Britishness in Broken Britain: What is it Good For?
Over ten years ago, BBC’s home editor Mark Easton wrote that trying to define Britishness is like “trying to paint the wind.” In his article, he reunited with fond memories of the Isle of Arran, a cottage in Kildonan and mackerel fishing, in a desperate search for what makes him British.
“What is interesting about us?,” asked Mark, musing about the British identity’s uniqueness and position. “It is not tattie scones or pillar boxes that are important in themselves, but their provenance, their survival, their mystery. Our lives are connected through shared experience of objects and events across time and space. Identity is inextricably tied up with heritage and with tradition.”
Easton notes to readers that writers before him have identified custom (and its protection) as the benchmark of conservatism. Heritage and tradition are both cosy blankets to forget the world under, but 13 years after Mark wrote that article, reality comes knocking – British identity has undoubtedly become a tapestry of journeys, languages, promises (both broken and kept), a million ways to eat the same food, and another million reasons to insist your way is the proper one.
Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer showed us his acute awareness of this tapestry by warning of the UK’s imagined and impending fate – becoming “an island of strangers.” That’s what he is, supposedly, trying to protect the country, and more specifically its culture, from.
The PM insisted on full “integration” for all newcomers, regulated by new rules on language learning prior to entering the country. But is language all it takes to truly integrate in a place like Britain?
I, for one, arrived in this country proudly donning a C2 IELTS score and, eight years later, couldn’t pinpoint which parts of me have become British. Does Britishness grow like a rash, or a garden? Having obtained two degrees in this country and not having the foggiest about how to navigate my own country’s bureaucracy should I return there today, I have effectively stepped into adulthood… here. But I have a feeling something else is required for my ‘full’ integration.
Regardless, brands from far and wide have tried to sell Britishness back to Brits in various packages – nostalgia, novelty, tradition, food, music. But one might wonder, what is there to sell and to whom exactly?
To find cultural clues on who the Brits are, let’s look at the way their own heritage describes them.
Trenches, Rhubarb, and Tracksuits
Burberry, a proudly British house, has long dressed itself in the contradictions synonymous with Britishness – tailored to perfection, but unexpected; influenced by aristocratic sporting pursuits, but democratic. The latter are Jefferson Hack’s [co-founder and CEO of Dazed Media] words, who said that “Burberry is a really democratic brand, in the sense that everyone, regardless of class or age, can find a way to make it their own.”
Prior to its mid-20th century rise to luxury, Burberry was a workwear brand, specifically tailored to brave the British weather and later, to supply trench coats to British officers during World War I. Today, its utilitarian standing has crumbled, and while people from all backgrounds could find a way to make it their own, most of us will never actually own it.
The Britishness Burberry sells is up for debate. Their ‘It’s Always Burberry Weather’ campaign provided Olivia Coleman with a high tea spread and filmed her making the perfect cuppa for TikTok – quintessential stuff. Apparently.
Recently, they collaborated with gardener Gerald Stratford, and dressed him in their Highgrove x Burberry collection, while he presented his rhubarb to social media audiences. Gerald’s story is a compelling one: his childhood is a direct pipeline to what he does today, he used to help his father on the allotment and many years later he’s sharing his decades-long knowledge of soil and plants with his own children and grandchildren.
Under Burberry’s Gerald video, one TikTok user commented, “I eat rhubarb raw, dipped in sugar – that’s the taste of my childhood.” It certainly is for many Brits. But while Gerald’s been pulling rhubarb since he can remember, do you think Burberry was a pillar of his own childhood’s identity?
It would be unfair, though, to pin Burberry’s cultural effects entirely on those able to afford the real thing today. While in the ‘20s, the brand lined their trench coats with the iconic nova check for the first time, 80 years later Danniella Westbrook wrapped herself (and her daughter) in the pattern in what the Sun called a “chavtastic” look. The stroller, as many would remember, too, was draped in the same pattern.
