Proroguing Parliament: how “cavalier disregard” endangers democracy

The words have nothing to do with each other, of course. To prorogue is to ask for a deferment (pro + rogare). It has nothing to do with roguery. At least, not etymologically.

And yet Boris Johnson’s decision to prorogue Parliament feels to many of us to be the action of a rogue. At a stroke it delivers all power to the executive, unchallenged by Parliament. Select committees cannot meet, so ministers are not held to account anywhere for their actions. At a time of national crisis, the elected members who represent us in Parliament are rendered voiceless. All formal debate is stifled at a blow. To silence Parliament at such a time like this is nothing short of a shocking undermining of democracy. 

I’m not going to rehearse the arguments here. I’m not a constitutional historian or an expert on parliamentary process. It may well turn out that to prorogue Parliament is perfectly legal. That is for the lawyers now to determine under judicial review. No doubt The Queen was advised that she could safely accede to the Prime Minister’s request, indeed, that she had no alternative.

But legality is not the real point here. It’s whether the decision to prorogue is ethical, judicious and wise. And whether it’s free of the charge of duplicity, given that a Queen’s Speech does not require proroguing for more than a few days. Members of Mr Johnson’s cabinet are on record as having said during the Conservative leadership contest that they could not support suspending Parliament in order to achieve Brexit by 31 October. No one believes (whatever some may say) that curtailing the Brexit debate in Parliament does not lie at the heart of this otherwise needless decision. 

I don’t think the British public will be fooled by it, at least not for long. Elected members from all opposition parties, always jealous for their parliamentary privileges, are outraged. A growing chorus of voices in the Conservative party itself is expressing alarm and dissent. Others are keeping silent, perhaps embarrassed by a decision that leaves them deeply conflicted. 

My own MP here in Hexham constituency, Guy Opperman, is perhaps one of these. He voted Remain in the referendum, and represents a constituency that also voted Remain by a small majority. But about proroguing Parliament, his Twitter feed has said nothing so far. So I challenged him in a tweet this morning. I asked: “Does @GuyOpperman believe that: 1 it’s the right thing to do because it will deliver #Brexit, ‘do or die’? 2 It’s the wrong thing to do because it subverts parliamentary sovereignty? Or 3 it’s a regrettable act, but necessary to concentrate minds?” 

Perhaps Mr Opperman’s media advisers are telling him to say nothing. Maybe personal integrity and party loyalty pull in opposite directions. No loyal MP goes off-message without considerable provocation. But possibly his silence is conveying precisely the message that his democratic one-nation principles are being placed under considerable strain by his leader’s actions. Who can say? I’m trying to put the best interpretation on his silence, but I’m conjecturing. I’ve written personally to him to express my dismay. I look forward to his reply. He is more than welcome to comment on this blog too. This is not a time to keep quiet about these deeply troubling developments. Elected members are there to engage. Interrogating their words and actions is part of what it means to be a citizen.

Our parliamentary system is the cornerstone of the nation’s governance. It’s why so much was made of the sovereignty of Parliament during the referendum campaign. I did not think that the Brexiters’ rallying cry “take back control!” would mean an assault by the executive on Parliament itself. This should be a matter of the utmost concern to all parliamentarians in both Houses, and to those for whom they speak, either as their directly elected representatives or as those charged with the scrutiny of legislation that affects the people of this nation.

Which brings me to offer one final observation. I think that the prorogation of Parliament puts the Church of England bishops in the House of Lords in a particularly difficult position. They sit in Parliament to share in the guardianship of the nation’s spiritual, moral and political health. They are therefore as much the champions of our democratic freedoms as everyone else in the two Houses. As the spokesmen and women of the Established Church of England, are they not bound to deplore this erosion of parliamentary democracy at a time of crisis in the strongest possible terms? Will they not be compelled to protest against prorogation out of their concern for the wellbeing of the people towards whom they have a duty of care?

