What If the UK is just a chapter, not the whole story?

Owen Williams

They’ve said it for decades. That Wales is too small. Too poor. That we’d never survive alone. But who gets to decide that? And why do we still believe them?

Let’s break this down. Because the argument isn’t really about size. It’s about power. And the people who hold power rarely give it up without first convincing you you’d be worse off without them.

The truth? Small nations thrive all over the world. Iceland has a population smaller than Cardiff, but it ranks higher on nearly every quality-of-life index than the UK. Estonia, Latvia, and Slovenia are all smaller than Wales. All independent. All stable. All making their own choices, sometimes messy, sometimes bold, but theirs to make.

Being small isn’t a weakness. It’s an opportunity. Smaller countries can move faster, respond better, govern smarter. And when the government is within reach of the people it serves, democracy feels a little less distant and a lot more real.

Ireland: proof that the UK isn’t the only way

Look west. A hundred years ago, Ireland left the UK. At the time, some said it was madness. That the new state would fail. That it would come crawling back. It didn’t.

Today, Ireland is one of Europe’s most dynamic economies. It’s not without problems. No country is. But it’s sovereign. It makes its own laws. It acts in its own interest. And crucially, it belongs to its people.

There are left-wing parties in Ireland. Right-wing parties. Centrist coalitions. Spirited debate. But there isn’t a single mainstream party calling for a return to UK rule. Because once you’ve had the chance to shape your own state, you don’t dream of rejoining the one that thought it owned you.

You improve what’s yours. You believe in the principle that your country is exactly that: your country.

Ireland reminds us that independence isn’t some radical break from normality. It is normal. It’s the UK that’s the anomaly: a union of countries, bound together by centuries-old legislation, still acting as though that arrangement is permanent. It isn’t.

If devolution “doesn’t work”, why would independence?

You’ll hear some say devolution hasn’t worked. Wales is still poor. Still struggling. Still behind. That frustration is real. And it deserves a serious answer.

But the problem isn’t that Wales can’t govern itself. It’s that, under devolution, it’s never really been allowed to. We have some powers, yes. But not the tools that make real change possible.

We can’t set most taxes. We can’t shape welfare. We don’t control energy, transport, or broadcasting.

The budget we do have is decided by a government in Westminster that we didn’t vote for. So we end up managing problems we didn’t create, with money we don’t control, through policies shaped by priorities that aren’t ours.

That’s not a failure of Welsh Government. That’s a failure of the system. It’s like being given a bike with no chain and told to keep up.

And the parties in charge of that system are still mostly UK-wide. Their main aim is to keep the UK together.

Wales is often just a footnote. Sometimes not even that. The Senedd is doing its best within the limits it has. But the architecture of our legislature was never meant to light the touchpaper for independence. It was designed to contain the demand for change, rather than answer it.

If anything, devolution shows just how badly Wales needs the full powers of a normal country. Because until then, we’re not failing at self-government. We’re being denied the chance to try.

The UK isn’t a fact of nature

The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland isn’t gravity. It’s not oxygen. It’s not eternal. It’s a political arrangement, not a divine truth.

Scotland joined through the Act of Union in 1707. Ireland (in part) left in 1922. These are not abstract constitutional facts. They are reminders that the UK is changeable. That its shape is political, not predestined.

Even today, the foundations shake. Scotland has come close to leaving. Northern Ireland is being pulled in two directions by history and geography. England, more than ever, acts as though it is the UK.

But it isn’t. It’s just one part of it. The union isn’t inevitable. It’s not forever. And it doesn’t work equally for all.

When someone tells you the UK is a success, ask who it’s working for. Ask what kind of success leaves whole nations feeling stuck, silenced, or second-best. And ask why, if it’s such a success, the people running it are so terrified of anyone leaving.

Starting again on our own terms

An independent Wales wouldn’t be a continuation of the UK by other means. It would be something new. That doesn’t mean chaos. It means choices. It means designing a state from the ground up, asking what we want to keep, what we want to let go, and what we want to build for ourselves.

Do we want the same centralised government model, or something more local? The same media ownership structure? The same approach to natural resources? To public services? To housing?

It’s all up for debate. And that should be treated as a strength. Wales doesn’t need to copy the UK to survive. In fact, we might thrive precisely by not copying it.

Britishness doesn’t belong to the UK

To want independence isn’t to hate Britain. It’s not to reject our shared histories, cultures, or languages.

It’s not to deny the importance of working together across these islands. But let’s be clear. Britishness isn’t owned by the UK State. It isn’t a loyalty badge. It isn’t a border.

Britishness is geography. It’s the island we live on. It’s a sense of shared space, not a single state.

If Wales became independent tomorrow, its people would still live on the island of Great Britain. They’d still speak English and Welsh. They’d still drink tea, and sing in the Six Nations. They’d just do so in a country they owned.

The real question

So is Wales too small to be independent? No. But that doesn’t mean independence is simple, or risk-free, or inevitable. It means that the usual objections deserve a second look. That the argument about size and scale is less about capacity, and more about imagination.

A future Welsh state wouldn’t be built overnight. It would take time, planning, and difficult decisions. But it would be ours to shape. The overwhelming majority of countries in the world already govern themselves. They make mistakes. They course-correct. They adapt. Wales could do the same. It wouldn’t be easy. But it’s possible. And maybe that’s the more honest starting point.