‘As tedious as a tired horse…worse than a smoky house’ was how Shakespeare’s Hotspur described Wales’s national hero, Owain Glyndŵr. Perhaps, as the late Jan Morris wrote of these words for The Spectator, it could be a timeless characteristic of all Welshmen. The Welsh can be defensive, melancholic and (whisper it quietly) prone to self-pity, particularly when it comes to relations with England. Having the English next door, medieval conquerors turned modern ignorant neighbours, will always transfix Welsh imagination and provoke tension.
Yet how futile Anglo-Welsh relations have become that the modern-day battlefield of two nations with a rich, shared history, has been entangled into the culture war, with the ‘renaming’ of the Brecon Beacons national park. Few issues have stirred such indignation among English (and Welsh) Tory MPs, and the fringes of the chattering class, as much as calling the park Bannau Brycheiniog: its indigenous Welsh name.
Why is there such a natural instinct to resent the Welsh language?
‘Insane’ was the conclusion of one unhappy columnist at the national park’s name, as others decried British society’s descent into ‘wokery’ and ‘mental illness’. ‘We are losing our minds,’ Nigel Farage captioned his tweet to an article with the headline ‘Brecon Beacons to be renamed over links to climate change’.
A fixation with the decision to scrap the park’s logo featuring a burning wood brazier overlooks the fact that Bannau’s updated management plan will seek to reverse declines in wildlife species and reach net-zero. Also missing from the debate is the acknowledgement that no renaming has taken place; Welsh is the language of the place and land, with Bannau Brycheiniog evoking ancient King Brychan and the area’s mountain peaks.
Forgive me, then, for suspecting a more sinister whiff of bigotry lurking behind this bizarre saga, seldom called out as plainly as it should. It was identified by Morris in her column as ‘Welsh baiting’, a behaviour that I have chronicled in these pages as still prevalent and socially accepted. Modern-day Cymrophobia – towards its people but especially Cymraeg – have never been so fashionable. English columnists are always expected to be provocative, and the Welsh language is an easy target for both the left and right. A ‘moribund language’ one contributor to the Critic wrote last year; the Guardian’s Zoe Williams has deemed learning Welsh as pointless as ‘eating cottage cheese.’
Why is there such a natural instinct to resent the Welsh language? The language has endured unreasonable smears before (by its own people and others). Poisonous myths that native speakers enjoy conversing in pubs and cafés together once a non-native speaker walks in will surely continue, too. But the adage, often quipped by an Englishman with a smirk, that it is a dying language, a hobby, a waste of time, is losing ground: Welsh is one of the top 50 most influential languages in the world, according to latest edition of the World Language Barometer, and with over half a million speakers Cymraeg is in the top 7 per cent of languages spoken across the world.
Perhaps this is what concerns detractors of Cymraeg, and in turn opponents of Bannau. In post-Brexit Britain, where England continues to determine the shape of government in London and seems ideologically trapped in glories gone by, an ambitious and provocative place for Cymraeg is alien or even a threat. The strength of national campaigns, backed by a left-leaning nation-building Welsh government, to protect the language are gathering pace, including ensuring second home owners do not erase Welsh place names. Some Conservatives have decried the ‘symbolic’ and ‘trendy’ move to rename the Brecon Beacons. But these same critics overlook the international appeal of the language – as demonstrated by Wrexham football club owners Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney – which showcases why Wales is not, after all, part of England.
Yet the Welsh do not favour confrontation on Bannau or the language more widely. Rather, I suspect this patriotic people would welcome a celebration of its culture as part of a revitalised British project. Swansea University professor Martin Johnes makes the point that English conservatives, in particular, should capitalise on celebrating the Britishness of Welsh, a language that continues to be spoken across these isles in what is a reminder of ancient antiquity. But does such a conservatism, grounded in intellect and understanding of shared British history, exist? Downing Street’s response to this recent furore – criticising the scrapping of the logo and insisting Brecon Beacons will still be used by visitors – suggests not.
The consequences of dismissing place names, and by association the Welsh language, are grave in political terms. YesCymru, the independence campaign group, has revelled in sharing reactions to the decision around Bannau. Support for their cause remains in the minority, at around 30 per cent, but support among young Welsh people is strong. Welsh nationalists will always struggle to make the argument for independence in the absence of a clear path to a referendum in Scotland, but they are made easier by any taunts of the people of Wales, especially its culture and language.
A cautionary note is that no serious person is suggesting that ‘Brecon Beacons’ will not be used by visitors in the future. Wales remains a bilingual nation. But it is one that is increasingly confident, happy to be governing its own affairs for the first time in centuries, and to co-exist with its neighbour as a small nation that has a distinctive culture it can develop on its own terms.
Jan Morris, writing with some of that Welsh melancholy in 2009, still worried that the rear-guard action of the Welsh was never really going to succeed in the face of the English and the tide of history. I am not so sure. People may not like the name Bannau Brycheiniog, dubbing it political correctness or part of a new tide of wokery. Before the Welsh sulked at such treatment as an affront to their culture. But now, more than ever, they look forward to promoting their culture and language. In turn, they expect a hostile reaction from certain sections of British society. But their response is simple, in the spirit of a historic British maxim: keep calm and carry on.
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