Archive for the ‘Northern Hinterlands’ Category

Depth Change

February 27, 2018

This story of mine is now up at the fabulous Your One Phone Call zine.

And over at Shiny, I review Imogen Hermes Gowar’s startling Regency tale.


Notes from the Jungle

January 12, 2018

Darren McGarvey had every right to make this book all about himself. He grew up in the tough Pollock social estate of south Glasgow, an environment where ‘a simple trip to the shop around the corner was a risk to your safety’. His mother’s life was dominated by drink and drug problems, and she died aged just 36. McGarvey himself struggled with addiction and homelessness. To stay sane the young McGarvey got into rap music, took part in community protests, made a name for himself, and eventually reached the point where he was seen by the establishment as an authentic working class voice. But only if he said what the establishment wanted to hear.

The testimony about my childhood was fine but they were less keen on the observations I started to make as my understanding of poverty, its causes and impacts, deepened. I was growing and learning and evolving, as I had been all my life, and this created new lines of enquiry that I would immediately pursue, no matter the consequences. Queries such as ‘Who makes the decisions about your budget?’ and ‘How do we solve poverty if all your jobs depend on it?’ were making people around me nervous.

Britain welcomes working class voices, as long as they are happy to be defined entirely by their background. And Poverty Safari gives us a world-class account of what it is like to be poor. Books like this are normally described as ‘visceral,’ or ‘hard-hitting,’ but McGarvey achieves much more with his terse, low-key style. In this slim volume he encompasses a tower-block worth of lifetimes. The impact of growing up, surrounded by chaos and tension; the defence mechanisms that harden into irreversible neural pathways, the core beliefs that form (‘This isn’t for the likes of me’, ‘The state owes me a living’, ‘Everything bad that happens is someone else’s fault’) the feeling that you have been judged as soon as you enter a room, and that the real conversations are going on without you: the development of static and corrosive communities. For a long time the exceptional book on the white working class was Michael Collins’s The Likes of Us. McGarvey’s collection of essays and vignettes is arguably even better: there are pieces (‘A History of Violence’ and ‘The Changeling’ come to mind) that remind you of Orwell at his brightest and most accomplished. How eloquently he cuts through the modern culture-war bullshit and actually says something.

One point McGarvey emphasises again and again is that we can’t just sit around waiting for a new economic or political system to appear, and that the public sector is not necessarily the answer. Council, arts and third sector organisations descended on estates like Pollok even through the austerity years. Action plans were written, conferences held, officers hired, meetings convened… and not much changed. The suspicion forms that the various public agencies had a structural interest in seeing working class people as victims. Personal responsibility and the potential of the individual to change their lives has been gifted to the political Right.

The public sector – and a lot of the private sector – relies upon a complex system of language and ritual that is difficult for most people. If you can learn the script, and jump through the hoops at person spec and interview stage, then maybe – maybe – you’ll be ‘cut in’. If not, you’re left to the debt and conditionality serfdom of the modern welfare state. This is also, McGarvey writes, one of the many issues with intersectional politics and virtue culture. He points out: ‘The very members of the vulnerable and marginalised communities intersectionality is designed to empower may feel baffled by the jargon, afraid to speak up or ask questions, anxious that they might misspeak and be condemned or exiled.’

Throughout the book McGarvey stuns the reader with the force of his imaginative empathy and willingness to take on new perspectives – so in that spirit I’ll take issue with a few of his remarks. The passages on immigration are the only conventional parts of Poverty Safari. Having legitimate concerns about migration doesn’t make you racist, McGarvey says: ‘to claim there are no legitimate concerns about immigration is useless and fails to account for the extent to which politics are rooted in the emotional reality of people’s lives.’ The Brexit vote, he says, was ‘perhaps a glimpse of what happens when people start becoming aware of the fact they haven’t been cut into the action but have no real mechanism to enfranchise themselves beyond voting… When the full wrath of working class anger is brought to bear on the domain of politics, sending ripples through our culture, it’s treated like a national disaster.’

