The 'memory of empire as happiness' and the UK riots
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The view of the ‘memory of empire as happiness’ has not disintegrated from the UK public or private sphere. Ahmed argues that the concept of happiness in the United Kingdom is inherently colonial; it relies on “acquiring good habits”, those of the coloniser, and assimilating into the settler-mindset. The British have never been good at admitting when they’re wrong, and this is heavily prominent in purposeful disinterest and shame about their past. She explains how happiness narratives encourage individuals to align with the dominant values of the nation-state, which, in the case of the United Kingdom, is shaped by colonial histories. They mask their own barbarism with politeness and sugarcoating: “we created something called the empire where we mixed and mingled with people very different from those of the islands”. This quote, with its casual and euphemistic tone, encapsulates the British tendency to downplay the violence and exploitation of empire by masking it with a false sense of benevolence. The phrase "we created something called the empire" deliberately abstracts the brutal realities of colonialism, reducing it to a vague and benign "something". The use of "mixed and mingled with people very different from those of the islands" further dilutes the historical truth, implying a mutual, harmonious exchange rather than the imposition of British power and economic interests on colonised peoples. This rhetorical sugarcoating reflects what Sara Ahmed would describe as the "happiness script" of empire: an attempt to present British colonialism as a positive, civilizing force that brought progress and cultural enrichment. The language erases the violence, enslavement, and extraction that were foundational to the British Empire, allowing the British public to maintain a comfortable distance from the moral reckoning that should accompany the memory of colonialism.
The same refusal to confront this imperialism is mirrored in the handling of Islamophobic riots in the UK this summer. Ahmed’s observation that "to see happily is to not see at all" resonates here: British society often chooses a narrative of happiness and unity, even when it means ignoring the violence and oppression inflicted on racialised communities. The English Defence League (EDL) riots and the rise in Islamophobic violence are symptoms of a deep-rooted colonial mindset that refuses to acknowledge the grief of those who have historically suffered under British imperialism. As seen in Keir Starmer's statement, describing those involved as "thugs" who "hijack" national grief to "sow hatred," the emphasis is on the preservation of British decorum and civility. The use of "thugs" implies that those rioting are beneath the standard of British properness, rather than acknowledging that their violence is rooted in historical and ongoing racism, especially against Muslim communities.
What is particularly striking is that Starmer avoids terms like "Islamophobia" or "racist attacks," choosing instead to present the violence as an aberration rather than a continuation of Britain's colonial legacy of dehumanising the "Other." The promise to "Make Britain Great Again," echoes imperial rhetoric, framing national happiness as the ultimate goal, regardless of whose suffering is being ignored. Ahmed’s notion that happiness is a tool to invoke a desire for citizenship comes into play here. Those committing violence see themselves as defending a particular British identity, one that hinges on conformity to colonial values. Citizenship, in this sense, is seen as adherence to a British way of life, where the key to a "satisfactory" life is assimilating into its values.