NATIONALITY cannot just be defined by a passport or a place of birth. It is a far more complex and passionate notion that has divided human kind since man created territorial boundaries.
Being Jersey-born is, for many Islanders such as me, a nationalistic conundrum. My passport is European – British, to all intents and purposes, because my father was born in Liverpool – and it affords me the same rights as any citizen of the European Union.
Coming from ‘mixed stock’, I have long pondered my own sense of nationality and nationhood, especially as I have far more close relatives living in the UK than I do in the Island.
I am a first-generation Islander on my father’s side, and third on my mother’s, and describe myself as a Scouse-Geordie-Norman-Bean, as that best covers the ethnicity of my grandparents. English, with Welsh roots on the paternal side, yet solid Jersey and Norman ancestry from my mother.
So it was with a mixture of mistrust and trepidation that I read of the Constitutional Review Group’s blueprint for independence – insurance policy against unwanted outside interference or not. Could, or most importantly, should Jersey go it alone?
When the last census was taken in 2001 a total of 53 per cent of the 87,186 strong population were Jersey-born, but bear in mind that only 7,000 were categorised as true Channel Islanders with no rights to an EU passport.
Thirty-six per cent were born elsewhere in the British Isles (Jersey is not part of the UK or Great Britain), one per cent were French born, six per cent were Portuguese and three per cent from elsewhere.
Since that census was taken, however, the population has risen to 90,800, including a new community of about 2,000 Poles.
These statistics show the plain truth: that ‘true’ Islanders are a minority nation in their own home and have been for many years, since the anglicisation of the Island began in the 19th century, increasingly so in the post-Liberation era.
The Bailiwick of Jersey is a British Crown dependency whose allegiance is to the English Crown, not the British government, as it has been since King John lost his ancestral lands in France in 1204. Notwithstanding the close proximity and visibility of France and the predominance of French place names, I grew up totally anglicised, never learning Jèrriais even though it was my maternal grandparents’ first language.
Local history was not on my school curriculum, so the knowledge I have of the Island’s place in history grew from a natural inquisitiveness to learn about my surroundings, and latterly from my days as a news reporter.
From an early age I have set my watch to the chimes of Big Ben. I read national daily newspapers, watch national television and listen to national radio. My day starts and ends with Radio 4. At times I feel as English as any one who lives in the Home Counties, the Midlands or the North-East.
I also take a keen interest in local affairs and the world’s news, but these are always secondary to the national context.
My surname is old English, and although it originates in Northumberland in the Middle Ages, Thelwells are clustered in the north-west of the UK around Cheshire, north Wales and Merseyside.
Technically I am British, yet I feel and describe myself as English. I am not unusual in defining my nationality according to family roots. For example, the St Patrick Day celebrations that take place all over the world involve people who have never visited the land of the forefathers, and are proof that a sense of nation and nationality, for those of Irish descent, persists down the generations.
Now, don’t take my personal sense of nationality to brand me a traitor to Jersey or an excuse to book my passage on the first boat out in the morning. Jersey is where I was born and I am proud of the Island’s history and eagerness to be counted on the world stage. Nonetheless, I am a product of my upbringing, education and socialisation and a childhood spent listening to and watching the BBC and reading book upon book about British history.
While independence may sound appealing, and could be used by politicians to divert attention from all the other pressing issues, the idea of breaking the ties which have served us well for more than 800 years deserves as wide-ranging consultation as the Clothier proposals and, without doubt, a referendum. Independence may appear appealing on paper, but blood ties, national sentiments and loyalty run deep across the generations.
Such a life-changing, society-changing decision should not be left to review groups or politicians. If my nationality is to be changed by redefining Jersey’s constitutional status, then I want the right to be part of that process – no matter what the consequences for the Island’s economy.
Danger in being of independent means
NATIONALITY cannot just be defined by a passport or a place of birth. It is a far more complex and passionate notion that has divided human kind since man created territorial boundaries.
Being Jersey-born is, for many Islanders such as me, a nationalistic conundrum. My passport is European – British, to all intents and purposes, because my father was born in Liverpool – and it affords me the same rights as any citizen of the European Union.
Coming from ‘mixed stock’, I have long pondered my own sense of nationality and nationhood, especially as I have far more close relatives living in the UK than I do in the Island.
I am a first-generation Islander on my father’s side, and third on my mother’s, and describe myself as a Scouse-Geordie-Norman-Bean, as that best covers the ethnicity of my grandparents. English, with Welsh roots on the paternal side, yet solid Jersey and Norman ancestry from my mother.
So it was with a mixture of mistrust and trepidation that I read of the Constitutional Review Group’s blueprint for independence – insurance policy against unwanted outside interference or not. Could, or most importantly, should Jersey go it alone?
When the last census was taken in 2001 a total of 53 per cent of the 87,186 strong population were Jersey-born, but bear in mind that only 7,000 were categorised as true Channel Islanders with no rights to an EU passport.
Thirty-six per cent were born elsewhere in the British Isles (Jersey is not part of the UK or Great Britain), one per cent were French born, six per cent were Portuguese and three per cent from elsewhere.
Since that census was taken, however, the population has risen to 90,800, including a new community of about 2,000 Poles.
These statistics show the plain truth: that ‘true’ Islanders are a minority nation in their own home and have been for many years, since the anglicisation of the Island began in the 19th century, increasingly so in the post-Liberation era.
The Bailiwick of Jersey is a British Crown dependency whose allegiance is to the English Crown, not the British government, as it has been since King John lost his ancestral lands in France in 1204. Notwithstanding the close proximity and visibility of France and the predominance of French place names, I grew up totally anglicised, never learning Jèrriais even though it was my maternal grandparents’ first language.
Local history was not on my school curriculum, so the knowledge I have of the Island’s place in history grew from a natural inquisitiveness to learn about my surroundings, and latterly from my days as a news reporter.
From an early age I have set my watch to the chimes of Big Ben. I read national daily newspapers, watch national television and listen to national radio. My day starts and ends with Radio 4. At times I feel as English as any one who lives in the Home Counties, the Midlands or the North-East.
I also take a keen interest in local affairs and the world’s news, but these are always secondary to the national context.
My surname is old English, and although it originates in Northumberland in the Middle Ages, Thelwells are clustered in the north-west of the UK around Cheshire, north Wales and Merseyside.
Technically I am British, yet I feel and describe myself as English. I am not unusual in defining my nationality according to family roots. For example, the St Patrick Day celebrations that take place all over the world involve people who have never visited the land of the forefathers, and are proof that a sense of nation and nationality, for those of Irish descent, persists down the generations.
Now, don’t take my personal sense of nationality to brand me a traitor to Jersey or an excuse to book my passage on the first boat out in the morning. Jersey is where I was born and I am proud of the Island’s history and eagerness to be counted on the world stage. Nonetheless, I am a product of my upbringing, education and socialisation and a childhood spent listening to and watching the BBC and reading book upon book about British history.
While independence may sound appealing, and could be used by politicians to divert attention from all the other pressing issues, the idea of breaking the ties which have served us well for more than 800 years deserves as wide-ranging consultation as the Clothier proposals and, without doubt, a referendum. Independence may appear appealing on paper, but blood ties, national sentiments and loyalty run deep across the generations.
Such a life-changing, society-changing decision should not be left to review groups or politicians. If my nationality is to be changed by redefining Jersey’s constitutional status, then I want the right to be part of that process – no matter what the consequences for the Island’s economy.
Article posted on 10th July, 2008 - 3.00pm