No one would seriously deny problems arising from the waves of immigration following the fall of the Wall, A8 accession and the refugee crisis. But listening to legitimate concerns is practically all politicians have been doing for twenty years. From the New Labour period, governments passed laws restricting migrant entry and entitlements, enforcing the state’s detention and deportation powers; ministers and journalists appeared on talk shows, almost breathless and overwhelmed by their own bravery in ‘talking about immigration’. The problem with this approach has been that you can’t necessarily deport your way out of the problem – you have to deport a lot of people to produce an impact that the public will notice – and that generations of migration has already changed this country in ways that can’t and shouldn’t be reversed. Where does the economic argument against immigration end and the cultural argument begin? What are we supposed to do, tear down the mosques and Asian supermarkets? And there is often an ominous subtext in the warnings of the ‘social discohesion’ that can happen if legitimate concerns are not met. What a lovely cosmopolitan city you’ve got there. Go up a treat, that would…

The tide is already turning. Professionals are beginning to think in terms of recruitment crises and skill shortages rather than trying to accommodate an abundance of foreign jobseekers. McGarvey also says that ‘the people in society who are pro immigration are usually those who feel connected, involved or have been cut into the action in some way and are thus invested in the process.’ I regret to tell him that over ten years of pro-migration blogging this ungrateful lobby has yet to distribute wealth and power in my direction. And I suspect that most people, while probably not open borders enthusiasts, do not share the defining and passionate opposition to net migration characteristic of the far right and the left behind.

Culture warriors idealise a vision of an authentic working class against the decadent bourgeois. But this sort of thing creates its own backlash. People are sick of the idea of the ‘left behind’ as some kind of victim group that can’t be challenged. In the intersectional academic world, McGarvey says, no one talks about ‘racism within the LGBT community, homophobia among African Americans, debate about transgenderism in feminist communities, subjugation of women in Muslim communities’… and now, apparently, we can’t talk about working class racism. Do I think that people should be shunned for expressing racism? Hell no. I will talk to anyone. But the next time we debate the ‘uncomfortable truths’ let’s do what McGarvey does in his exceptional book, and define what exactly it is we’re dealing with here.

London Magazine Essay

December 10, 2017

I am amazed and delighted to have come second in this award. The essay took a lot of thought and care and I thought I might (just) be shortlisted – but to be on the podium of such a prestigious award was way beyond my expectations.

I think the winners will be published just in print in the February/March issue of the magazine.

And at Shiny, I have also reviewed the phenomenal American War by Omar el Akkad.

Weather With You

November 26, 2017

My story of this name appears with the good folks at HCE Review.

And over at Shiny, I’ve (unexpectedly) turned royal correspondent to review Craig Brown’s fabulous biography of Princess Margaret.

Let The Art Monsters Play

November 24, 2017

There’s a Paris Review piece I’ve seen circulating on newsletters and social media. I had a read of it today. The greater part of Claire Dederer’s essay was unfortunately lost on me as I’m not a film guy and haven’t seen any Woody Allen films – I say unfortunately because Dederer wrestles at such length with the question: can you enjoy Woody Allen films while aware of his personal reprehensibility? Dederer says: ‘Look, I don’t get to go around feeling connected to humanity all the time. It’s a rare pleasure. And I’m supposed to give it up just because Woody Allen misbehaved? It hardly seems fair.’

She goes through it for paragraphs – her feelings about the movies, her experiences of watching the movies at different points in her life, arguments with friends about the movies. She includes a dialogue with a male friend about the film Manhattan:

‘You’re just thinking about Soon-Yi—you’re letting that color the movie. I thought you were better than that.’

‘I think it’s creepy on its own merits, even without knowing about Soon-Yi.’

‘Get over it. You really need to judge it strictly on aesthetics.’

