Matt Kilcoyne: The hypocrisy of imposing Welsh-only constituency names is worth our taking to task

Matt Kilcoyne is as a political commentator and economist.

In a twist of historical irony that would be laughable if it weren’t so serious, the Boundary Commission for Wales has become the very thing Welsh language activists once rightly condemned.

Their decision to impose Welsh-only names for all Senedd constituencies represents a perfect inversion of historical wrongs – replacing one form of linguistic impostionist imperialism with another.

One that we should oppose.

The census statistics tell a varnished truth about Wales’ linguistic reality. While the official figures from the Welsh Language Commissioner claim 17.8 per cent of Wales’ population can speak Welsh, the actual number of fluent Welsh speakers is closer to 7.7 per cent. When given free choice, Welsh people overwhelmingly prefer to use English in their daily lives – not because of some historical wrong, but because it’s their preferred means of communication.

The evidence is overwhelming. Just 5.05 per cent of people chose to complete the census in Welsh, despite being actively encouraged to do so with the Welsh option prominently offered. A mere 0.08 per cent of driving theory tests are taken in Welsh. Only 0.6 per cent of calls to NHS Direct Wales are conducted in Welsh. Most tellingly, one high street bank told me under condition of anonymity that just 0.33 per cent of ATM transactions in Wales involve changing the language settings to Welsh in 2025 – even though this option appears immediately after inserting your card at every cash machine across the country.

These aren’t ancient statistics – these reflect the choices Welsh people make every single day when given the freedom to select their preferred language.

Given genuine choice, 99.67 per cent of Welsh people prefer their banking in English.

Yet the Boundary Commission has decided that the 95 per cent who primarily use English must now navigate democratic structures exclusively through a language they don’t routinely use. In Cardiff – now officially only “Caerdydd” for electoral purposes – just 11.1 per cent of residents can speak Welsh. In Newport (“Casnewydd”), the figure plummets to 7.5 per cent. Even in Swansea (“Abertawe”), merely 11.4 per cent report Welsh-speaking ability. Even places where the name is purely a transliteration must now report only in Welsh. Places lumped together like Wrexham and Flint are now to be Fflint-Wrecsam. At least the old Clwyd county had a link to the Clwydian range..

The absurdity deepens when you consider the historical reality of these places.

Many of these constituencies cover areas that have been predominantly English-speaking for centuries. The eastern valleys shed Welsh as their primary language over 100 years ago, with Monmouthshire having been majority English-speaking since the 16th century. Imposing Welsh-only names on communities with long-established English linguistic traditions isn’t merely administratively inconvenient – it’s a fundamental denial of those communities’ lived history.

This perfectly exemplifies the inexorable logic of devolution – a system designed ostensibly to bring governance closer to the people has instead created an insulated political class pursuing policies that actively divide rather than unite. The Senedd, established to represent Welsh interests, now imposes linguistic barriers between citizens and their democratic institutions.

What makes this particularly galling is that it comes with a hefty price tag. Welsh language promotion already costs taxpayers dearly, with Welsh-medium schools receiving £341 more per pupil than English-medium schools. Millions are spent annually on translation services – documents that barely anyone reads in Welsh. Jobs across the public sector increasingly require Welsh language skills, effectively barring the vast majority of Welsh citizens from employment opportunities funded by their own taxes.

The evidence of devolution’s failure extends far beyond this linguistic overreach. Senedd election turnout languishes at 46.6 per cent (2021) – substantially below UK general elections in Wales, which reached 56 per cent in 2024 (and was at 66.6 per cent in 2019). This democratic deficit isn’t accidental – it reflects growing public disengagement from institutions increasingly detached from everyday concerns. But it reflect the concerns that cross border issues just don’t matter that much.

Economic indicators tell an equally damning story. Welsh GDP per capita stands at just 72.1 per cent of the UK average – worse than when devolution began. Educational outcomes place Wales firmly at the bottom of UK PISA rankings, with Welsh students scoring below all other UK nations in reading, mathematics and science. Meanwhile, NHS Wales waiting lists have reached a record 735,000 patients – equivalent to nearly a quarter of the entire Welsh population.

Against this backdrop of objective failure, Cardiff Bay’s political class appears obsessed with linguistic engineering rather than addressing these fundamental challenges. The Welsh Government’s budget allocates £79 million to Welsh language initiatives while essential services deteriorate year on year.

Perhaps most disturbing is the emerging culture of shame. Commission Chief Executive Shereen Williams’ dismissal of criticism as “anti-Welsh language sentiments” deploys the same tactic once used against Welsh speakers – implying moral deficiency in those who prefer their native tongue. The message is clear: if you’re uncomfortable with these Welsh-only names, there’s something wrong with you, not with the policy.

This manufactures a form of linguistic guilt eerily reminiscent of what Welsh speakers once endured – the sense that your preferred language somehow marks you as deficient, that your linguistic identity is something to apologise for rather than express naturally.

The Boundary Commission’s decision represents the culmination of a devolution project that has failed to deliver on its promises. Rather than creating more responsive, representative governance, we’ve witnessed the emergence of an increasingly detached political class using institutional power to pursue ideological projects regardless of public preference or practical consequences.

Twenty-five years after its establishment, the devolved settlement has delivered worse public services, declining economic performance relative to England, and now, linguistic division where there need be none.

The Welsh-only constituency names stand as a perfect symbol of this failure – a triumph of ideological purity over practical governance, of division over unity. Other bilingual nations manage without such impositions. Canada maintains bilingual nomenclature for electoral districts. Belgium ensures both French and Dutch are represented in bilingual regions. Even the Welsh Government itself uses bilingual signage for its departments. Why should constituencies in Wales be different?

Those that believe in representative government should resist and reject the idea that English speakers in Wales, the vast vast vast majority of us, should be wiped from our current political settlement.

Where is the Opposition? Who speaks for the Welsh who do not want this? Where is our representation?

Yma o hyd as the Welsh speakers might say.