A number of bishops published an open letter earlier this week about the consequences of a No Deal Brexit. It was a good piece of writing that deserves careful study. It’s unfortunate that it was overshadowed by the simultaneous announcement of the prorogation of Parliament. But uncannily, a paragraph of their text spoke directly into the big news that was breaking that day. They said: “The sovereignty of Parliament is not just an empty term. It is based on institutions to be honoured and respected: our democracy is endangered by cavalier disregard for these.”

The bishops could hardly have known how prescient these words would turn out to be. Honour and respect are precisely what are lacking in the Prime Minister’s cynical decision to suspend parliamentary process. Cavalier disregard is precisely how to describe this act of chicanery. 

I’m delighted that the bishops have found their voice after so long (though I’m wondering why not all the Diocesan bishops signed the letter). My question now is, how are they going to make sure that the questions they pose in their letter, especially in the paragraph I’ve quoted, are heard by those who need to pay attention? It seems to me that the bishops have no option but to speak further about honouring and respecting our democratic institutions, and to point out in no uncertain terms how we will not, as a church and as a nation, tolerate cavalier disregard for them. 

The question, as I’ve said, is not whether prorogation is against the letter of the law. Rather, it’s that it is utterly opposed to the spirit of the hard-won legislation that guarantees democracy in our country. We urge the bishops, along with their fellow peers and elected members, not to concede this fundamental point. As good parliamentarians, the bishops must bear witness in the House of Lords. And they must do this at the earliest possible opportunity. 

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Update at 1758 today, 30 August: Guy Opperman MP has now blogged about this. 

The Benefits of Brexit

Yes, you read that correctly. I want to write about the benefits of Brexit. It may be news to you that there could be any. Or at least, that I might imagine so. Am I losing my head?

I don't think so. For the avoidance of doubt, I've not changed my mind about Brexit. I believe it to be a disastrous decision for the United Kingdom. If you've been following this blog, you'll know that I've rehearsed the arguments ad nauseam. To me, it makes no sense either economically or politically. It cuts across the idea that I imagined was becoming mainstream opinion, that we are better off together than alone, that a world in which we collaborate to tackle the threats we face is more likely to be one in which we all live more safely and at peace with one another, care more effectively for the poor and vulnerable, share our resources in combating the climate emergency, and have more likelihood of flourishing. Pooling our sovereignty gives us leverage to achieve what is beyond the reach of any of our peoples separately. To me as a Christian, this comes down to loving our neighbour as ourselves. The best future for our world is based on relationships and community, not on isolation and self-interest.

I've not changed my mind about any of this. If anything, I believe in these (to me) self-evident benefits of EU membership more strongly than I ever did, the more I listen to the spurious arguments against them.

It's these very arguments, in fact, that lead me to think that Brexit could bring benefits after all. I have two in mind. The lesser benefit would be for the UK finally to rid the EU of the burden we have become to it. When you are a thorn in someone else's side, the kindest thing to do is to remove yourself from a relationship that is giving the other party so much grief. We don't deserve the longsuffering patience our European friends have shown to us British since 2015. And they don't need, and never needed, our foot-dragging, curmudgeonly, resentful attitude towards them as the EEC and then the EU, our reluctance ever to become fully-fledged Europeans who pull our weight in this family of nations.

The greater benefit would be that Brexit, hard or soft, would provide a response to David Cameron's endlessly repeated mantra before the referendum campaign, when he tried to renegotiate the UK's EU membership. "What's in it for Britain?" he kept asking, "What's in it for us?"

Here's my answer. What Brexit would (will?) achieve is quite simply to make it clear beyond any doubt that the UK has now become a very ordinary, very average, unexceptional middleweight nation. It no longer has a special role in the world, or at least a role that's any more special than any other nation. It has lost any credible claim to exceptionalism. It is one nation among many, better than some, not as good as others, a middling kind of power in global politics and economic strength that can expect to be overtaken in terms of influence, wealth and political clout by a dozen other nations in the next few decades.

Why would this be a benefit to Britain?

Simply because it would require us to pursue a more modest way of being in the world. From being a significant world power with enormous moral influence and reach across the globe, and with a strong sense of a unique British destiny, we would have to become used to a less exalted, more humble role such as we have not been had since at least the eighteenth century. We would have to learn to know our place.

