Is British history too woke? This historian certainly thinks so

Critics like to cast Britain as a global villain. Yet a truly honest, rational assessment of the facts can only lead to a more positive conclusion, writes Robert Tombs

Historical black-and-white photograph of four cheering service members and civilians celebrating outdoors while spinning noisemakers and waving flags

Published: November 5, 2026 at 11:30 AM

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A shared sense of history can help to make a diversity of individuals, of different ages, backgrounds, sexes and races, into a group with a feeling of belonging across generations. Few have written as perceptively on this as Edmund Burke, in Reflections on the Revolution in France (1790). Burke praised what he provocatively termed “prejudices” – unthinking affection for family, place, community, nation. These were what enabled a free society to function. Without such feelings, he said, government can only depend on force.

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Not everyone today – to put it mildly – agrees that fostering a sense of belonging, especially national belonging, is desirable. Better to aim at a cosmopolitan feeling of world citizenship. Even those who might accept some version of Burke’s objective pursue it in very different ways. Some seem to see national history as a therapeutic exercise for favoured groups. Hence, they create narratives that magnify or even invent desired themes. Others think that more aggressive forms of what they call ‘facing up to the past’ and ‘decolonising’ will break down any sense of national superiority and facilitate the emergence of a multicultural society.

These are political or, in some cases, ethical choices. My own choice would be to try to tell an honest and balanced story, based on firm scholarship (which does not necessarily mean fashionable scholarship), which recognises that the histories of England and, later, Britain and the United Kingdom are complex, containing both triumphs and disasters, moral victories and moral defeats. I believe that history should be about understanding the past, and that we should aim to appreciate what our predecessors were trying to do with far inferior resources to ours. The last thing we should aim at is 21st-century self-congratulation. We might occasionally be horrified by the past, but we should respect its people, and learn some gratitude and a sense of our own responsibility within what Burke called a contract between the dead, the living and the unborn.

Some readers might think this is obvious, so to them I need say no more. Others might think it impossible, first because history has always been used for partisan purposes, and second, because they regard objectivity as an illusion, if not a colonialist manoeuvre.

Undeniably, Britain’s past is widely under attack, both from outside the country and from inside its own institutions. One reason for this – which we cannot escape – is that because of the country’s long history of prominence on the world stage we are cast as the villains in many countries’ origin myths. Even for friendly democracies such as the United States and Australia, separation from Britain was part of their national coming of age. It is a similar story for India, much of Africa and Ireland. For frankly hostile countries, too, such as China, Russia and Iran, history is often used as a weapon against us – sometimes justly, sometimes not.

There is no reason why we should accept others’ nationalistic myths as true, although we often tend to do so. For example, we generally accept the American saga of their independence as a struggle of freedom against British tyranny, forgetting that Indigenous peoples and enslaved Africans overwhelmingly supported Britain. Many people believe the argument that Britain did nothing to alleviate the Irish potato famine of the 1840s – or that Britain even created it. Yet, in July 1847, the British exchequer was feeding 3 million people every day, and overall famine relief equalled a sixth of total state spending, in addition to huge popular donations.

8th-century watercolor illustration depiction of three Revolutionary War soldiers standing in different military uniforms holding bayoneted muskets

A depiction of a black soldier fighting for American independence. Robert Tombs argues that, in fact, enslaved Africans overwhelmingly supported Britain during that conflict | Credit: Alamy

It may be desirable to express regret for aspects of our history (as the late Queen did so tactfully in Ireland). But we should contest false narratives for our own sakes and indeed for the sakes of our interlocutors. Such narratives are often used by oppressive, corrupt or incompetent regimes as excuses for, or distraction from, their own failings and misdeeds. Blaming the British is a fraud on their own people.

Our history has indeed always been used to make ideological arguments. The Jarrow monk, Bede, propagated the idea that the English people came into being by accepting Christianity. So-called ‘Whig history’, originating in the 18th century, was the most influential school of modern times, despite being long ago debunked. It presented the history of Britain (really England) as a long struggle for freedom against the crown, with parliament at its heart. It may seem a positive and even flattering story, but it is a distortion, which misunderstands motives, downplays unity, and ignores the achievements of the kingdom in maintaining peace and security.

A socialist school in the late 19th century stressed exploitation and the horrors of the industrial revolution, and this continued strongly until at least the 1970s, sometimes expressing regret that Britain – unlike Soviet Russia – had not enjoyed the benefits of revolution. Like Whig history, it still has followers. It, too, is a distortion, ignoring the fact that Britain was a wealthy country by the standards of its time, and that its people enjoyed a high standard of living in a remarkably non-violent society. In particular, deadly violence by the state against its own people was rare. The 1819 ‘Peterloo massacre’ – when cavalry charged a Manchester crowd listening to political speeches – is notorious because unique.

