Why I'll be Voting LibDem

We need to keep a clear head about this election, and remember why it's been called. There's one reason only: the last Parliament's impasse over Brexit. Like Theresa May before him, Boris Johnson just could not "get Brexit done". The election was his response to that predicament.

Since it was called, the conversation has spiralled out from Brexit. In an election campaign, political parties all set out their stalls. Voters are fair game. Spend, spend, spend is the order of the day. Understandable at this time of year: Black Friday beckons. Whose wares sparkle the brightest, are wrapped the prettiest, seduce us into thinking that they offer what we most want or need?

I want to remind us that Brexit is the reason for this election, and it's Brexit that should be the focus of the debate. That's not to say that the climate emergency, international trade, the economy, health, education, security, transport infrastructure, devolution and much else aren't crucially important to the flourishing of our country. But when we examine those themes and how we want to address them in the immediate future (the next five years), they all converge on the decision this nation must make in the next few weeks or months about its relationship with the European Union. It's not that the short-term urgent must displace the long-term important. But what we do about Brexit will profoundly influence the direction our country takes in the coming decades, and how we engage with all the other crucial priorities we face.

Here in England, only the Greens and the Liberal Democrats are unambiguously campaigning on a pro-EU ticket. The Conservatives want to "get Brexit done". Labour promises a People's Vote on a renegotiated Brexit deal, but Jeremy Corbyn won't himself campaign for Remain or Brexit. We know where the Brexit Party stands. I find much that is highly attractive in the Greens' programme and won't deny that it's tempting to support them. But I've concluded that the Libdems stand the best chance of providing a realistic challenge to the two main parties and adding substantially to the elected members holding the balance of power should we elect another hung Parliament (which may be the best outcome we can hope for in these unpredictable times).

For the avoidance of doubt, I should confess at this point that I'm a paid-up member of the Liberal Democrat Party, and have been since I retired. If you want to, dismiss everything else I write on the grounds that I would say that, wouldn't I? But let me press on and hope you may come with me.

Jo Swinson has had a mixed press since she announced that the heart of the Libdem Manifesto would be a commitment to revoke Brexit. The Sheffield audience at the Leaders' Question Time broadcast was surprisingly hostile - where were Nick Clegg's former supporters from the Sheffield Hallam constituency where we once lived? She is not quite fully formed as a leader. She needs to inhabit the role, discover how to nuance conviction with a realistic assessment of what's achievable and where compromise will be needed. She would do well to cultivate subtlety. And maybe not knock the Labour Party quite so brutally. Politics is the art of the possible. This takes time - a luxury you don't have when you're plunged into the maelstrom of an election campaign. But Jo is bright, energetic, fluent, and completely committed. Despite the reviews, I think she and Nicola Sturgeon can be pleased to have given as good as they got in that unforgiving bear pit of the #BBCQT arena.

********

So what about the Liberal Democrat manifesto commitment to "stop Brexit"?

It's been much criticised as going back on the outcome of the 2016 referendum. "How dare you ride roughshod over a democratic decision we made!" "Why can't you get over the fact that you lost!" "How can you be so arrogant as to pretend to know better than the nation as a whole!" We've heard a lot of talk like that. And yes, the Libdem stance could look more than a little cavalier if presented too clumsily. A lot of this is the cut and thrust of electioneering. But underneath it is, I think, a misunderstanding about the intellectual basis of this "stop Brexit" pledge. So it's worth examining this if we are to give Jo Swinson a fair hearing.

There are two objections to it. The first is that as a matter of politics, it's theoretically flawed; the second that as a matter of tactics, it's ill-judged and unlikely to win support. In terms of the audience, I'm not thinking of conviction Brexiters but of people who voted Remain in 2016 and who would be expected to be sympathetic to the Libdems. Clearly, plenty of them believe that the referendum result should be honoured, even if they don't like it. And some have argued that the Libdem platform should have been: vote for us and we'll push for a People's Vote and campaign to Remain in the EU. To them, the absolutism of the "stop Brexit" rhetoric is not calculated to gain friends and allies, and to win over waverers.