All this would pose something of a spiritual and moral crisis for the United Kingdom. For if we were to learn true humility, it would require us as a nation to become a great deal more self-aware, more spiritually and emotionally intelligent, than we have been during this decade. It has been a national embarrassment to watch ourselves behaving as if we were suffering from some kind of corporate psychotic episode, a collective nervous breakdown. It's been instructive, if cruel, to read the commentary on Brexit in the overseas media, and see ourselves as others see us. We have become a source of bafflement even to our allies, and of scornful ridicule to our enemies. Brexit has already demonstrated its capacity to humble us in the sight of others. And this can only increase as the clock ticks down towards Hallowe'en and, as seems increasingly likely, we crash out of the European Unon without a deal.

The biblical and classical stories of what we tend to call a "fall" are essentially about how peoples, nations and individuals have to face the truth about themselves as a result of some tragic flaw or misplaced hubris, when grasp exceeds reach and we are toppled from some place of privilege or pride. This seems to me to be the crisis we are reaching in Britain. A crisis is literally a "judgment", and implicit in the idea of "fall" is that of nemesis, just deserts that are reaped not as a result of some external intervention but because of what we do to ourselves through our own presumption, how decisions and their consequences draw out of ourselves a hitherto unguessed potential for self-harm if not self-destruction.

In the case of Brexit, I think we can ascribe a good deal of this to the naked self-interest (not to say self-importance) that has dominated the EU debate for years. Instead of asking how our membership could benefit other members of the Union, all that has seemed to matter to us has been our own profit. And as the gospel says, if we strive to gain the whole world, we put at risk our own soul. This, I fear, is the condition Britain is reaching, may already have reached. Brexit has driven us to the brink of spiritual, ethical and moral bankruptcy. Appeals to collaborate for the sake of social justice, peace-making, security, the environment and the welfare of the most needy members of our society fall on increasingly deaf ears. The clamour is "do or die", Brexit at all costs, deal or no deal. If ever a nation was suffering a nervous breakdown that clouded judgment and common sense, this is it.

Which is why I'm reluctantly coming to the view that Brexit may actually be necessary if we are to come to our senses and be healed of this craziness. Could it be that to learn to see ourselves as a rather ordinary offshore island could be good for the national psyche? Could it be that this fall from perceived privilege could give us back our soul?  Could it be that the sheer shock of Brexit teaches us lessons we are incapable of learning in any other way. that it could bring us to our senses? I'm thinking of the prodigal son who lost everything in his far country, and only then began to find himself again and make the long journey home.

"He that is down need fear no fall; he that is low no pride" wrote John Bunyan in Pilgrim's Progress. I wonder what this quintessentially English writer would say to the Britain of the twenty-first century. I think he would tell us that humility is the first lesson we need to learn if we are to become truly wise and, in any sense that ultimately matters, truly great in our moral stature and spiritual character. St Benedict, patron saint of Europe, says the same which is why he devotes so much space to humility in his Rule. It's a principle we have forgotten in the shrill politics of our time. If "righteousness exalts a nation", then humility is the first step to it.

I'm resigned to Brexit now. I shall continue to resist it by any means possible, especially in its no-deal incarnation. But in my waters, I don't believe it can be avoided. I won't deny that I feel unutterably despondent about the prospect of waking up on All Saints Day no longer a citizen of the European Union. But something in me says that this could be a profoundly important moment in the history of our nation. If, after 1 November, we begin to experience buyer's remorse and ask ourselves, as I think we are likely to, "how on earth could we have committed such a foolish act?", it could lead to a new seriousness in public life that restored truth-seeking to the place it ought to have occupied all along. It could be a kind of conversio.

If that in turn helped foster a more realistic self-understanding on the part of the nation, a more sober perception of our place in the world, an altogether more humble view of ourselves and our destiny, that would have to be a good thing, wouldn't it? And if we were to find ourselves more free of our historic ambitions for power, hegemony, growth, influence and wealth, it might just bring about our capacity to become the best selves we have it within us to be. It would put us back on the path of healing and reconciliation after years of bitter division, help us be at ease with ourselves once again. That would be a vocation worth pursuing. We might well be a sadder nation, but I think we would be a better and a wiser one.