Some might object that any attempt to counter ideology with evidence – as I have briefly tried to do – is an illusion or a trick. A whole philosophical ‘postmodern’ school concluded that there was no complete or ultimate truth. Perhaps not, but in writing history we are not seeking complete or ultimate truth, which is indeed far beyond our reach. But we do seek to discover and say things that are true. Most of what we know about the past is provable beyond reasonable doubt. We can undoubtedly know and understand the past better than the present. We know far more about King Charles I or William Ewart Gladstone than we do about Andy Burnham.

When interpreted loosely, postmodernist scepticism reduces history to a cacophony of assertive narratives, in which ‘my truth’ cannot be contested, and ‘lived experience’ trumps objective evidence – at least, when the partisan historian sympathises. Partisan ‘narratives’ are often chosen for their ideological or political value, justified as ‘giving a voice’ to the oppressed. This has become standard in many television history programmes.

Many people in Britain sympathise with the wish to diversify our national story, celebrate the role of minorities and represent colonial subject peoples. This may be admirable in intent, though it is noticeable that only certain areas of activity are approved and emphasised. An enormous number of words have been written on the question of whether black Roman soldiers were at Hadrian’s Wall, for example, and those immigrant groups credited with ‘making modern Britain’. I’d wager that fewer have been written on the huge numbers of Indians, West Indians and Africans who cooperated in making the empire, participated in its achievements, and fought for Britain in many wars.

Historical black-and-white photograph of three nurses in uniform decorating a pediatric hospital ward with paper garlands and a doll for a sleeping child in a crib.

Nurses decorate a child’s bed for Christmas in an Eastbourne hospital in the mid-20th century. The wish to diversify our national story is “admirable in intent”, says Robert Tombs, “but it is noticeable that only certain areas of activity are approved and emphasised” | Credit: Getty Images

Argument over history is healthy, as long as the various ‘narratives’ and ‘voices’ are open to criticism based on rationality and evidence. Today, they are often not. This is not because they are intellectually powerful, but because in certain fields of history, a new orthodoxy is wielding a greater influence on institutions, impacting the allocation of jobs, promotions and research funds. For example, the huge sums devoted to compiling lists of British slave owners – but not of campaigners against slavery – are truly astonishing.

There are two main areas in which Britain’s past is today most frequently under attack. First is slavery. Britain is accused of being the leading Atlantic slave trader, which for several decades it was. The slavery it practised is claimed to be worse than other forms of slavery (if these are mentioned at all). It is further asserted that British wealth, and the industrial revolution, were derived from slavery, and hence that Britain today owes unimaginably large sums in ‘reparations’ to the descendants of victims of slavery. The history of slavery should be properly told, and so should Britain’s uniquely prominent role in combatting it: the sustained diplomatic efforts, the long and gruelling naval patrols, the 160,000 released slaves, the financial payments to African rulers, even the military action in Africa and South America.

Argument over history is healthy, as long as various ‘voices’ are open to criticism based on evidence. Today, they are often not

Almost equally divisive in today’s debates is the British empire. This was a hugely complex episode for all the people affected, and it defies sweeping generalisation. But many commentators reject dispassionate assessment and even try to stifle it. In both popular and academic culture it is acceptable to show sympathy and even admiration for tyrants and slave traders if they were ‘victims of empire’, and to draw a veil over the misdeeds of pre- and post-colonial rulers. On the other hand, there is almost complete silence or denial concerning achievements of colonial government and the cooperation of colonial subjects in peacekeeping, trade, infrastructure, health improvements and, not least, cultural preservation. Even an undoubtedly positive result of imperial action, such as the suppression of slave trading and slavery, is at best given little attention, or dismissed as merely a pretext for exploitative colonial expansion.

19th-century watercolor illustration depicting a two-masted wooden ship packed with people on deck sailing through choppy ocean waters

A painting by a Royal Navy lieutenant shows the Portuguese slaver Diligenté with 600 enslaved people onboard, after its capture by the British ship Sloop Pearl | Credit: Topfoto

These are the areas of contention, and even of suppression and falsification, which a history of Britain told today should explore honestly. But slavery and empire are only a small part of the history of Britain. What else should it contain? I hope that the following brief summary is uncontentious and based on established scholarship. But it is, of course, my summary. If it does not contain clear lessons, at least it has ample subjects for reflection.

England and Britain have been successful and fortunate. England has rarely suffered devastating civil war or revolutionary violence. It has not been transformed by hostile invaders for nearly 1,000 years. It has never since then been ravaged by total military defeat.