Reading all this, it strikes me that this is a conversation about ‘high art’. Can you imagine this conversation about O J Simpson, R Kelly, Gary Glitter? (‘Get over it. You really need to judge Happy People/U Saved Me on its aesthetics.’) Dederer writes: ‘I suppose this is the human condition, this sneaking suspicion of our own badness. It lies at the heart of our fascination with people who do awful things. Something in us—in me—chimes to that awfulness, recognizes it in myself, is horrified by that recognition, and then thrills to the drama of loudly denouncing the monster in question.’

Then Dederer turns her focus inward:

Look at all the awful things I haven’t done. Maybe I’m not a monster.

But here’s a thing I have done: written a book. Written another book. Written essays and articles and criticism. And maybe that makes me monstrous, in a very specific kind of way.

Why does it make Dederer monstrous? Because ‘A book is made out of small selfishnesses. The selfishness of shutting the door against your family. The selfishness of ignoring the pram in the hall. The selfishness of forgetting the real world to create a new one.’

She goes on to say this:

When you finish a book, what lies littered on the ground are small broken things: broken dates, broken promises, broken engagements. Also other, more important forgettings and failures: children’s homework left unchecked, parents left untelephoned, spousal sex unhad. Those things have to get broken for the book to get written.

Sure, I possess the ordinary monstrousness of a real-life person, the unknowable depths, the suppressed Hyde. But I also have a more visible, quantifiable kind of monstrousness—that of the artist who completes her work.

I recently read What’s There is Therethe new anthology of Norman Geras’s writing. If you’ve never heard of the professor and blogger, this is a good introductory collection, with essays and thoughts on war, terrorism, compassion, and literature. Geras spent a lot of his life writing about the duty to help others versus personal self interest. In a blog post titled ‘Why does football matter?’ he argues that:

Even if one thinks – as I do – that we have obligations as human beings to others in grave need, difficulty or danger, to demand of people that they give all of their time and attention to such things amounts to demanding of them that they sacrifice the whole part of their lives which might otherwise be given to pursuing their own enjoyments and their own happiness. That would be an exorbitant expectation.

Sure, Dederer’s own duties as she writes them are more local. And I want to say: ‘Claire! Jesus! Give yourself a break!’ A life comprised of nothing except responsibility would be a life half lived – and it’s my view that we make mistakes, and cause more trouble down the line, when we overcommit ourselves and take on more responsibility than we want and can handle. Everyone needs time out – and if every time out, moment of solitude or diversion, is selfish, then so be it. Ask the golf widow.

As Geras also said: ‘Football matters to those to whom it does matter just in the way that, for others, ballet, music, walking in the countryside, literature, movies and gardening matter – in the way, indeed, that life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness matter.’

We know that evil men leveraged their talent into positions of power where they could exploit others. Should that become a barrier or impediment for the exercise of your own talent, and pleasure derived? Hell no. There’s no reason to deny yourself a moment of doing something you like and are good at. The art monsters need to be let out of the closet every once in a while, and allowed to play in the fields.

On Sin, Passivity, Aggression

November 4, 2017

A few years ago a local ideas festival in my city held a panel debate called ‘Has lad culture gone too far?’ This innocuous title turned out to be misleading – I suspect that the event had been organised by a fringe libertarian group to publicise its own agenda and that most of the audience (and the festival organisers) weren’t aware of that. I wandered down out of curiosity. True to form, there was a local councillor and a sexual violence support worker for balance, but the panel was dominated by a couple of men who pushed heavy politicised grievances against the feminist movement – portrayed as a network of hysterics trying to police free speech and behaviour. As the evening dragged on, the atmosphere inside the community hall grew pricklier. I heckled. Other people heckled. Women walked out of the hall, visibly shaken with anger.