Since then, the subversion of the nova check brought the Burberry brand into a whole different expression of British identity altogether. The Guardian was quick to check the pulse, but Burberry seemed unfazed. Amelia Hill reported that “[the brand] is steadfastly refusing to express outrage that its high-class image has been tarnished by downmarket associations and instead is embracing its customers whether they hail from council estate or country estate.”
Tom Griffith, COO of Uncommon Creative Studio, says that while until recently we might have pointed to traditional cultural expressions “such as The Royal Family, Shakespeare and fish and chips, or the centuries-old institutions of Oxbridge, and Brits’ innate urge to be polite,” today, things are quite different.
He summarises Britishness as “an ever-evolving concept,” a state of mind that is based on individual lived experiences, rather than collectivism. “There is no single definition of British identity,” Tom says. “But instead, a celebration of difference, paving the way for traditions, both old and new.”
My next question is then, can old and new really coexist? Next to Burberry, we have JD’s illustrations of Britishness.
Coincidentally created by Uncommon, JD titled their 2024 Christmas campaign ‘Family’, and let viewers in on a series of vignettes resembling partially-forgotten domestic memories of warmth and community. The kind that emerges from the depths of your mind when you’re telling a childhood story to someone who wasn’t there. A camera peeking from the corner of the room, seeing an NHS worker mum say goodnight before a night shift. A cranberry and chicken sandwich wrapped in tinfoil. A midnight trip to the corner shop. Paddy Pimblett having a Chinese with his wife and babies.
Tom knows that this is what brands will do with a fragmented identity – rummage through it to find themselves. But, he asks, “what permits some of them to tap into Britishness, while others might fall flat?”
For Tom, the answer lies in authenticity. “Each of these brands communicates a unique point of view when it comes to Britishness, whether that’s heritage, difference, or shared experience, without it feeling forced or completely random. They provide a sense of comfort, because they call on us to celebrate what makes Britain different, instead of criticising it.”
The Most Relevant Brand in Britain
If we go by Tom’s words, relevance turns out to be the most important factor when talking about what makes a Briton. Relevance is what gives brands context to build on, or reflect the British identity. In comes Yorkshire Tea – arguably the most relevant brand in Britain. If pertinence is what allows brands to partake in the identification of national identity, Yorkshire Tea is definitely reaping the benefits of that freedom.
In the summer of 2023 they made the unforgettable track ‘Pack Yer Bags’, telling the story of a lads holiday in Ibiza fueled by bags and bags of tea. Carly Murphy, then assistant brand manager at Yorkshire Tea, said of the summer hit, “Our latest tea song, brought to life by Lucky Generals, is a celebration of tea, the passion, and the lengths that people go to for a decent brew, wherever they might be!”
And Brits seem to have agreed – the ad won the Grand Effie at the 2023 Effie Awards UK. Samira Brophy, senior creative excellence director at Ipsos explained that in her company’s work on British Distinctiveness with JKR, it was found that cultural influence was Britain’s forte according to businesses. “Over half (53%) of businesses think the country will have a significant cultural influence in the decades to come,” Samira says. “This points to culture being the place to play in a polarised world, by tapping into high-level British qualities – witty, traditional, friendly, welcoming – and executing them in fresh and modern ways.”
In this sense, Samira points to Yorkshire Tea’s frivolities as best-in-class – brand bravery that resulted in a “fresh, self-depricating take on the British tourist abroad.”
Matt Herbert, co-founder and co-CEO of brand tracking company Tracksuit likewise, believes in the longevity and power of Britishness as a marketing asset. To him, while heritage brands like Burberry double down on promises of quality, craftsmanship and authenticity, times are calling for both time-honoured tradition and modern innovation. “The question for marketers now,” Matt says, “is not whether to embrace British identity, but how to reinvent it.”
Hovis continues to lean into its 138-year-long legacy, as Matt reminds us. “Its recent ‘Strength Baked In’ campaign taps into a very specific kind of nostalgia – one that combines national pride, resilience, and community.” To me, it’s that first part – national pride – that doesn’t sit right with notions of ‘reinvention’.
