Brexit radicalisation

Pete North, one of the founders of the Leave Alliance, a small pro-Brexit campaign group, released the following tweet this morning: 

"Brexit is a culture war. It is a fight to the death. A fight for democracy itself. It is not good enough to simply leave the EU. We must comprehensively win if we want to save Britain from the destructive paranoia of our rulers. "

This remark is an extreme example of something all too visible: the radicalisation of some Brexiteers, both in tone and content. Victory must be total and metaphorically violent. We see this in the description of MPs as traitors and the demand for a 'no deal' resolution to article 50 negotiations. And it has not gone at all unnoticed how different these demands are to what was said in the referendum campaign.

How did we get here? If we start with the shift in goals, one way of explaining this is a thesis popularised by James O'brien: the movement towards 'no deal' is essentially about avoiding having to give any specific plans about what to do next. A variant on this would be to say that the varying and contradictory demands of Brexiteers could ultimately only coalesce around a negative proposition. A third alternative would be to see the shift as intentional- 'no deal' could never be advocated in a campaign, but was the ultimate desired outcome, or at least the best way of achieving something akin to that as circumstances unraveled. I think these are important and persuasive, and to the extent that the third and first two propositions are contradictory, I suspect the third motivation is less at work. What, I think, they miss, is another, completely different element at work: the self reinforcing radicalisation of Brexiteers in their outlook and attitude.

For this process of psychological and rhetorical radicalisation to make sense to make sense, we have to understand two central mechanism: firstly, the logic of implementation, given the way the referendum was set up, and secondly, the peculiar dynamics of the so called Brexit culture war.

The first point is quite simple. The 2016 referendum had no legal status beyond being advisory. Leave won, but without the support of the then government, or the majority of MPs, or any mechanism for these two facts to automatically change. There was no constitutional guide as to what should happen next, it was all a matter of extra-legal interpretation of what ought to (or what was good politics). Brexiteers were well aware of this, and correctly, or at least rationally, assessed that Brexit could only occur if both MPs and a large chunk of the public continued to believe that it ought to. This meant that the traditional separation of respecting the legitimacy of process and the correctness of the decision somewhat vanished. Provided it could be contemplated that Brexit would not be implemented, or not implemented as desired, if opinion changed, continuing to argue Brexit was a bad idea could indeed potentially have undermined the result. It was not like a general election, where it is easy to subscribe to the validity of the process without liking the outcome. The complexity of the decision and the need for continual and active involvement of those who instinctively did not like it fundamentally blurred this distinction. A key strategic requirement for Brexiteers in this context was to delegitimise opposition. It was this need, as much as the atmosphere of the time, which sowed the seeds of claims that opponents of Brexit were traitors.

The absence of legal parameters also fundamentally changed the accepted criteria for success. Leave got away without precisely defining what Brexit should mean, and once they won, definition was a retroactive activity. Hardliners were always going to be in a position to claim to be the authentic voices of what Brexit was about. Once the settled metric for deciding what Brexit should mean was retroactively asking ‘what is most in keeping with the rationale for voting leave?’, this set in motion a competitive process for finding the most extreme and uncompromising definition, which would naturally seem most authentic. This was not helped by the reality of the available options for leaving, which did not allow for any of the substantive content of the campaign to be implemented without a radical break from the single market. And once the debate became about the correct interpretation of leavers’ rationale for Brexit, whether achieving these goals was worth it, a good idea, or in fact insane became a second order question at best, and indeed an illegitimate one for hardliners. 

The second point has to do with the dynamics of culture wars. By accident or intent, Brexit has become a focal point of general cultural tensions between liberalism and social conservatism. Very few people on either side are much interested in the complexities of how the EU functions, and to some extent support or opposition is a proxy for indicating general political outlook. This has, one way or another, led to the belief that somehow these differences will be resolved by one side 'winning' or 'losing' the dispute, when democratic politics should on some level be about compromise. Both leavers and remainers see an urgency to this, and for both it is about loss. Remainers are worried about the demise of liberalism, this fear extenuated by comparisons of right wing populism to inter-war fascist movements. For the Brexiteers, it is about the perceived slow loss of social conservatism to progressivism, and the loss of status of social conservatives in the media and broader society. 

Political mobilisation in this environment is most easily achieved by appealing to the tropes of this culture war. This sets in motion a process of cumulative radicalisation. Previously outlandish ideas and rhetorical frames of reference become normalised, and convictions are made ever more solid. The need to continuously excite the passions of radicalised supporters, as well as the desire for attention it satisfies, demands ever more outlandish ideas. And the perceived radicalism of political opponents makes the desire for victory more vivid and more totalising in nature. 