That night came back to me as I followed the sexual assault and harassment scandal of the past few weeks. It feels like a turning point, but then Savile and the celeb scandals felt like a turning point and I still remember people at the time, with the reflexive bitterness that passes for cynicism in this country, saying that it was all a ‘witchhunt’, a ‘bandwagon’, that accusers were ‘attention seeking’ and all of this. What I learned though, was that the real personal liberty at the core of it all is physical autonomy. You have nothing without it. The struggle for physical autonomy was a significant part of anti slavery and torture movements, it has been written into international law and is the reason we have courts and prisons. Argue against feminism all you want, but if you think women should just put up with being groped, hassled and followed around, as a matter of course, then you are no kind of liberal or libertarian. Don’t pretend you are talking out of good faith.

I also wonder about the proposed safeguards to this kind of thing. Political correspondents cry ‘If only Parliament had a proper HR department’ without considering that, outside the Westminster village, HR is very much part of the problem. Things get covered up, because ‘he’s a good manager, he’s been with us 37 years, he will be unioned up, the papers might get involved and it’s all too difficult.’ Lashing together some kind of regulatory body for the HoC won’t change anything. There’s a reason these things happen to large sclerotic semi accountable organisations, it is because people like their pay scales, their flexi and their little games – any serious reform that threatens this will be quietly tabled forever. Harvey Weinstein is Harvey Weinstein, Jimmy Savile is Jimmy Savile, he’s been with us Xlight years… papers might get involved… too difficult…

I can, off the top of my head, think of reasonable safeguards that could minimise sexual harassment in workplaces. My ideas may well have all kinds of flaws and complications, they may have already been implemented with problems arising, but I use this blog to blue sky. Don’t worry, I don’t want segregated spaces or speech codes – these are just simple proposals which would in my view be good for workers’ rights anyway.

1) Ensure a reasonable gender ratio in offices or on projects – because, obviously, men are unlikely to harass women if there are other women around

2) Introduce entry-level representation at strategy/board level and ensure that a reasonable proportion of reps are women. A senior exec is less likely to harass a woman employee if he knows he’ll be facing that employee at a strategy meeting the next day.

3) Build protections into employment law that allow employees to discuss workplace experiences outside the workplace – including on social media. As long as data protection is not breached, there’s no reason people should not be able to discuss work matters on Facebook or in the pub. The workplace omerta must be broken.

Of course these would only be structural changes and would not address social misogyny and the established level of entitlement that an alarming number of men seem to have. But, if a sense of entitlement can lead to evils, so can humility. Part of the reason that predatory men get away with what they do, is because we are all conditioned to an extent into passivity – to accept what is, manage your expectations, keep your head down and say nothing. This stuff is drummed into you at a young age and reinforced in adulthood by workplace conditionality, class etiquette, credit and debt, libel courts and half a hundred other things. Even the advice we give to prevent sexual assaults – plan your night, don’t walk home alone, stick to main roads – is commonsensical but reinforces that sense of passivity.

The problem is us, Jonathan Freedland writes today, and also says that ‘I suspect most of us have been interrogating our own past or present conduct in the workplace, wondering if we’ve been getting it wrong. We all need to make that effort, and to make it in good faith.’ And I agree – a moral inventory of this kind is useful, and necessary. But we can all try in our lives to be more proactive, when it counts, and less passive. It won’t be easy, but it can be done. The courageous stories and reportage on this subject over the last few weeks is hopefully just the beginning of how.

Remember When: John Darnielle’s ‘Universal Harvester’

August 21, 2017

In Ottessa Moshfegh’s Eileen – probably the standout novel of 2016 – the narrator is trapped in a town she calls ‘X-ville’, where ‘the streets in my neighborhood were all tree lined and orderly, houses loved and tended to with pride and affection and a sense of civic order that made me ashamed to be so messy, so broken, so bland. I didn’t know that there were others like me in the world, those who didn’t ‘fit in,’ as people like to put it. Furthermore, as is typical for any isolated, intelligent young person, I thought I was the only one with any consciousness, any awareness of how odd it was to be alive, to be a creature on this strange planet Earth. I’ve seen episodes of The Twilight Zone which illustrate the kind of straight-faced derangement I felt in X-ville. It was very lonely.’

