This is the first post I’ve ever written that doesn’t concern Scotland, or some grievance or whatnot. That’s progress, perhaps, because this blog has only ever been about Scotland. Never about Celtic culture, or other Celtic nations. Not because I didn’t care about them, but because they didn’t need me fighting their battles.
But this is a battle that needs to be fought.
Now, I’ve given Cornwall a hard time in previous posts. And I’m by no means a naive Pan-Celtic subscriber either, so I don’t feel the need to garner any such vapid goodwill as a result. Such a thing is nonsense to me, and so I’ve given them a hard time about their attempts to co-opt the Kilt, and other elements of Scottish culture etc, and I wholeheartedly stand by my previous derision. But, that does not mean that I don’t wholeheartedly believe in their right to determine, and assert, their unique identity as that of being different to the English.
My irritation, even, in regards to their shamefaced co-opting of my culture, still would not preclude me from acknowledging their Celtic identity, although, as I’ve said, I’ve never been one to ascribe to the whole Pan-Celtic movement, for our people’s and cultures are too disparate and unique, I would, however, certainly support the revival of their actual culture, language and identity, for to lose all that, when they are indeed just different enough from the English, would be a genocide. The true erasure of an entire people is an unspeakable thing. And so to lose the Cornishman in a sea of English, would be, quite frankly, a horrendous travesty, as well as a sore loss to the colourful fabric of the British Isles.
They are a people, after all.
They are Cornishmen, and so have every God given right to remain as such, and to continue on as such, wether as freemen, or within England still. I’m no fan of petty regional division however, for to me an established nation is an established nation and so that would be up to England and Cornwall alone to decide, but I’m not advocating for the breaking up of England in any way. Regardless, it is imperative that more is done to safeguard and build them up as a Cornish people and Cornish nation. No less for the fact that they have clung so dearly to that identity, and for so long despite all the odds stacked against them. A feat worthy of respect, and deserving of reward.
The right to exist as themselves, should be suitable enough.
The thing is though, they are dying. Their nation is dying. Their communities are dying; a polluted heathland, a rotting oak, cliffs crumbling into the ocean. They, as a nation, or culture or people have no agency in their future whatsoever, and are totally at the mercy of a country who barely acknowledges their existence other than that they are a spit of land at the very end of their own. And there is nothing the Cornish can do about it, trapped by the restrictions of the modern world, rendering their individual patriotism impotent, and the crushing weight of being outnumbered by outsiders in their own land overwhelming.
A land with enough defeated souls already, as to render their extinction easily wrought through apathy alone.
A bleak prospect, no doubt, for any people or person to contemplate, let alone correct, as they witness everything that makes them them crumble. And so believe me when I say, I sympathise with their plight. But, this decimation they face can be reversed, and their wounds can be healed. They just need time. And they need change. Real change. They need to kick out the 2nd homeowners, the “Emmets” and put restrictions in place to safeguard their villages and towns from once again being over run by holiday home owners, to free themselves of seasonal parasites whom descend upon their fragile communities and rape them of the chance to flourish year round.
Even a cruel master knows when his dog has been beaten enough. So surely a tourist knows when to pick up their litter.
But, of course, the English do not care, for they arrive in the sun and leave in the rain, never thinking that their presence is damage enough to the man who lives next door to their holiday home, and that by shutting its door and locking its windows for the rest of the year, they deprive that man his children, his grandchildren even, an opportunity to grow up among family, and to remain in a community, to build and nurture it. They come and fill their roads like a slurry, and beep their horns and churn their beaches and then simply leave, spent.
Retreating back to their real homes satisfied and renewed whilst those who fed them starve.
For as much as I loathe the ignorant cultural melting pot notion that is Pan-Celtisim, I still have an active interest in the other Celtic Nations. I have a soft spot for them, a fondness even, and a very real appreciation for their history, language, customs, politics and peculiarities that I feel for no other peoples. The other Celts are not my brothers and sisters, but they are my family. This is why I’ve written this inconsequential post. I care about my fellow Celts, and I truly want what’s best for the Celtic World as a whole. We are small, and so should stick together, even in simple congenial brotherhood.
Reforge whatever chains of gold might still be left and link our green shores tighter than ever before.
For the Brittonic Celts, ancestors of the Cornish, are a part of Scotland’s story too, their ancient links to the Picts and to the Alt Clut testament to that. There are bonds between our nations, and with the Welsh also. Not so strong as those we have with our ancient Irish ancestors, but there nonetheless. We are Celts, wether Gaelic or Pictish or Brittonic, or an amalgamation of all three.
And so we other Celts should care.
But we won’t, and there isn’t really anything we can do anyway. And so I suppose then, that this is a plea, at the very least, for a basic appreciation and understanding of what Cornwall is, why it is, and what we can all do as Emmets, to help it to continue to be.
And that is to just be aware of it.
Now of course, my words mean nothing, and no action will be taken on account of them, but I cannot stand by and say nothing (Despite my grievances with some Cornish patriots) and watch as an entirely interesting and unique people fade into history, to be replaced then by the gray uniformity of an unfeeling, uncaring England whose locust-like ignorance blinds them to the destruction they herald.
The very eradication of an entire people, and all so that they, the Emmets, can enjoy their wee bit beach and chippie.
Cinead MacAlpine.
nuairathigairduinethigairuile 