14 February 2019
Up the Revolution
Who rules?
By J R Thomas
Matthew Parris is a former politician (Conservative MP for West Derbyshire, 1979 -1986), a traveller, and a prolific writer, some of whose work may well be familiar to readers. His thoughtful, erudite and usually gentle columns appear on a regular basis in The Times and in the Spectator. Though we should qualify that “usually gentle”; on one subject at least his fists fly, his hair stands on end, and his nostrils emit radiant steam. Brexit has that effect on many people; it is just rather surprising to find it causing such fury in such an otherwise well-ordered debater. It is a reminder of how fundamental the issues raised by Brexit are, how deep the chasms between the two sides – and how painful and difficult any healing process will be.
Parris himself has reflected on that in his writings over the last few weeks, attacking those who say, mostly but not entirely from the Leaver side, that if Parliament succeeds in halting Brexit, or imposing a second Referendum designed to obstruct Britain leaving the European Union, then there could be metaphorical, if not literal, blood on the streets.
Nonsense, rubbish, balderdash, says Parris, not Leaving does not mean that much to the vast majority of Leavers; they’ll get over it. It’s a passing irritant, a buzzing wasp; they’ll be worrying about East Enders this time next year. No doubt many Leavers would say the same about Remainers: they’ll move on, rapidly get over our exit; they are natural conservatives who will soon be defending new status quos. Oh dear. How little we realise, whichever side of the debate we sit, how very real the issues are to our opponents; how much they matter. A lot of citizens really do care whether we go or stay; we seem unable to conceive that persons with views opposite to our own hold them as strongly was we do. But we might start to heal the divisions, even find a solution to this seemingly intractable issue, if we come to realise that the principles do matter, that to many it is a fundamental, a line which should not be crossed; that every footstep that brings triumphant joy to one side brings biting anger to the other.
It is true that the British have always been prone to the occasional riot and argy-bargy. The Poll Tax riots certainly unnerved the Conservative Party in early 1990, women’s suffrage caused widespread fury in the early C20th, and the divisions caused by the 1832 Great Reform Act went surprisingly deep. But what probably brought us nearest to a fundamental breakdown in the political system is hardly recalled today, though its hundred year ramifications are very key to what happens in the next few weeks. Home Rule for Ireland was the Brexit equivalent of late nineteenth century politics. As the likelihood of an independent Ireland grew, Ulster, the predominantly unionist Protestant part of Ireland made known its opposition to any form of rule from an independent (Catholic) south. Successive Westminster governments did not take seriously increasingly angry threats from Ulster, until the Curragh incident of March 1914, when it became very apparent that the loyalty of parts of the army was not to be relied on should Home Rule not contain protections for the North. In this, very senior officers of the army, a surprising number being of Ulster Protestant stock, were representing not only their own views, but those of the majority population of the Six Counties. The First World War and the sense to compromise intervened, but that was possibly as near as Britain has come to revolution in at least part of these islands since 1688; and the latter is probably best seen as a final wrap up of the English Civil War of 1642-1649.
The Civil War is the most researched and most written about period of English history. It was not just about taxation or the divine right of kings, although those played their part. It was the fulfilment of two long strands of conflict and shows that there really is nothing new in Westminster. The first casus belli lay in the struggle between Pope and King for ultimate authority; as we know, Henry VIII won that one, giving the British Isles political as well as physical detachment from Europe. But the second was the struggle for democracy, for what Tony Blair might have called “the people’s government”. (He didn’t and maybe he had good reason not to. That we will leave to some future Corbyn vs Blair debate.)
When Henry detached the English church from Rome, he started something that he probably did not even imagine possible. All over England – and Scotland too – free-thinkers began to wonder why all authority flowed from the centre, and why all wealth rested with a few mostly new rich men. The rise of the peasant class to participation in governance had begun, and it nearly ended the Tudor dynasty. The boy King Edward ruling through a Protector did nothing for whatever natural deference might remain in the towns and shires, and Mary’s attempt to put the lid back on the box that her father and brother had opened was doomed to failure. Her early demise and succession by her cautious yet ruthless sister prevented too much turmoil, but Elizabeth’s long reign was far from trouble free, as we tend to forget, lost in the glamour of Gloriana. After James I and VI, a clever operator if ever there was one who would have fitted very nicely in some senior role in Mrs May’s cabinet, came Charles I, and finally the irreconcilable forces took to their weaponry. In the end the irreconcilables were reconciled, in a sort of way, the reality of ever widening participation in government being masked by adherence to traditional forms – a truly British hallmark of process.
And all that jogged along quite nicely until once again questions of where power should rest, and who should exercise it, rise once again before us, like sudden mist in a vale. It matters little whether Europe is a capitalist plot, or a corporatist one, or even a socialist one. It is not a Tory ideal, or a Labour dream, both parties been neatly cleaved on the issue. It does not matter how we got here; but it matters a great deal how we go from here. And the issue is not just about leaving, or not leaving, the EU. It is about who rules, and how they rule, how participatory democracy should work in a time of advanced technology and instant news, and even more instant false news. It is about division of wealth, about how a diminishing working population supports an expanding resting one. About what should be provided free, or subsidised, and what should be paid for.
We are at a point that if we do not resolve the conflict in front of us, other causes will be bolted to the Brexit argument; Levellers will arise, and Roundheads, and ruthless military men, and preachers. It is almost inconceivable that our civilisation could collapse but that is what the folk of Lebanon thought, and those of Venezuela, and maybe closest to home and most frighteningly, those of Spain in 1936. At times of great peril British politics has always managed to produce leaders not only of great strength able to unite and heal divisions, but ones with strong democratic and inclusive social instincts. We are due such an emergence just about now.