First, the theoretical objection. The logic of "stop Brexit" is in fact clearly set out in the manifesto. The election of a Liberal Democrat majority government on a clear stop Brexit platform will provide a democratic mandate to stop this mess, revoke Article 50 and stay in the EU. In other words, if (yes, I know - a big "if") the Libdems were elected, that would be the evidence ipso facto that stopping Brexit was what the nation wanted, for it would have elected the party that had promised to deliver precisely that outcome. That argument is unassailable. Just as it would be if we voted in a Labour government whose manifesto commitment was to nationalise the railways. The executive would go on to do just that because the election had provided the necessary mandate. I applaud a party that's prepared to be unambiguous about its core message. I'm glad to be able to vote for it on the basis of my ex animo belief that any Brexit will disadvantage our nation compared to the benefits we currently enjoy as EU members, and a no-deal Brexit would be nothing short of a catastrophe.

As to the tactical objection, the manifesto addresses that too. In other circumstances, we will continue to fight for a people's vote with the option to stay in the EU, and in that vote we would passionately campaign to keep the UK in the EU. These "other circumstances" are those in which the Libdems don't gain an overall majority. Yes, we know that's going to be the outcome, even if we can expect to see Remainers swing behind the Libdems just as they did in the recent European Parliament and local elections. But political parties always campaign on the basis of the vision that drives their ideals and values. This is what we want to hear and get a feel for: what do you really stand for? It's true, as someone said (was it Abraham Lincoln?) that parties campaign in poetry but have to govern in prose - but poetry is important in the task of winning hearts and minds. I won't say that there aren't risks in the Libdem strategy of going for broke over Brexit. But the sheer chutzpah of championing a single clear message may prove to reap an unexpected harvest.

********

I live in a constituency that voted to Remain in the EU. The Libdem constituency party thinks there's a good chance of doing well here. But while I understand the reasons for voting tactically, I find I can’t swallow my principles and vote for a party I don’t believe in.  Our former MP is a Tory who voted Remain, but now believes we must "deliver on the result of the referendum" and has studiously supported the Government in its attempts to do that under both Theresa May and Boris Johnson. It’s high time to challenge that thinking. I too want to "get Brexit done" - consign it to history through the democratic process of a general election, restore the status quo, focus once more on the challenges that face our nation, and, secure in our partnership with the other nations of the EU, respond to the immense global crises that confront the human race and so help create a better future for our world.

I've regularly rehearsed the arguments for EU membership in this blog since before the referendum. Just scroll down and have a look. In this, as in everything else, we are "better together". This election is all about Brexit. Let's talk about it!

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. 

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

Blue Danube to Black Sea Day 14: National Pride and Ambiguous Memory

Friday 7 June
I’m glad of the late flight that gives us this additional day in Budapest. Well, Pest actually. We begin by walking upstream along the promenade. We come to the “shoes” in memory of the Jews who were hurled into the icy Danube in 1944. It hardly needs saying how moving this sight is: boots, shoes, slippers, what looks like a little girl’s dancing shoes. Votive lights with Hebrew texts have been placed among, and even inside, these infinitely forlorn objects, so full of pathos, that speak more eloquently than words ever could about “the heartbreak at the heart of things”. And when I remember that the South Koreans drowned in a Danube within sight of this shrine, it simply adds to the painfulness of this part of the river bank.

As we walk on, the immense Parliament building looms up above us. We go inside the visitor centre and find that there is a place available on an English language tour of the building this afternoon. So I’ll come back to that later. The sun has come out and it’s warming up rapidly. We walk out of the shadow side of the Parliament (nice turn of phrase?) and into the sunshine. The glare from this extraordinary building is almost painful. Soldiers are on guard. The anti-terror barricades are not the crude lumpish blocks you see in London but integrated into the architecture of the square, which is surrounded by fine buildings. Indeed, everywhere in central Budapest the buildings are on a monumental scale. The green spaces are a relief from this surfeit of grandeur whether its imperial, neo-classical, art nouveau or modern. It’s tempting to compare it with Paris (again) but the difference is that Pest has no Notre Dame and no Left Bank to set off the monumental with something more intimate in scale. Buda has those things of course, but once these were separate cities and their respective urban styles architecture seem to tell different stories. Like Newcastle and Gateshead, maybe?

We go inside the Basilica of St Stephen’s. Aggressively neo-classical, vast and imposing, a noble Greek cross that on the outside fully rises to the challenge of the imperial architecture that surrounds it. But the interior feels gloomy and lifeless. Like St Sava in Belgrade, far from bringing me to my knees it leaves me cold. But it’s humanised by a group of young schoolchildren at the front of the nave who are singing their hearts out under the tutelage of their teacher.