This is quite a disturbing thing to witness, and it is easy to lose sight of how quickly this has occurred. Fortunately these ostentatious displays of fanaticism probably do not play well beyond certain core audiences, and I suspect ultimately makes bad politics. And more fortunately still, the UK remains a country where democratic politics is the only means whereby this fanaticism can achieve power. But I do not find this more than a partial comfort. 

Explanation at the margins

Large scale historical events often have deep causes, but useful explanations may also be at the margins. A decent account of the origins of the First World War might well talk about the alliance system, the nature pre 1914 European diplomacy, or the expectation of conflict, but it might also talk about the particulars of Serbian domestic politics, or even the implications of train logistics on Russian mobilisation. Elections are no exception, and analysis of Brexit has become an become an industry.

Given the closeness of the result, and its immediate significance for political parties and campaigners, it makes sense that a large amount of time and attention will be given to marginal changes. In a split that is 52% to 48%, any number of small factors can be seen to have determined the result. But there is one factor that has received particular attention: leave voting Labour voters in the North of England.

This is totally fair enough as a causal explanation. It is a quasi-necessary condition of the victory for Leave, and of course of particular interest to both the Labour and Conservative parties, given that this group has been regarded, perhaps incorrectly, as now a swing group. It is also a valid enough focus for stressing as a causal factor, as it was (to some) in violation of expectations. The problem is when this is conflated with an account of the general character of the leave vote. About 23% (a large chunk, but not the largest) of the Leave vote came from the North of England, and a much smaller group northern labour voters. The largest group of leave voters were Conservative and from the south.

Why has this conflation become so widespread? I think there are a number of reasons why this would occur. For the Conservative party and press, this narrative acts as a means of legitimising the vote. The stereotype lends itself to the idea of the authentic, ordinary person. This is probably what is meant as much by the ‘will of the people’ as a numerical majority (socially conservative politicians talked up the authenticity of this stereotype long before they had grounds to claim it represented a numerical majority). For Labour, it is partly about worrying about losing certain core constituencies, but also partly a tendency on the left to view destabilising events with mass support as driven by the working class.

This conflation is important to recognise, as it can lead to significant misunderstandings of recent events. It can also blind people to important new developments, in particular, that Labour supporters in the North have shown a significant swing away from supporting Brexit.

What we think of the People's Vote campaign shouldn't matter

I am little dismayed over how often I have heard some variation of the following from what might normally be sympathetic voices: "I was warming to the idea of a second referendum, but the elitist and aggressive tone of People's Vote put me off." For what it's worth, I don't think this kind of characterisation is fair; there has been some fantastic work by some very dedicated people, and cameo appearances from celebrities have to a large extent been about generating coverage in an environment where the idea of a second referendum was all but written off a year or so ago.

But even if we agreed with this kind of characterisation (I have at times myself found myself agreeing with it), it should not affect our attitude to the policy. There are some instances in which the character of the proponents of a policy does matter. This might be when we elect a government, or when we judge that there is a significant normative effect of a campaign suceeding. But in this instance, the former is not the case, and the latter is surely less significant than what is at stake. Indeed, rationally, we might even think that if an argument is put forward badly, all other things being equal, the actual case in favour of it is likely to be stronger than it appears.

This is not to suggest that the the effectiveness or strategy of the People's Vote campaign is unimportant. It is deeply important. But we should not base our own support for a second referendum on our appraisal of it.

Brexit and Perestroika

When, a few months ago, the Bank of England released some conditional forecasts on the impact of a no deal Brexit, Paul Krugman, by no means a Brexit fan, took issue with their findings. How could even a no deal Brexit result in an 8% drop in GDP? Figures derived from changes in trade flows would surely result in a much smaller number. Later, he explained than he had been informed by members of the BoE that such forecasts were not merely based on analysis of the effect of trade barriers on patterns of trade , but the impact of supply chain disruption if authorities failed to implement an effective new regime quickly. His response was telling: OK, that makes a little more sense, but surely the British state would be a little more competent at dealing with disruptions of this kind than the BoE figures seem to imply. Perhaps, but perhaps not.

What this illustrates is an important distinction. Picturing what a system might look like in the long term when it adapts to a series of changes is one thing, how, immediately, a system responds to such a set of changes is another. The example of Perestroika in the Soviet Union is a case in point. When, in 1987, Gorbachev presented the basic theses of Perestroika to the Central Committee of the Communist Party, he was presenting policies based closely on what (certainly outside the Soviet Union) were widely accepted economic ideas. The eventual goal made sense: to end central economic planning, and to move towards something more akin to the social market economy, with an active state, but firms largely operating on the basis of price mechanisms. The problem was not with the end goal, it was how it was to be reached. Ending central planning and removing price controls in a system where supply chains, management, political and social structures had evolved under the direction of Gosplan proved so disruptive that the fabric of the Soviet, and later Russian economy, state and society that not only was the short term catastrophic, but the end goal was never reached. Living standards did not return to the level of the mid 1980s until the early 2000s, indeed by some measures they still have not done so. 

