In a 1987 interview with the Woman’s Own magazine, then prime minister Margaret Thatcher said that there was, “no such thing as society. There are individual men and women and there are families. And no government can do anything except through people, and people must look after themselves first.” More than 35 years on those words ring increasingly, and some would say chillingly, true. Society, if it does exist in the UK, is probably more fractured and polarised than at any time since the end of World War II. The glaring and worrying divisions are blatantly clear in almost every aspect of daily life: through extreme politics, through the Brexit debacle, through institutional racist actions and attitudes, through the dismissive treatment of our poorest, most vulnerable and marginalised, through bullying, and through the thousands of slurs, curses and threats published daily on social media sites. A sharing, caring society? It hardly seems so. Consider also, that eight years before that Woman’s Own interview, the same Margaret Thatcher, after her first election triumph, said: “Where there is discord, may we bring harmony. Where there is error, may we bring truth. Where there is doubt, may we bring faith. And where there is despair, may we bring hope.” Harmony? Not on this watch. Truth? We’ve all seen over the past few years what truth means to those in power. Doubt? There’s plenty of that, but not much faith that things will improve any time soon. And there is most certainly an abundance of despair and, for millions, little real hope for a better future. There was initially massive optimism that the internet would be the great bringer together of nations and individuals but, socially at least, it appears mostly to create a massive chasm between differing factions and opinions. Insults and threats are hurled back and forth, with some users and influencers deliberately striving to be as offensive as possible, all to get more “likes” and followers. It’s a perverse kind of fame, dubiously earned by being hostile and wounding. Others spread their bile through the cloak of internet anonymity. These actions seem to demonstrate, among other things, that for many inhabitants of what Shakespeare called “this sceptred isle, this earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, this other Eden, demi-paradise,” there’s less and less good will around. In fact, there’s a good deal of outright hatred for anyone who thinks or acts or even looks differently.

There’s plenty of doubt but not much faith that things will improve anytime soon

It might be down to politics, age, race, ethnicity, class, gender, wealth, sexuality, or multiple other reasons, but we are clearly no longer, if we ever were, as the Bard put it, “this happy breed”. Rather than being broadminded and ready to discuss and debate, we’ve become more smallminded and unwilling to listen to others. We feel better in our own bubble. In a recent interview, a former student of a top public school said he knew he was fortunate to be a member of a small, privileged bubble, and that wherever he went in the world, he knew that he always would meet others from that same bubble. They recognised and gravitated towards each other almost instantly, and they looked out for each other in any way necessary. Has the UK become a nation of many such bubbles, the smallest being the safest and most privileged, the largest the most vulnerable and easiest to burst?

These contemporary issues resonate throughout the nations of the UK, but nowhere more so than in England, where the phrase “proud to be English” has, for some, taken on a sinister meaning since Brexit. After all, it was only in England that the majority voted to leave the EU. But must it be so? Former boxer Frank Bruno wrote in a St George’s Day tweet that, “despite this country being in a mess I still love its traditions, the people, the places I visit – I am a proud Englishman.” Bruno, both for his bravery in the ring and his bravery and honesty in talking about his battles with mental health issues, has rightly become something of a national treasure. It’s sad that Frank’s simple sincerity and national pride has taken on a different connotation in these divisive and troubled times.