IN 1924, speaking on St George’s Day, the then prime minister, Stanley Baldwin, gave thanks that for once he could refer to England “without some fellow at the back of the room shouting out: ‘Britain!’” Even then, the tendency of the English to forget the other nations of the United Kingdom irritated the politically correct.

The distinction between Britain and England continues to confuse tourists; the natives furrow their brows, too. Filling in their census forms in 2011, some 60% of people in England gave their national identity as “English” only, whereas 19% gave it as “British” only. (The remainder were from another part of Britain, foreign nationals or claimed multiple national identities.) But, as data released on May 16th showed, there is great variation. Whether a person considers himself English first or British first is a powerful predictor of class, race and political persuasion.

Blacks and Asians are far more likely to consider themselves British: just 8% of ethnic Bangladeshis in England identify straightforwardly as English, for example. The old are more likely to describe themselves as English than the young. And among white Britons there is a geographical divide. In central London and other wealthy places, Britishness is popular: just 57.5% of white Britons in Cambridge call themselves English. In poorer spots along the Thames Estuary, in the West Midlands and in many northern cities, Englishness is the default identity (see map).

As Britain and Britishness have become more ethnically diverse, and as Scottish and Welsh nationalists have asserted themselves, many white Britons have turned to Englishness as an alternative identity. A poll by IPPR, a think-tank, finds that people who consider themselves English rather than British tend to be more hostile to immigration and more likely to vote for right-wing parties such as the UK Independence Party. For some, the flag of St George is too closely associated with far-right groups such as the English Defence League.