Two - a House, divided into flats, where neighbours hate each other

The Greeks posited there was a five-point political spectrum, originating in anarchy, advancing to democracy, finding its apex in the republic, then lapsing into oligarchy, and degenerating into tyranny.

The Brexit campaign — which only began with the referendum — is a contest in which each faction corresponds to a point on this arc: fascist populism, lending itself to both anarchy and tyranny, in the form of Theresa May and her braying mob; calm deliberation, the default setting of a republic, practiced by free agents like A.C. Grayling and Nick Clegg; and finally, the historic misalliance between David Cameron, a natural oligarch, and the democracy he courted, so awkwardly, to advance his own agenda.

Cameron’s choice to hold a referendum on the EU was bolstered by his luck in the referendum in Scotland, prior to which, while being grilled by a Scottish MP about post-separation partition of oil revenues, he issued a sublime hostage to fortune: “If you want a stupid answer, ask a stupid question.”

More philosophically, John Major acknowledged the tedium of free will, much like the weary parent of a self-destructive child, in his speech at Chatham House: “Eight months ago a majority of voters opted to leave the European Union. I believed then – as I do now – that was an historic mistake, but it was one – once asked – that the British nation had every right to make.”

Dave’s approach was more Machiavellian. He was sure he could use the voters to suit his own purposes, which were: a) to outflank the recalcitrant elements in his own party; and b) to pry concessions from the EU. He attempted to play both sides against the middle. All he succeeded in doing, was raising expectations before failing to deliver anything substantive.

To employ a housing metaphor — irresistible in a country where the housing market has collapsed — it’s like buying an aggressive dog, using it to ward off your neighbours and the bailiffs, then getting bitten; so, you abandon it. To Dave, this barking dog, is “the people.”

Dave invoked a third party to dodge a fight he was loathe to have with his own camp. He failed the first test of leadership, which is to speak truth to power, which in England, means speaking truth to the mob.

There is only one person in recent memory who did not commit this sort of bad faith, and uncannily enough, that is Tony Blair. Doubtless Tony was craven in his relationship with George W. Bush, and supine in his pursuit of the Atlantic alliance, but his attitude toward his own party was unimpeachable. The reason Labour came to power in 1997, and held it until 2010, is that Tony never stopped exhorting his troops to take a deep breath and march forward, like Orpheus, never casting a glance behind them.

Tony’s decade in power was the only glimpse that England is likely to get of the New Left, that is, progressive, technocratic, economically literate socialism, as opposed to the ham-fisted, tone-deaf, obtuse kind that Jeremy Corbyn practices. This is the kind of socialism that prevails in Europe.

All the ambivalence around the EU leaves one pondering the anxieties of influence to which this country is susceptible. A quasi-socialist, semi-oligarchic, formerly imperial, constitutionally democratic country, is apt to have the odd identity crisis. England has always resisted being labeled, because it reserved the right to adapt with the changing times, treaties, and trading patterns. That was a wise vow. Now, it is just addled.

The reason that people did not trust “the experts,” when counselled to heed their advice — to be responsible, to be prudent — is that the “experts,” have been anything but. The Conservatives have been engaged in a thoroughly opportunist and fratricidal mud-wrestling bout over Europe.

The antipathy between Crown and Commons that degenerated into civil war in the seventeenth century, has been replicated in the attrition between two blocs within the Conservative party: those who favour Europe, on economic grounds, and those who seethe at the mention of it, ostensibly because Brussels has coveted power to which it is not entitled. This is a debate within the right, which is why Labour has so little to contribute, leaving the inadequacy of its leader to one side.

It is worth invoking Cromwell’s example, because several hundred years of common law, precedent, and Parliamentary authority, have just sailed out the window. That leaves us with power, naked and unblushing, warts and all. And nothing ages faster than exposed flesh. I would submit that the Brexit vote was a mass, popular equivalent of a beheading: 52% of voters cried, “Off with their Heads!”

The Commonwealth of Massachusetts – my home state – pre-dated the declaration of the Commonwealth in what was, then, yet to be Great Britain. It was a destination that Cromwell considered when, disgusted with both King and Commons, he pondered emigrating. He kept up a correspondence with some of the founders of the American experiment, no mean feat in the seventeenth century. It is likely that their conviction, to begin the world anew, was not lost on him when he ended the absolute monarchy.

Power, to Cromwell, could not be guaranteed by warring factions in a hapless government, any more than a Catholic King, anxious to tie himself to Rome and the continent. Effectively, he was a mediator, who took power on behalf of freedom of conscience, so long as its exercise did not threaten the equilibrium of civil society. He ended a civil war whose roots were in religious intolerance, and took seriously Shakespeare’s lesson in Henry V: “Every man’s soul’s his own.”