But Matt is right – Hovis did it well, and humbly. Watching that campaign film feels familiar, even as a person for whom Hovis hasn’t played a pivotal role in childhood breakfasts or school lunches. I understood – and felt – the sentiment. The morning glow cradling a small community, having just woken up; the posties on their first run of the day; faded brick wall ads, remembered – it makes sense. It makes you want to be part of it, while remaining unassuming and inviting. The commitment to diversity in casting in this kind of advertising is the difference between a right-wing field day and an actual attempt to representBritain as it it today.
Matt brings the numbers – according to Tracksuit, 60% of people trust Hovis as a brand, 41% feel that it reflects “people like them” and it also sports a high awareness score of 90% (~46.5 million people).
Uncool Britannia
But is Britishness really as strong a marketing asset as it once was? Although the Ipsos numbers seem reassuring, if we cast an eye 20-30 years back, it becomes painfully clear that the way the world perceives Britain has declined in marketability, drastically.
During the Cool Britannia era, the country’s cultural export didn’t rely on potentially dangerous nationalist sentiments, but on girl power, Hugh Grant’s dreamy depiction of the British man, Britpop, and a fresh Labour win. A Union Jack, bedazzled, and draped on Geri Halliwell’s mini dress really rings different to the sentiment a Union Jack would echo today, even though Doja Cat did try recently.
Nowadays, TikTok users have resorted to defending themselves under Union Jack aesthetic videos – one user said: “I love the Union Jack in a Lily Allen way, not in a Reform way.”
But nothing lasts forever – and in this case, Cool Britannia was declared over by the early noughties. The Guardian’s Amelia Hill told readers as early as 2001 that Newsweek’s claim of London being the “coolest city on the planet” was already awfully mismatched with the capital’s reality. If we go by her criteria back then, today’s London has fallen even further down the coolness ladder.
So while, according to Ipsos, over half of the businesses they asked think that Britain will have a significant cultural impact over the coming years – do people think the same? And are businesses tapping into the dreaded zeitgeist well enough to find out? Selling Yorkshire Tea to Brits is one thing, but selling Brits drinking Yorkshire Tea to the rest of the world is a considerably more difficult task as it stands today.
A Tale of Two Car Brands
On the other end of the spectrum from Hovis, with an attempt at total wheel reinvention, sits Jaguar – a brand known fo craft, luxury, and performance. It recently embraced an all-electric future and, according to Matt, “signalled a conscious departure from classic British hallmarks in favour of a tech-forward, sustainable rebrand.” The numbers are conflicting, with their awareness remaining strong, but consideration of the brand sits well below competitors – at around 12%.
“It’s a necessary reinvention aimed at future-proofing Jaguar, while retaining the soul of British design,” Matt explains. “And it shows that heritage alone won’t cut it. For British brands to stay relevant, they must evolve what Britishness looks and feels like in a changing landscape.
He continues: “There’s safety in nostalgia, but long-term success lies in balancing familiarity with innovation. Britishness isn’t static – it never has been. The brands getting it right are those willing to reimagine heritage, not as something dusty and fixed, but as a living, modern idea with a subtle nod to history. It’s no longer enough to emboss a Union Jack or talk about craftsmanship. Today’s consumers respond more to attitude than to aesthetics. They’re looking for modern British values: diversity, originality, wit and relevance.”
Another car brand is attempting to tap into and define exactly these values, while avoiding all of Jaguar’s mistakes. Ever since Monks took the wheel, MINI, a quintessential British side-kick, has seen a considerable change in brand voice and the ways in which the car shows up in culture.
Fernanda Valéria, senior strategist at Monks, is also on board with the idea that Britishness isn’t to be boxed up – it’s built and created from the ground up by people, as much as it is represented by symbols and institutions. Reflecting on MINI as a heritage brand, she says that the best it can do is “reflect the truest version of British culture in that moment, as authentically as possible.”
