open arms from every English person I have encountered since I moved here a year and a half ago, whether it be at work, socially, or just going about my day-to-day life.
We really need to rethink how we view and treat England, a country that has become a second home to so many of us Irish. We need to let go of these grudges that are no longer relevant. While the majority of adults are aware that the jokes and jibes are mostly made in jest, the children of Ireland need to be raised with more of a sense of camaraderie and respect for our nearest neighbours.
I would like if we all took a fresh new approach to our relationship with England, especially with the imminent anniversary of 1916 approaching. Let us embrace our history, our troubled past and go forth with a new and open attitude.