The hectoring, relentlessly upbeat Brexit rhetoric of Boris Johnson and his government doesn't encourage me to think that this will happen very soon. But in the longer term, under a leadership that is less in thrall to romantic notions of past greatness, and more realistic in scanning horizons and responding intelligently to events, change might be possible. And then we shall need to apologise - to our European neighbours whose friendship and trust we have abused, and to the people of Scotland and Ireland in particular who will find it hard to forgive the English for the forces of disintegration that we have unleashed. Indeed, saying sorry and meaning it is always important evidence that we have learned from our mistakes and can begin to tell the truth about ourselves once more.

Which is what humility, recognising our ordinariness and knowing our place are all about.

Brexit and the Church of England: a correspondence

I received this email yesterday. My reply to it is below. I have anonymised it and publish it here because I hope it echoes a wider concern about the failure of the Church of England to engage at an institutional level with Brexit. This was always regrettable, but is especially so now that a No Deal Brexit is a real threat facing this nation. My reply says nothing that I haven't rehearsed on this blog many times before. And I do recognise that Church leaders have been active behind the scenes in debates and discussions about our future in relation to Europe, not least in a recent symposium held at Lambeth Palace. 

However, when it comes to speaking in the "public square", entering the political fray, reframing the debate so that it is not dominated by self-interest, and not least, helping to shape at least the questions its own membership ought to be asking, I'm afraid I find a lot that falls short of a truly prophetic and wise contribution to this crisis that will go on dominating our lives for many years to come. 


Dear Michael, N and P

Forgive my temerity in writing to you all. 

I am quietly going mad on the subject of Brexit and noticing how few prophetic Christian theological voices are being raised against the forthcoming national disaster. 

All my political education is now coming from Twitter but sadly there is virtually no overlap between my political life and my church life. 

You three are the only senior people I’ve read speaking out strongly positively with a pro-EU vision and warning of the dangerous territory we are entering.

So I thought I’d write to you all and ask if you know if there is any big hitting “Christians Against Brexit” type of grouping that I haven’t yet found. 

And if there isn’t, to ask if you would consider starting one. 

And if you do, please count me in as first follower. 

I’m a newbie activist and currently limited to Twitter and supporting crowdfunding of the major legal cases. Would be willing to put a few personal ££ behind setting up a wee website as a repository of good writing worth sharing, and linking to all the other Remain campaigns. 

I don’t even know why I’m writing this because the day job is already way too big, but just feel I can’t stand by and do nothing. 

Best wishes – and thanks for your voices. 

S

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Dear S,

Thank you for writing. As you know I share your concerns entirely. 

However, I’m at a loss to know how to reply with any ideas. As you know I’ve blogged regularly about Brexit (http://northernwoolgatherer.blogspot.com) and what I perceive as the failure of the Church of England to engage with it at a public, institutional level (which is different from individuals including the Bishops of Europe and Leeds among others who have regularly spoken personally about it). 

My argument has been that as Brexit profoundly affects national identity, both of the UK as a whole and of the four nations that comprise it, it is properlye the concern of the two national churches of the UK. The Church of Scotland has consistently spoken up for our EU membership, while recognising that there is room for debate and dissent because not all its members will see things that way. But the Church of England has not done so, despite the fact that Brexit is predominantly an English phenomenon. It has observed a studied neutrality and our Archbishops have taken the line (which is deeply questionable in my view) that because the referendum delivered a Leave result in 2016, we are bound to respect that vote and should not question it. There was no General Synod debate when it might have made a difference before the referendum. I was assured there would be a debate in the House of Bishops at that time, but I don’t believe this ever happened. How could these opportunities have been passed by as if Brexit were a thing indifferent, and not the proper business of the national church in England to discuss?

I can’t deny how deeply disappointed I am in the church I’ve served as an ordained minister all my adult life. I believe it has behaved in a cowardly way during the greatest crisis to face England and the UK since the last war. It’s not too much to say that I’m ashamed of its performance and am afraid that history will demonstrate that the national church stood back when it ought to have been engaged in a critical national debate. I think it has forfeited its role as an established church, though that’s perhaps a different matter from the one you’re raising in your email.