Small towns are also the subject for John Darnielle in his short and curious novel Universal Harvester. The setting is Iowa rather than New England, and jumps about through time rather than sticking to the mid 1960s. There is quietness, routine, comfort, and a loneliness that feels almost solid, that raises your awareness to the point of high altitude.

While Moshfegh’s protagonist wants to escape places like this, Darnielle’s seek to understand them. He starts with the connections between people. For Jeremy Heldt, a video store clerk living with his widowed father, ‘conversations tended towards simple genealogy and geography: who was related to whom, who lived where now, where they’d lived in the first place… These conversations, endlessly repeatable at any family gathering, were a zero-stakes game. Is Pete still in Tama? No, he got a job over in Marshalltown working in sales for Lennox. Is that the air-conditioning people?…’ But at some point, always, ‘the trail went cold’ and it’s the same small town silence again. ‘The lowest form of conversation,’ Tony Soprano complains in the HBO show, is ‘Remember when’.

The first chapters, which take place in the late nineties, constitute a quietly brilliant depiction of father and son relationships. Jeremy is a college graduate, his father is a low level white collar worker, both are still shaken by the death of Jeremy’s mother. They enjoy a beer and a movie together, but conversation isn’t easy, even though there is no hostility between them – both men are just constantly, acutely aware of each other’s presence. Darnielle is a subtle master of relationships between basically good men.

He picks up this theme of connection later on in the story, and later on in time, when ‘people see more of their high school classmates on Facebook every day than they previously would have in their entire lives after graduation.’ The undergraduates of the 2010s, visiting retired parents in present-day Iowa are investigating a string of missing persons, perhaps connected to a religious cult. The families of the missing put up an appeal website that ‘boasted all the trappings of the initial expansion of the Internet from college campuses and computer laboratories to the wider world: site design from a template supplied by the host, clip art, and several uncorrected spelling errors in the single paragraph atop the frame.’

From the mid twentieth century, something has invaded this quiet world: the strange church, the disappearances connected to it, and something else as well. Jeremy’s video store customers begin to return their tapes early, complaining that the movies on them have been spliced with other movies – odd, furtive handheld clips, called things like ‘Shed #4’, that give disquieting impressions of captivity and restraint.

Universal Harvester is a brief book, in which not much happens, but it could have been twice as long and still not lost the reader’s attention. I suspect it will baffle readers for generations to come. Darnielle writes about a region that is ‘quiet, unremarkable, well ordered and well lit, just exactly enough of everything for the people within its boundaries. A little drab from the outside, maybe: slow, or plain. But who, outside, will ever see it, or learn the subtleties of its textures, the specific tensions of its warp and weft?’ In his remarkable novel Darnielle comes closest to the mystery behind these tensions.

Let’s Go Back To College

August 11, 2017

Political commentary at its best is disputatious. Pundits are unlikely to give government credit for policies. Except when it comes to tuition fees. From James Bloodworth on the left, to Daniel Mahoney on the right, everyone agrees what a good idea tuition fees were and how unfair it would be to get rid of them.

Both writers make good arguments, and there are good reasons for such uniformity of opinion. Tuition fees are a minor policy issue compared to everything else that’s going on. Marching against them seems self-indulgent, and if you’re not a student yourself, you’re going to look like some fool trying to recover his lost youth. And many students – at least in my experience – support the fees.

Abolishing tuition fees is also a flagship Jeremy Corbyn policy, which makes the idea look more ridiculous still. The hard Brexit he supports makes the implementation of free higher education, and of all the other targeted giveaways he proposes look, well, academic. And I see why people ask how socialist it really is to give more subsidies to the middle classes while leaving swathes of austerity welfare cuts largely untouched.

And yet I still have doubts about tuition fees, and find the arguments for them to be weak.