What does this mean, in the context of Brexit? Even a good idea, in the case of Perestroika based on an enormous amount of thought and research, and with a clear end state in mind, can end in catastrophe if the short term systemic shock is one too severe for the system to adapt. In the case of Brexit, what we have is a kind of crap Perestroika. There is little in terms of a rationale for the long term, but an analogous risk of short term disruption. This comes through the risk to supply chains, and to political structures in the form of the enormous legal black holes of what happens in a no deal, and the administrative burden of response which may be beyond the capacities of the British state.  Perhaps the British economy, society and politics will be better placed to respond to the shock of a no deal than the Soviet Union was to Perestroika. It is probably impossible to quantify such a risk too precisely. But it is surely worth having a vague idea that such a risk may be real.

Is Brexit democratic?

Chris Dillow and Simon Wren Lewis have both recently written compelling articles about when and whether Labour should support a second referendum. I am big fan of their blogs, so when they write ostensibly contrasting views on a subject very close to my heart I have to wrack my brain a bit to decide what to think. I won’t try and summarise their arguments, as I’m not sure I would do them justice, but would heartily recommend reading both here and here. For the most part I am not certain that there is much practical disagreement about what to do now. Dillow is more convinced that a second referendum can only be offered as a last resort when all other options fail, but given this failure will likely occur within the next few weeks such a difference may be insubstantial.

One thing I do disagree with in Dillow’s piece is the accordance with the characterisation of delivering Brexit as ‘the democratic thing to do’. This is certainly what is widely believed, and Dillow is correct in saying that some remainers underestimate how significant this belief is as a motivator. I don’t doubt that many people in the Labour party have a strong sense of duty to deliver a result they themselves do not like. And politically, this belief is a very significant factor to consider. Dillow may simply be referring to the beliefs of others. He argues that politically this needs problem needs to be answered before Brexit can be stopped, which I think is both correct, and suggests at most an ambivalent attitude to the democratic nature of the vote. In case this is not so, I would like to offer a few reasons why I do not believe the referendum process or its implementation should be viewed as democratic.

Firstly, a vote cannot be considered democratic if key stake holders are excluded from the electoral process. This particular vote disenfranchised both EU citizens in the UK and UK citizens in the EU; in other words, precisely those most  likely to be affected by the decision had no say in it.

Secondly, there are some decisions where we would not think it legitimate for decisions to be taken on a majoritarian basis, even where relevant stake holders were included in the decision making process. Some decisions we would think of as only legitimately taken by the individual, some locally, some  by particular interest groups like trade unions etc. This, practicalities aside,  is why we tend to believe in restrictions in the role of central government in the private life, in some measure of local government, and in some idea of legitimate action by governments internationally. It is why a referendum on Scottish independence is not a UK wide referendum, why minority rights should be protected even if the majority does not want to, and why certain areas of life should be considered as belonging to the private sphere, either de facto, or through formal written constitution. It is not clear to me why a decision which is explicitly taken  by those with political power as a mandate to curtail what were previously viewed as political rights, particularly important to a now vulnerable group, should be viewed as democratically legitimate.

Thirdly, the most important thing about democracy always struck me to be about the system, rather than the particular moment or decision. The value of elections was more about its role in allowing for representation, empowerment and accountability than in any particular result being the ‘correct’ momentary aggregation of preferences. This means that what really matters about Brexit democratically is its effect on the constitution as a whole. This has been uniquely corrosive, and will continue to be so. It has led to an executive power grab, called into question the role of MPs, had lasting damage on political norms, and was won initially by breaking the rules. Which course of action will minimize this continuing damage is a difficult question, but I would argue that there is substantial damage to  liberal democratic norms by continuing on this path.

Does economic self interest explain the policies of the Conservative Party?

One of the most striking features of the modern Conservative party is how little resemblance it bears to many left wing caricatures. And I don't mean that in a good way. If Marx was right, and"the executive of the modern state is but a committee for the managing of the collective affairs of the bourgeoisie" then the British Conservative Party isn't much of a party of government. In the In the last two years, Conservative backbenchers, the Conservative backing press and party membership have forced the government to relentlessly pursue a form of Brexit which will result in profound economic dislocation in the short term in order to achieve a significantly less favourable set of economic arrangements in the long term. One could scarcely imagine a policy less driven by business interests. And it's not as if this is a question of a kind of false consciousness of the high capitalist: with the notable exception of a manufacturer of innovative fans and a pub-chain tycoon, the captains of industry and finance are pretty clear on what their interests, collective and individual are, and boy is this not it.

