It is in
the nature of politics that there be certain disagreements that define the
entire conduct of public life. Political parties are meant to represent these
most important differences of opinion.
So in
Britain, we have a Labour Party and a Conservative Party whose existence is the
demonstration of the disagreement over the role of the state in economic
affairs, which for a century has been the question with which we have had to
most contend.
This is
as it should be.
Edmund
Burke, nearly 250 years ago, prized parties as the means by which public life could
be conducted according to private virtues, and by which bonds of personal and
ideological affinities could resist the corrupting allure of power.
True, for 50 years the hold of the two major parties over the electorate has weakened,
and this perhaps represents a variance between the great issues over which the
two parties differ, and the great issues over which the electorate most differ,
but the basic function remains the same: there are some profound issues which
generate the distinction between parties, and all other political disagreements
come to be as a result of the party-division.
But I
believe that there is a particular sort of issue that is particularly
ill-suited to this scheme, that is particularly important, that I fear is
coming, or has already come, to be just one of many differences between left
and right.
If the
misapprehension is not put right, we may soon find our entire political
existence crippled and stunted, or scattered to the winds.
I am talking about
the continued existence of nationhood.
Of
course, the notion that a division between ‘internationalism’ and ‘nationalism’
is compatible with the general division between ‘left’ and ‘right’ does have
some standing.
Whether
one believed that the only objectively valid allegiances were those based on a
common relationship with the means of production, or whether, and this is the
more prevalent on the British left, one felt that ‘the world is my country, all
mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my religion’, any ‘internationalist’
appeal has always had a strong pull.
Indeed,
such has been the prominence of the word that from a Labour Party conference
rostrum it could be used to justify more spending on international aid, a more relaxed
attitude to immigration or integration of immigrants, solidarity with the
Palestinians or anyone else, an ‘ethical’ foreign policy, praising NATO,
invading other countries for their own good, or continued integration into the
European Union.
Now,
concern for the continued existence of nationhood and the integrity of our
political system need not preclude all of these applications of
internationalist sentiment, but it obviously puts us very strongly against the
last two given, and it is these that we should examine most.
I hope
that even the greatest admirers of Karl Marx and Thomas Paine can recognise the
folly of letting some of our leaders use their own philanthropic instincts for
the most malignant ends.
The
notion that this and certain other countries are entitled to annul the
sovereignty of other countries and to assume the supreme political power within
them, supposedly in accordance with a system of international law but in
reality entirely at the aggressors’ own discretion, is incompatible with the
representative principle on which our constitution rests.
It is
therefore utterly destructive, not only of the uncounted lives churned away by
the ministrations of the Angel of Death, nor only of the social fabric of the
countries so treated, but also, though we may not feel it immediately, of the
basis for the conduct of our own public life, and so of our peace and
prosperity.
This is
not the occasion to fully set out the grounds for objecting to the creed of
‘liberal interventionism’, but it suffices to say now that it is an insult to
our intelligence to suppose that the precedent of the disposability of the
national sovereignty of weaker countries can be set without weakening the
grounds of our own self-government.
It also
undermines our resolve to defend our independence in a more indirect way. This
pertains to an instinct among leftists to see this latter-day ‘imperialism’ as
part of a tradition that besmirches nationhood itself.
It
encourages those who recoil at the memory of the subordination of great swathes
of mankind beneath our and other national flags to blame the flags themselves.
Though
the reflex is understandable, it must be said that it is not justified to hold
past Empires against present nations.
Indeed, a
model for patriotism and anti-aggression combined can be found in those
formerly oppressed territories, in peoples who know what it is to be spat on.
It is an experience to which we ourselves must become accustomed if we wish to
continue with the ‘special relationship’ and European integration.
Another
consequence of this humanitarian aggression is that it perpetuates a perception
of nations that encourages the confusion of political beliefs with polities.
It is
common to talk of ‘Western values’, perhaps subdivided into ‘American values’,
‘British values’ and so on, as opposed to, say, ‘Russian values’ or ‘Chinese
values’.
If by
these labels one wishes to describe the political and social habits of mind
that are particular to a society, and are the product of the geography, history
and so on to which that society has been particularly subjected, then there is
no objection.
But if,
as seems to me to be the case, what is being described is a proposition
submitted to the world for consideration and possible imitation, then there is
a fault. Nations are not arguments.
They are
not the product of ingenious minds, but of the continued resolve of their
inhabitants to carry on under the control of each other, and through that
control to accept the influence of forces echoing down onto the present from
the past.
When we
understand this, we begin to see the folly in treating the choice between being
a member of one sovereign political body or another, and the choice between one
political programme and another, alike.
To
understand this fully, it is necessary to go back to the importance of party in
our political life. It is of course the case that parties may represent
permanent, distinct interests that directly contradictory, and so bound to be
hostile, to one another.