Taking stock of what makes up ‘that moment’ and asking what the brand can reflect in its own distinctive voice was the starting point for the agency’s strategic work with MINI. “We began mapping the old predictable frameworks of Britishness and understood that today’s identity is far more layered,” says Fernanda.
At the heart of what took place next was a new understanding: “Britishness, today, is collective. It’s co-authored by different voices, backgrounds, and perspectives. And that changes everything.”
The ‘heritage’ part shouldn’t be lost just because a new layer of reality and political awareness is added to a brand like MINI – the promise of craftsmanship, durability, and life-long companionship isn’t to be confused with a static expression of Britain or Britons.
In that sense, MINI still has its role. Fernanda says that the brand knew staying relevant will take more than just clinging on to the past: it would mean showing up as a participant in contemporary British life. “So, we defined MINI as the UK’s cultural sidekick: mischievous, witty, street-smart, funny.”
The cultural voice Monks crafted for MINI remained rooted in British wit and (non-British) optimism – the car behaves as an “instigator of fun” and shows up in modern Britain’s cultural spaces that feel authentic and alive. “The Wembley takeover for the England match with newly minted manager Tuchel reflects this because it was like the one set of perfectly timed circumstances where you can speak totally honestly through the brand’s voice,” says Fernanda.
“There’s bravery in doing this,” she reflects. “In a polarised political climate, it’s easier to retreat into safety. But heritage brands can evolve without losing their soul.”
Britishness As Told in Children’s Stories
Barbour is another high-end British institution, often spoken about in the same breath as Hunter’s Wellington boots and Land Rovers. Synonymous with royal sporting pursuits, Barbour has had a long run with the conservative population of the country. And probably for good reason – the practicalities of having a country house require an outerwear garment that promises longevity. The quintessentially British, rustic look is just an added bonus. Where does Barbour’s soul lie, then?
But during the brand’s legacy, there’s been blips – and still are – where other communities attempt to appropriate it, for various reasons. At Glastonbury 2007, “Barbour was the jacket of choice at the with acts and celebrities such as the Arctic Monkeys, Lily Allen,and Rufus Wainwright all wearing the brand.” If that was an attempt from brand-side to sell to a new demographic, or a demographic reaching out to the brand, either way it acted as a momentary repositioning. In the past couple of years, Yanks have also started dabbling, so it’s even more interesting what kind of culture a British heritage brand cultivates overseas.The brand’s recent collaboration with Ganni was perhaps another attempt at diversifying the client pool, or targeting a new group.
With all of these layers of complexity, when it comes to facing the public with its brand voice, Barbour has remained in the fantastical. Adopting British classics like Shawn the Sheep, Paddington Bear and Raymond Briggs' Snowman, the clothing brand has nestled cosily into a unique gap – no humans, just illustrated ideas of Britishness. And this is perhaps the most expansive, because of its neutrality, brand presence in British culture from this list. You make of that what you will!
The list of examples can go on forever, and can come from all corners of ‘British’ – legacy can mean straight-edge, institutional, conservative; but there’s legacy in British punk too, in defiance, in rebellion, which has played a major role in the country’s culture. Naturally, cultural hubs emerged on every side of the axis, and with them, brands to sell those expressions back to us.
Whether Dr. Martens or Barbour, the truth is that brands will pick apart British identity and market fractions of it, based on who their product is for. A culture layered and old enough to make space for everyone is a fruitful place for those who want to emulate it – we’re not discovering hot water here.
From where I’m standing, brands can do two things with British identity: shape it and reflect it. If the latter is done in a mirrorball fashion, with flashes and flickers of contradiction, the first is a generation-defying act. If brands are truly capable of shaping anything, especially identity, they surely must aim to be careful with what they push. And most importantly, it looks like they shouldn’t be afraid of the rich layers that new context can provide – context that doesn’t (I promise) erode the foundation.
“Britishness, in brand terms, isn’t disappearing,” reassures Tracksuit’s CEO. “It’s just evolving. For those who embrace its contradictions, challenge its cliches and move with its nuance, it remains one of the most powerful stories a brand can tell.”