Few countries have been so favoured. If geography is part of the explanation, more important has been effective government with the participation of the people long before formal democracy. Indispensable was the early growth of a deep-rooted solidarity, which has rarely entirely broken down. We saw this solidarity dramatically in two world wars, but it goes back many centuries. As Caroline Burt and Richard Partington put it in their 2024 book, Arise England, in the Middle Ages, “people mostly understood that their individual and familial prospects were best served by the security that resulted from the pursuit of common interest”. In more recent times, Covid showed that community was not extinct: more people than were needed volunteered to help the NHS or their neighbours.

The story of slavery should be properly told, and so should Britain’s uniquely prominent role in combatting it

Strong government – the crown in parliament – rarely became tyranny because it relied on the participation and cooperation of the people. In the early 13th century, with Magna Carta, it formally accepted restraint and obligation. Rulers who went too far – Edward II, Richard II, Charles I – risked overthrow. Government by consent was fundamental, and was a source of strength, as shrewd rulers knew. Yet it is being challenged today.

Some challenges come from ‘post-democratic’ assertions of the superiority of global norms, international organisations or ‘non-majoritarian’ ideologies. Other challenges come from a more intense cultural and political tribalism that despises the rights and opinions of others. Some seem to be merely a consequence of ignorance and lack of reflection. All are rejections of our history of continuous political evolution, wide participation, defence of rights and liberties, and ultimate national sovereignty, whether royal, parliamentary or popular.

From the late 16th century, a reaction against religious extremism and persecution fostered toleration and freedom of thought. This sparked a burst of philosophical, scientific and cultural activity in Britain that has been compared to the Renaissance and ancient Greece. This activity has never ceased. But today’s new intolerance, which claims that freedom of speech is dangerous and rationality harmful, turns its back on that great advance.

Stability and security were essential for prosperity, too. It was existing prosperity, combined with intellectual ingenuity and thirst for improvement, that spawned the industrial revolution, beginning a transformation of human existence that made modern life possible.

18th-century oil painting by Joseph Wright of Derby depicting a natural philosopher demonstrating an air pump experiment to a gathered family, with a white bird inside a glass flask

An experiment on a bird in an air pump shown in Joseph Wright’s painting from 1768. Britain was “home to a burst of philosophical, scientific and cultural activity that has been compared to the Renaissance” | Credit: Getty Images

The British empire was a vector for ideas, technology and institutions. It kept unprecedented order over a vast area in an unstable, violent and rapidly changing world. In the words of one of its leading critics, Edward Said, it “and other empires made the world one”.

The creation of a union of nations – though long resisted, and in Ireland partially rejected – meant that the wealth and power of England could spread throughout these islands. Union long kept the islands safe. This is ever more necessary today in an increasingly dangerous, unpredictable and hostile world. We have recently been shocked by proofs of our vulnerability. To break up the union would certainly make things worse.

The rebirth of English language and literature in the late Middle Ages, its explosive development during the Reformation, and its use for literature, religion, science, politics and business from the 16th century onwards laid the basis for the first and, so far, only world language. It was spread by economic enterprise, cultural influence and imperial rule. Britain’s literature and arts have consequently become a major part of the shared heritage of humanity.

I suggest that if we were to consider positive aspects of the history of any state or nation, they would be something like this. That it had provided peace at home and protection against external threats. That while doing this it had respected crucial liberties: to speak, to think, to worship, to prosper, to bring up families, to live without oppression. That its people had been able to participate in the running of their society. That the system of law had given equal protection. That it had fostered a sense of belonging, trust among strangers, and concern for the sick, poor and vulnerable. That it had developed a notable artistic and literary culture. Finally, that it had left some positive mark on the history of humanity. No nation on Earth has succeeded more than partially in all these things. In Britain too, of course, success has been partial, and it is never guaranteed.

The foundations of our existence as a political community over the centuries were the labours and sacrifices of countless men, women and indeed children, most of them unrecorded. We should recognise their successes as well as their failures. This should not encourage self-satisfied national vanity. On the contrary, it should inspire feelings of gratitude and humility, recognition of the value of what we have inherited, awareness of our own failings, and sensitivity to what we need to protect, preserve and try to improve.

A nation, said a French philosopher, is more than just a huge bazaar. It needs to inspire loyalty and affection, as more than just a place where you happen to live, work and consume. We should not be ashamed to teach a full and honest history with that aim. To do otherwise at a time of domestic division and global danger is recklessly irresponsible.

Robert Tombs’ latest book, Our Islands’ Story: A Better Story About Britain, co-authored with Nigel Biggar, was published by Forum in October 2026

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This article was first published in the December 2026 issue of HistoryExtra Magazine

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