For example, the Daily Express described Corbyn’s HE policy (pre this year’s GE) as ‘a key bribe being used by the current Labour leadership to younger voters’. Bribe? Excuse me, but what did the Express think British politics is? Most party policy represents the offer of economic or financial support to various interest groups, in the hope of gaining power. Former education minister Alan Johnson complained that the idea would involve ‘cross-subsidising mainly middle class students’. The middle classes are already subsidised with tax credits, child benefit, flexible working, parental leave and pension credit – but apparently, paying for college is where the line has to be drawn.

Then there is the argument that working class people shouldn’t have to pay for an education from which working class people don’t personally benefit… unless, of course, they ever undergo a clinical procedure, fly on an aircraft, lose themselves in a great novel or history book, or utilise any of the other services and innovations produced by graduates. And taxation always involves paying for something you don’t use. I don’t drive, but I don’t complain that my tax contributions go towards funding publically maintained roads.

And then we come to the ‘crazy students’ story. Barely a week goes by without a headline reporting some ludicrous boycott, no-platform or protest initiated by students. The national security professor Tom Nichols devotes a whole chapter in his marvellous polemic The Death of Expertise to the broken US college education system, and the colossal sense of entitlement displayed by many student protestors. He writes:

At Yale in 2015, for example, a house master’s wife had the temerity to tell minority students to ignore Halloween costumes they thought offensive. This provoked a campuswide temper tantrum that included professors being shouted down by screaming students. ‘In your position as master,’ one student howled in a professor’s face, ‘it is your job to create a place of comfort and home for the students… Do you understand that?!’

Quietly, the professor said, ‘No, I don’t agree with that,’ and the student unloaded on him:

‘Then why the [expletive] did you accept the position?! Who the [expletive] hired you?! You should step down! If that is what you think about being a master you should step down! It is not about creating an intellectual space! It is not! Do you understand that? It’s about creating a home here. You are not doing that!’ [emphasis Nichols’s]

This is a familiar subject. But Nichols’s conclusions are surprising. The ‘crazy students’ story is more prevalent in America because the system costs more at the point of delivery. Students have such entitlement because they have been encouraged to see themselves as customers – ‘children of the elite who may shout at faculty as if they’re berating clumsy maids in a colonial mansion.’

Conservatives have made a minor cottage industry from the backlash against crazy entitled student protestors but, at the end of the day, they just want clicks and RTs. Some leftists have even sillier ideas about HE. Millennials have become a pilot cohort for sociology’s wackier theories.

Take this piece by the Guardian’s Hugh Warwick. He advocates a year of ‘eco conscription’ prior to higher education. Young people would be sent back to the land for compulsory agricultural labour. ‘Now, conscription is a scary idea; associated with the great threats that come with war, so it is sure to antagonise. But I believe we need to start treating the multiple environmental crises as the serious threat they are,’ Warwick explains. ‘The benefits to our ‘home’ of having people working on the land, reconsecrating the sacrilege of our industry, are immense. Reweaving the connections, rebuilding the Linescape will forge links for wildlife and for people.’

This article is such a classic, I could quote from it all day (‘Yes, this is state coercion. But…’) Suffice to note the subtext – that students are a kind of claimant group, which should be mined for productive use. But students spend money, work regular jobs to cover their fees, even set up small businesses. There are provincial cities and market towns from London to Carlisle that would starve without the September-June influx.

Of course having a big student population does lead to obvious problems with loud noise, transient populations and knocked over wheelie bins. But there is no reason undergraduates and regular people cannot live together peacefully. I used to do a lot of voluntary work, and in that capacity I sat on a student impact panel in my own city, which got students and local residents together to find ways to coexist without problems. I remember an old woman praising the university system because (I can’t remember the exact words) ‘it’s remarkable that we live in a society that sets a little time aside for people just to think, and read, and find out who they really are.’ And I can think of no better rationale for higher education than that.