A great
deal of animosity can arise from this – indeed, too little animosity, and many
would be prone to suppose that there is some fault within the representative
system, or that a political elite has lost too much affinity with the general
population.
Despite
this, the entire course of the war between the parties flows with the
understanding that one’s opponents, however bitter, are just as much a part of
the state as oneself is.
No
defeat, however resounding, is taken to be the expulsion of the vanquished from
the battlefield. We must all know that the final outcome of all our political
endeavours will be some admixture, of unforeseeable proportions, between our
allies and our enemies.
I think
we can say that our entire constitution can be summed up in the phrase ‘back
and forth’. As for the choice between membership of a new political entity and
not, how much back and forth can there be? A nation is not like a party – it is
intended to be permanent.
All
governments are temporary, and even the parties themselves exist only so long
as they represent a great animated sentiment within the population, but the
nation is the very vessel in which we are contained.
I hope
that readers have by their own initiative applied the issue of the European
Union to the preceding paragraph. It cannot but be the great contention of our
time.
Since its
first appearance, it has been used by one party or another to effect changes on
our country without subjection to the normal procedures.
The
Conservatives, in joining in 1973, in the Single European Act of 1986, and in
the Treaty of Maastricht of 1992, sought as inconspicuously as possible to
create particular conditions for commerce and trade, having despaired for much
of the post-war period of ever beating back socialism.
Similarly,
the Labour Party, through acceding to the Social Chapter and the Treaty of
Amsterdam in 1997, to the Treaty of Nice in 2001, and to the Treaty of Lisbon
in 2009 sought for their cause shelter from an electorate judged to be too
unenlightened, too lacking in progressive goodness, to have put to them
candidly the terms of policies like immigration and social or commercial
regulation which are so obviously good for them.
It is a cause
for bitter reflection to see our country and our constitution so cheaply
treated by those to whom they are entrusted.
This is
especially so for the Labour Party, the party that is so completely born of the
great cause of popular government, that has been the vehicle for those who in
the past found government so distant and at times contemptuous.
What
bauble could the European Commission possibly offer them, to compensate for the loss of their free and sovereign
Parliament?
Still, if
those on the Left who are guilty of this transgression do not care for the
arguments so far presented here, then perhaps they will listen to warnings to
do with multinational corporations and the like.
However
much we may despair of the tendency of some of our countrymen to vote for the
Conservatives, it is idle to suppose that this country’s government, which sits
perpetually in the gaze of us all, which is ultimately exposed to us, is a
worse custodian of popular interests against hidden hands agitating for secret,
private causes than a government that is unknown and unknowable to the great
majority of us.
Who can
possibly hold faith with the European Commission, or even the European
Parliament, after their surreptitious (because it was made to seem on the
initiative of our government) privatisation of the Royal Mail, or after the
proposed ‘Transatlantic Trade and Investment Partnership’ has only begun to be
exposed to public knowledge after exceptional efforts by certain journalists
and politicians?
There is
no better terrain for lobbyists or secret deal-makers than a government carried
on a mere technical enterprise, based on expertise rather than popular
expression.
I fear
these arguments will prove useless in their intent, for in the end it is a
matter of instinct. You love the constitution and independence of your country,
or you do not; the loss of such things is a cause for bitter grief and
mourning, or it is not.
In the
adoption of nationhood as an ordinary political issue, perhaps the most
infuriating thing has been the habit of the insufferably self-satisfied to,
without considering this matter at any depth, see enthusiasm for these
pernicious enterprises as a mark of sophistication, as a trait that separates
them from the bigoted and the parochial, above all from the unfashionable.
The most
forlorn, and charitable, reproach for these people is that they know not what
they do.
Less
charitably, I say that these people are fools, who treat the most important
affairs in a spiteful and sectarian spirit, who so forget themselves and so
miss the measure of what they flippantly deal with as to endanger us all. It is
no good for such people to protest that they wish to save us from our own
government. I too am unhappy with this government, but it is still mine. In the
end, they must answer to me and my compatriots.
The bonds
created by these national institutions are not like those of a voluntary
organisation, to be contracted or broken off at the discretion of any given
member, but they flow unimpeded, not only through my friends, but my enemies,
not only through my compatriots’ wisdom, but their folly, through knowledge and
ignorance, through peace and discord.
It is
these sentiments that hold us to obey laws passed by our opponents as well as
by our allies, it is these that keep us British regardless of what the British
government does, and it is the principle of these sentiments that are
jeopardised by the surrender of self-government to unaccountable others.
I talk
here not merely of democracy (that wretched word cannot possibly wield the
matter), but of the entire process and set of habits by which our public life
has been lived, and not only of the ballot box.
The
consolation is this: that for all the stupidity and dishonesty practised upon
us by both main parties, the issue has never been utterly subdued.
There is
still a certain something within us that militates against the error being
completed, something that keeps the controversy alive, something that gives us
hope that something else will turn up.