But it would be a mistake to see this as an aberration which started on June 24th, 2016. The central economic strategy of the Cameron government, the essential raison d'etre of the premiership, was in no real sense a representation of the interests of big money. Austerity, in slowing the recovery from the financial crisis of 2007-2008, has meant excess money chasing limited investment opportunities, and lower real returns on capital than would otherwise have been seen. And since the Keynesian alternative said nothing about the need for increased rates of taxation at the higher end, if the Conservative party were merely a vessel for the interests of capital, fiscal policy since 2010 would have been very different indeed.
In the specific case of Cameron and Osborne, this may have been the result of a genuine intellectual error. In the immediate aftermath of the financial crash, many observers reasonably believed that some of the damage, particularly to financial services may have been permanent and irreversible. This would have meant a supply side shock reducing economic capacity, which would neutralise, at least in part, the case for fiscal expansion. A tell tale sign that this was indeed the correct assessment was a bout of inflation in 2011, though this did, as a number of commentators at the time predicted, turn out to be due to a hike in oil prices rather than a sign that the economy was already operating at capacity. When this all turned out,as the Keynesians predicted, to be completely wrong, Cameron and Osborne were so politically invested in their fiscal approach that a volte face was not possible.
The fact that Conservative Britain at large continued, and largely continues to believe in this folly is unlikely to be explained by an intellectual error in evaluating such technical arguments. That it does so in spite of business and financial institutions pleading for increased investment is a testament to the fact that the contemporary Conservative party is anything but the party of organised capital. That is not to say that many of its supporters, and indeed those who are driving such policies are not wealthy as individuals. But they are not acting in line with anything remotely approximating class interest. Nor, for that matter, is money a sufficient condition for power within the Conservative. Rather, power is defined by and exerted on behalf of the prejudices and opinions of individuals who happen to be wealthy, and may occupy positions which require a high level of wealth, such as proprietorship of a major newspaper, but whose power is not in proportion to that wealth.
What, then, if not financial gain, is the animating feature of the modern British Conservative Party? The American intellectual historian Corey Robin might have a few ideas. In The Reactionary Mind, he argues that conservatism (he primarily means 19th Century British and 20th Century American) is primarily motivated by a reaction against a perceived loss of privileged in a social hierarchy. He does not argue that this has no economic dimension to it; one does not have to be an ardent Marxist to see a rough overlap of social and economic relations. But the key sense of loss and percieved threat is to social status, not material wealth. That the two may tend to coincide is nothing more than a likely and hence frequent coincidence.
This thesis is probably either too universal in its formation, or too obscure in its definition. Clearly not all individuals we would think of as conservative behave in this way. But as a rough picture of something which might often be the case, it seems like a pretty good start, and quite relevant to contemporary Britain. Austerity may not have advanced the economic interests of conservative backers, let alone 'capital' is a whole, but it did follow the prejudices about the efficacy and correct size of the state of a large number of people who tend to be at least somewhat well off. The reaction is perhaps less about perceived financial interests and more a suspicion of state action in the economy as an encroachment on property rights.
If this seems more far fetched than to suppose intellectual error, we might ask why a particular group have proven particularly susceptible to this error. As for Brexit, the best predictor of whether one voted remain or leave in the 2016 referendum are attitudes to thinks like immigration, education and crime and punishment. The picture which emerges is quite clear: those with liberal, pluralistic attitudes voted remain, those with authoritarian, monocultural attitudes voted leave. Brexit is primarily a reaction against social liberalism, and the perceived loss of social status of those with traditional conservative views. The focus of many conservatives on the culture of political correctness and student progressive activism is quite a clear illustration of this. What greater loss of social standing and respectability could one have than seeing ones own views and ideas regarded as immoral and unacceptable, particularly if raised in an environment where moral character had been a defining feature of identity?
Viewed in this sense, the Brexit revolution has been anything but a failure. It has been seen the most swift and thorough elevation of social reactionaries to their old place at the top of the moral and political hierarchy. And one cannot help but conclude that if only that form of bastardised, crude Marxism that might have made old Karl blush were true, and conservatism really had represented the interests of capital and capital alone we might have avoided much of the worst of the political developments after the financial crisis. This is not to say that this would be sufficient, or that the such interests, themselves hardly uniform, would generally be coextensive with the greater good. But, if we are going to have a Conservative government, I'd rather have the mythical Conservative-capitalist party than the actually existing one of Jacob Rees Mogg.