Whereas Theresa May has lectured “the losers” – to employ her felicitous term – to accept “the legitimacy” of the referendum, which is laughable. If you have to insist that a policy is “legitimate,” it probably isn’t, in contrast with one that Jefferson would have classed as self-evident. It also begs the question of how a policy could be legitimate, if it were perceived not to be. Legitimacy is a question of perception; and we do not tell people how to think, yet, in this country.

The grounds for legitimacy, in a country that governs itself, are our representative institutions, whose members we elect. These are exactly the people that Theresa bullied into approving the Brexit process, by promising to bulldoze them if they questioned it. Brexit does not represent only a loss of trade or prosperity; it represents an erosion of our democracy. It is a frenzied power grab, by an ugly mob.

Theresa’s introduction to the Brexit White Paper reads like a cover letter sent in response to a recruitment drive for a petty dictator. Hence, why it was life-affirming to read John Major urge Brexit advocates, and Theresa, to employ “less cheap rhetoric.” It is worth quoting his Chatham House speech at length:

“their cheerleaders have shown a disregard that amounts to contempt for the 48% who believed our future was more secure within the European Union… This 48% care no less for our country than the 52% who voted to leave… They do not deserve to be told that, since the decision has been taken, they must keep quiet and toe the line. A popular triumph at the polls – even in a referendum – does not take away the right to disagree – nor the right to express that dissent. Freedom of speech is absolute in our country. It’s not “arrogant” or “brazen” or “elitist”, or remotely “delusional” to express concern about our future after Brexit. Nor, by doing so, is this group undermining the will of the people: they are the people. Shouting down their legitimate comment is against all our traditions of tolerance. It does nothing to inform and everything to demean – and it is time it stopped. Our Parliament exists to scrutinise the Executive. That is its job. So, it is depressing to see “Leave” enthusiasts in Parliament acting against their own principles. To win the Referendum, they asserted the sovereignty of our own Parliament: now, they speak and vote to deny that same Parliament any meaningful role in shaping, in overseeing, or in approving the outcome of our negotiations in Europe. Our Parliament is not a rubber stamp – and should not be treated as if it were.”

Let me sketch the worst-case scenario: if these people don’t get what they want, with this bit of populist terrorism, what Professor Ajami termed “suicide voting,” what is left with which to bribe them, or persuade them to bargain with us? Are we heading toward domestic terrorism, à la the Red Army Faction, the Red Brigades, or the IRA? This scenario is not as far-fetched as it sounds.

The factors that propelled us over the Brexit cliff will not be mitigated by the process of leaving the EU. This is ironic, probably tragic. As John Major put it, “I have watched with growing concern as the British people have been led to expect a future that seems to be unreal and over-optimistic. Obstacles are brushed aside as of no consequence, whilst opportunities are inflated beyond any reasonable expectation of delivery.”

To general acknowledgement, Brexit will do the opposite of what people wanted when they voted for it: the households and the regions that are relatively less affluent, will be radically less so; and the people who are well-off already, will become a caste in which membership is restricted and largely hereditary. You have re-created the class system, with no offsets, like job security.

“Welfare shakeup ‘will push a quarter of a million children into poverty’,” by Patrick Butler and Anushka Asthana, 2 April 2017, The Guardian; “George Osborne’s benefits cuts legacy set to come into effect,” by Jessica Elgot and Rowena Mason, 1 April 2017, The Guardian; “Parts of U.K. that voted for Brexit may be hardest hit, study finds,” by Dan Roberts, 27 March 2017, The Guardian; “Mapped: Where in the U.K. receives the most EU funding and how does this compare with the rest of Europe?” by Daniel Dunford, 1 June 2016, The Telegraph.

This was a dialog of the deaf: an episode of crossed wires and parody populism worthy of the best Monty Python sketch, co-authored by Dario Fo. It was in the genre of the absurd, like most bad political performances. It was a great, gluttonous belch from the man you hadn’t noticed sitting behind you.

It’s as if some greasy, donkey-coated character had hijacked the bus that we’re riding in, and started whipping up the crowd. Some of the passengers are actually cheering him on. The bus is barreling forward. We’re looking for the emergency exit. We’re hoping that we don’t hit anyone idly crossing a road. They’ve opened a beer, and they’re passing it around, hollering out the windows, giving the fist and the finger to all whom we pass. You think you can hear sirens. You pray they catch up. You hope they have water cannons. It’s like some crazy demented dream from which you can’t wake up.

My question, to those who voted Brexit, is, “What do you expect this process to accomplish?”

We have parachutes in the form of passports from other countries. Some of you are not so lucky. So you may want to consider – rather than importing another bunch of people like my husband and me – addressing yourselves to your neighbours, colleagues, fellow travellers, and having a difficult conversation about Brexit: why they voted for it, and what they expect it to achieve.

It doesn’t rise to the level of a debate, so I’m not having one. I’m not accepting comments. I’m not trawling or trolling. I’m merely trying to offer a reflection of where this society is heading.