Revolution: How the English Civil War Influenced Our Modern Political Traditions

The Wars of the Roses are a key part of the British school curriculum, with Henry Tudor’s defeat of Richard III at the Battle of Bosworth Field and his subsequent marriage to the eldest daughter of Edward IV returning to the throne to a British lineage for the first time in 450 years. Of course, this is taught primarily as a stage setting for what followed, the infamous reign of Henry VIII and his controversial founding of the Church of England. Whilst it’s extremely obvious why this seismic shift in the English socio-political landscape is considered essential to teach to schoolchildren, what followed the demise of the Tudor dynasty is much less so - but it is essential, because without the events of the Stuart era the modern landscape would be surprisingly different.

The Stuart dynasty began in 1603 when the Tudor queen Elizabeth I died childless, the throne passing to her cousin King James VI of Scotland, making him also King James I of both England (including Wales) and Ireland. Under this royal line the four nations of the British Isles united as the Kingdom of Great Britain, which in turn gave rise to the British Parliament, situated in the Palace of Westminster. The first permanent English (later British) colony was settled in the Americas in 1607, the imaginatively-named Jamestown in the Americas. Finally, and most relevant to this piece, the English Civil War happened and England was subsequently a republic from 1649 to 166, at the conclusion of which the Stuart heir Charles II was restored to the throne.

Anyone with a passing knowledge of the Civil War knows that it was between the parliamentarians (Roundheads), who wanted executive control over the nation to be primarily held by parliament, and the royalists (Cavaliers) who wanted it to be held by the monarch. This war was primarily fought amongst inhabitants of the upper echelons of society; however, the Roundhead side harboured a number of ideologically distinct factions that had more grassroots origins. Of these, three stand out as their influence can still be seen so clearly in the popular traditions of political thought today: the Levellers, the Diggers, and the Ranters. Originally the Diggers had been part of the Levellers - calling themselves ‘True Levellers’ for a time - but split away due to disagreement over certain issues, such as property ownership. Though the Ranters never had a core ideological manifesto, it’s generally understood that they broadly agreed with the Digger’s vision of society, except on the point of moral authority. Their support for amorality was incredibly heretical, even landing one prominent figure in prison, with leading notable Digger Gerrard Winstanley denouncing the Ranters as having “a general lack of moral values”.

The Levellers advocated for equality before the law, religious tolerance, extended suffrage, individual sovereignty, the end of literary and journalistic censorship, jury trials, the abolition of taxation on the lowest earners, and annual elections. It was, in essence, a ‘power to the people’ movement. Initially Cromwell worked together with them, until disagreements about practical elements of their tactical approach caused them to fall out and so they began to work against each other. (This should be sounding familiar to the reader already.) The Diggers agreed with all of this, but where they differed was on the issue of property. The former believed that land should be privately owned and that these owners should be free to choose to cooperate with each other; the latter believed that land should be communally owned and used as such, and it was this belief that gave them the ‘Digger’ name, referring to them digging up the hedgerows that acted as enclosures to each parcel of land. They also suggested proto-socialist ideas like public health insurance.

Both movements were motivated by their Protestant (often Puritan) Christian faith, and this is where the Ranters deviated. They agreed with the Diggers’ vision of social construction, but they rejected the idea of objective moral authority, specifically the version of it offered by the Church. The prominent thinkers of this group advocated for essentially doing as one pleased, including swearing, drinking, and sexual promiscuity including adultery, as they rejected the concept of sin as “imaginary”. The Ranters were never an organised movement, nor did they ever gain a significant following, with most of their popularity coming from small-time wage earners whom I speculate were eager to have all their wildest dreams - more money, more land, more drink, and more women - realised.

These descriptions should be recognisable to anyone involved in political debate. The Levellers still exist today in the ‘liberal right’ - they were on the COVID marches, share ‘cash is king’ posts on Facebook, proudly support a constitutional monarchy and vehemently reject anything they deem to be too authoritarian - whilst the Diggers manifested in traditional (pre-Blair) Labour voters with their support for expansive social programs and advocacy for progressive civil rights. What is less clear is specifically where and how the Ranter influence became so pervasive, but it undeniably has. To many on ‘the right’ the answer to this accelerating trend of amorality is to reinstate the moral authority of the Christian Church in British society, but the same are usually unwilling to support any apparatus that could enforce an entire population to essentially go backwards and readopt a faith that has been losing popular appeal for decades. What is for certain is that, against the behemoth that is the Church, the heretical ideas of the radical fringe triumphed and now permeate our culture to such an extent that most don’t even recognise how extreme they are and think that watered-down versions are sufficiently sane.

Having established the origins of our current political traditions, it leads one to question what historical justification there is for supporting authoritarian, hierarchal rule in Britain, and of course it’s absolute monarchy and the feudal system, found both within the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms of the British Isles and within the formalised system established by William of Normandy. Even Britain’s most popular flirtation with authoritarian government, Oswald Mosley’s Britain Union of Fascists, still paid its respects to monarchy and religion - arguably because any overt stance against them would simply have been seen as un-British, as it was when communists expressed these sentiments. However, when a populace truly believes in a God, and/or truly believes in a monarch, the political leader becomes redundant except as a dutiful servant carrying out some other doctrine. As such, an autocratic party in Britain defeats itself when it supports monarchy and religious faith, but also defeats itself when it doesn’t. Nevertheless, it still represents a tradition that predates even the creation of our great country, and I understand why it still persists amongst our people.

Would Britain ever lend its support to a truly dictatorial ideology, I wonder, or does authority have to be softened by the halo of divinity to be palatable. When the Church is infested by subversives and the Royals long weakened by their bending to the will of parliament, it’s hard to imagine that either will suddenly roar back into life and recapture their former glory. When King James I ascended the thrones that led to Britain becoming a nation in its own right he created a raw new psyche, shaped in its infancy by imperialism and revolution, demanding that any newcomer to the ring must honour this ideological heritage without becoming an ineffectual continuation of a system that has long ceased to work for our people. We cannot move forward by looking back, but if tradition as a manifestation of a collective psyche is what persists, then we must find a way to sustain what has historically made Britain what it is today in building a new and brighter tomorrow.