Summer Song

July 14, 2017

This story of mine is now out at the marvellous Ellipsis zine.

Everything Belongs to the Past

June 8, 2017

No one wears them; they’re empty. It’s an image of a shape with one entrance and two exits. One may imagine falling continually into the waistband, not knowing from which leg one may emerge. So does history occur: in myriad, often unconsidered, minor decisions.

‘The Trousers of Time’

– Terry Pratchett ‘L Space’ wiki

I remember the June 23 referendum as if it’s actually happening real now in real time. It’s been a long close race, but ultimately not close enough. About four in the am, just as the sunlight is beginning to break into the sky, a decision starts to emerge. Remain establishes a 52% majority and keeps it going well into the stirrings of the working day. Eventually, Dimbleby calls it. The votes are counted, the boxes emptied, the final hand is on the table. Britain has voted to remain in the European Union.

No one has slept, but the real work is only just begun. Cameron and Osborne, faces flushed with victory and relief, are all over the front pages. It has been Dave’s big gamble – and it’s paid off. Subtle but drastic realignments occur all over Westminster as career politicians scramble to adjust their philosophies in line with the triumphant Chipping Norton order. Businessmen all over the country check the result on their phones, shake their heads in relief, and drive to work. Radiographers and IT specialists and hop pickers and schoolteachers and retail workers and others who came from the continent and beyond to build lives here, decide to junk their visa applications, and wonder why they ever even considered leaving a country they love.

Perhaps the most surprising aspect is the response from the Leave campaign. UKIP disbands a day after the referendum. Even ultra liberal commenters praise Nigel Farage for his grace and good spirit. He tours the studios shaking hands with his opponents. ‘The result was not what I had hoped, but I respect the outcome of the democratic process,’ Farage tells reporters, trademark pint in hand. ‘Whether or not we are in the EU, we will always be British and nothing can change that. Let’s work together to build a great future.’

Farage takes the wind out of a defeated Leave campaign. Paul Nuttall leaves politics and embarks on the first manned mission to Mars – at least, that’s what he says later on his CV. Far away, in an office of the Kremlin, Vladimir Putin allows himself a drink of strong spirits while he reflects on a new plan. Boris resigns to spend more time with his mistresses.

See anything wrong with my little counterfactual there?

That’s right – the last paras.

If Remain had won, even if they had won big – I don’t believe that the leave crowd would have walked away and accepted the result. They would moan and complain and demonstrate. They would say the result was ‘rigged’ and the electorate was ‘brainwashed’. There would be court challenges and appeals to the Electoral Commission. We could even, right now, be in the middle of a second referendum campaign. Because for political fanatics, democracy is a one-armed bandit. You yank the lever until the thing pays out.

Ian McEwan confessed recently that ‘I don’t accept this near mystical, emotionally charged decision to leave the EU. I don’t, I can’t, believe it. I reject it.’ But he admits he is in a minority on this: ‘Our church, perhaps to its detriment, is not so broad. It is moody, tearful, complaining, sometimes cogently, even beautifully. In general, until now perhaps, it seems to have stoically accepted the process.’

As we know, Theresa May was once a Remainer but has committed herself to taking us out of the EU off the back of the referendum result. It looks like an honourable stance – whatever she fought for in the campaign, she accepts that ultimately she’s a servant of the people and must carry out the majority wish.

But it seems to me that this honourable stance has faded into what I call ‘let’s do it to say we’ve done it’. This is a form of bad practice in organisations that can also be called ‘box ticking’ or, more simply, ‘cover thine arse’. You know what I mean by this – you follow protocol or directive, and document your actions thoroughly, without necessarily thinking of what’s best for the project or the client. Then, if and when everything falls over, you can throw up your hands and say: ‘Don’t look at me. I did what was asked.’