I convened an online forum called “Christians for Europe” which was (in a non-overt way) hosted by the LibDems and had a presence on FaceBook and Twitter as well as a website. It was active during the referendum campaign and can still be found online, though I discontinued actively tweeting a few months after the referendum. I’m not inclined to reactivate it unless there is clear institutional support from the Church of England - which there won’t be.

I know that there are a great many Anglicans in England who are profoundly worried about the nation’s future. This includes, I believe, the great majority of its leaders, particularly the bishops. It’s for them to speak up now. A superannuated jobbing priest like me has a much diminished influence. I’ll continue to be a campaigner against Brexit, especially in any No Deal form. I am a European through and through. But I am not hopeful it can be averted. And I’m ashamed that our church has not done more to point to the threats that face us and, at the very least, try to reset the terms of the debate not as a matter of self-interest and economic prosperity only, but of loving our neighbour and building global communities of peace, friendship, reconciliation and justice for the world’s voiceless and poor. 

Sorry I can’t be more positive! 
Best wishes
Michael

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And here is another response received on 12 August.

I can only echo what you have written. I too feel pretty helpless. After my letter in the Church Times (which I shared with all my contacts) the Guardian published another, saying much the same in a different way. The latter was largely talking to the converted. It should probably have been in the Mail or Telegraph. All this has led to a lot of follow up. I've had some moving, even heart-rending responses. I have totally kept clear of social media... and that has left me some space to think and write.... A very few bishops are doing their best. but only corporate action could have done some good. In response to the CT letter Justin [Welby] said it was no use shouting at poiticians. I replied that what I hoped for was  leadership, signs of the kingdom, for his 'little flock'. I'm afraid my former NSM curate writing to me was right when he said 'most of the bishops know the score but are afraid of the dwindling number of churchgoers who voted leave'. The same lot mutatis mutandis who in 1933 thought Hitler was a godsend. It is small comfort to know we are nowhere near alone.and probably even a majority. At Peterloo the state sent in the cavalry. The mood now seems to be 'keep calm and drink strong tea'. If not even our genocidal submarines will bring Christian people on to the streets, this near coup d'etat will not either. Optimistic?  No. Hope, however, is on another plane.

P

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And another....

The more important issue now is to imagine and envisage some vision for a post-Brexit UK. I have not hidden my views about Brexit, but we still have to offer hope for beyond an outcome we don’t want and even think will be seriously damaging. We also have to be hard-nosed about some of this: speaking out is not always good leadership – especially if it is an exercise in salving our own conscience by having ‘done something’. Our primary task now is to keep asking the questions, making the case and holding the government to account, but the reality is that Cummings/Johnson populist communication is likely to be more effective and emotive than rational recourse to reality or facts – something I think is appalling, but I also think is real. Doing this at local level is as – or more – important than at national level.

I think it generally unwise and inappropriate to compare Brexit to Germany in the 1920s and ‘30s (despite some apparent populist parallels), but, if such comparisons are at all useful, then the need for people to look beyond the immediate and have some vision for the future (in exile?) is essential. It seems to me that this is the prophetic calling, too.

N

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And here is a further comment from the person who originally wrote to me and to others.

Really appreciate you taking the trouble to respond – it’s tough stuff and given me lots of food for thought. I was reaching out feeling particularly Gloomy and Despondent on the subject and this conversation has encouraged and disheartened me in approximately equal measure. I think my own path has to be to continue to campaigning at least to block no deal, and although revoke/referendum hopes are now vanishingly slim I do want to feel I’ve tried even if I have to accept the charge of a degree of self-indulgence in that. And if we fail then I’m glad people like N are doing the thinking ahead. And maybe the case does just have to be made politically now and theology is not relevant. No, it must be there between the cracks so I guess I keep looking. I do feel sad that there isn’t a consolidated Christian voice regardless of whether that’s the established church or an informal grouping. Will keep reading your respective blogs/articles for inspiration and maybe it even challenges me to be more serious in trying privately to articulate this theologically for myself too…

S