There are many good arguments for Brexit – I recommend this gentle low-key and wise piece in particular, by the academic Martin Robb. Many smart Brexiters have close affinities with Europe, and they know we will always have a relationship with the continent, no matter the constitutional arrangements of the day. (They are perhaps less wise in their enthusiasm for local representative structures above all else. How’s your local democracy doing these days? Bins collected recently?…) So I never believed that Remain had a monopoly on virtue or intelligence in this debate.

Fact is, though, any pro Brexit argument has to answer two big questions: how is this thing going to work, exactly, and can we trust this government to achieve it?

So far, the May approach looks like ‘do it to say we’ve done it’ on a constitutional scale. The government triggered A50 early and made Brexit the centre of their programme. Tony Blair spoke in almost DeLillo-style prose when he said ‘this Government has bandwidth only for one thing: Brexit. It is the waking thought, the daily grind, the meditation before sleep and the stuff of its dreams; or nightmares.’ And yet detail is lacking. We will have SME, and less immigration, but we don’t know exactly how. This government is doing a very radical thing, in a very mediocre way. Think the English Reformation, but project managed by the guys who used to run the godforsaken call centre you temped in after college. The American Revolution led by Mr Bean.

This is where acceptance can be a sleepwalk off the cliff’s edge. People have a habit of falling back on the position that things are going to happen because they have to happen. And indeed this post could well appear like the half-assed fantasies of an ivory tower liberal globalist. Maybe, but I should say that when I got interested in politics I was passionately anti globalisation. When I’d argue with friends about Thatcherism’s legacy, I’d get the rejoinder: Look, it had to happen, the world was changing, any government would have found it necessary to do what Thatcher did.

Again, maybe. But I am still not sure that it had to be done in the thoughtless aggressive way that Thatcher’s government did it – the onslaught upon the cities and valleys and towns, the devastation of entire communities. Like I say, I think Brexit could work for us. But I am not at all sure that Brexit will work if it’s the kind of Brexit that this government is aggressively and thoughtlessly pursuing.

Ian Dunt is the best writer on the Brexit age and provides the detail politicians won’t tell you. Here he reflects on the possible future if we crash out of Europe without a deal:

The early effects can already be seen. A year ago we were outperforming Germany, the US and Japan. Now we have slumped to the bottom of the G7 list of advanced economies. The pound fell in value after Brexit and that has translated, due to increased import prices, into inflation. This is denting consumer demand – the main driver of UK growth. Wages are no longer keeping up with inflation. The Bank of England has warned that living standards will continue to fall […]

Producers in Europe are coming to hard conclusions about the UK’s direction. Many goods must pass over borders in their manufacturing process. If there is a tariff and various bureaucratic requirements when they do so, they would be better off based inside the customs union. Almost half of European businesses have already started looking to replace British suppliers with competitors from inside the EU.

Meanwhile, British businesses are being given no certainty whatsoever. Every time May says that ‘no deal is better than a bad deal’, they are again being driven closer to having to make snap investment decisions in a state of regulatory uncertainty. None of this is necessary, even under Brexit. If guarantees were offered they would not be in this situation. Instead, May continues to play Russian Roulette with the nation’s future.

It is a truism that there are communities all over the UK that have not yet recovered from what happened in the 1980s. I have to smile when I hear fanzine leftists frame hard Brexit as a rebellion against neoliberal elites. What do they think will happen to working class communities after hard Brexit has finished with them?

For neoliberalism has an evil bigger brother: isolationism. It will rip through the fabric of our society like neoliberalism on rocket pills.

As Dunt also writes, you won’t hear this from the major parties. I want to be positive and in many circumstances I am also happy to be a liberal globalist, so I want to end by saying something positive about that magical half-known thing, civil society. I feel good every time I get into a decent argument or laugh out loud at social media or turn on the news to see a carnival demonstration. Civil society is not everything, it may not even exist outside liberal enclaves, but it is something.

And I remember Christopher Hitchens, who once said: ‘if the fools in the audience strike up one cry, in favour of surrender or defeat, feel free to join in the conversation.’