But the gloom of the Basilica is more than made up for by our discovering the Church of the Assumption by the river. It’s Pest’s parish church and its oldest. The site is ancient: under glass in the floor we can see extensive remains of the Roman camp that once stood here on the bank of the Danube. There are remains of Romanesque and this provides the highlight of this rebuilt gothic church. Behind the high altar is all that’s left of some wall paintings. The crowning glory is a most beautiful depiction of the Assumption. It’s graceful and delicate, art that is full of love and devotion. But I’m even more moved by a painting to one side. It once showed Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane. Almost all of him is lost, except his hands held together in prayer, just like the famous Dürer drawing. And what’s best of all in this Romanesque Wall painting, surviving intact, is the image of God the Father, listening intently to his Son’s prayer as he hides behind a tree. The association must be to the Garden of Eden - how winsomely it’s done, and how rich theologically!

And so back to the Parliament Building for the guided tour. I won’t describe the architecture: the travel writers can indulge their superlatives and rhapsodise about this amazing edifice. Suffice to say that it’s a cross between the fairy-tale Chateau of Pierrefonds in northern France, and St Pancras Station with, of course, the obvious homage to the British Houses of Parliament (but this is in much better condition). National rhetoric and a (very very) proudly imagined past come into things at every turn - in the symbolism of the architecture, the sculptures of national heroes and the ordinary Volk - artists, craftspeople, scientists, philosophers, engineers. Gold leaf is on display in abundance.

But the clue to this place lies at its geometric centre. Here, underneath the dome (more Florence than Rome or St Paul’s), the crown regalia are kept in a sealed case of toughened glass. Round it is an innocent looking rope - but alarmed. That in turn is guarded by two military officers with guns. Touch the ropes, alarms will sound and the soldiers will as likely as not fire - that’s the message we are given. Oh, and photography, allowed everywhere else on the tour, is not permitted here, again on pain of - well, who knows? The regalia which go back to the eleventh century and Hungary’s king-Saint Stephen I are clearly treated as holy objects, the embodiment of the nation. Is this the real reason photography is forbidden, not any security risk so much as the violation of a sacred space that bears mystical significance?

I walk back via Freedom Square. On the far side is a memorial to the hundreds of thousands of Hungarians who perished in the Holocaust. Most were Jews, but we must never forget the Roma, the political dissidents and the gays who also ended their days in the extermination camps. This memorial shows the eagle of the Third Reich descending on Hungary brandishing a huge and evil claw bearing the year 1944 that’s about to lay hold on and devour the woman below, the personification of Hungary. On the ground is a classical pillar twisted out of shape. It’s powerful but it’s hard not to read this grotesque image as kitsch. There is an inscription in Hebrew and Hungarian, and a date - 19 March 1944. This was the day the German eagle landed on its former ally, its hanging black claw dragging Hungary viciously into the Reich that would last a thousand years. “That’s what the Nazis did to us.”

But that way of telling the story by blaming the Nazis has become extremely politicised. It seems that Viktor Orban had the memorial erected under cover of darkness and without consultation in order to establish once and for all where blame for the Hungarian holocaust belonged. But history does not bear this out. Hungary appeared to welcome the Nazi occupation with the same enthusiasm as Austria did. What’s more, Hungarians were not only complicit with their occupiers but initiated their own outrages against their fellow citizens including the Jews murdered in the river. (There was also a terrible massacre at Novi Sad, then under Hungarian rule. I don’t recall hearing anything about it when we were there.) So those protesting against this memorial, who include liberal politicians, civic leaders, academics and relatives of the victims, have brought memorabilia from 1944 and laid them out at the foot of the monument. They have also displayed images, photographs explanatory texts in all the world’s principal languages. They are challenging the Orban government to take responsibility for what happened in that terrible year and tell the truth about Hungarian involvement in it. This protest memorial has not been swept away - yet. If it were to be, there would be an outcry.

Of all that I’ve seen on this cruise, this memorial will, I think, stay with me longest. The image is meant to be unforgettable and it is - for all the wrong reasons. It encapsulates so many of the dilemmas of Central and Eastern Europe that we’ve been faced with on this journey: how nations tell their stories, how they face up to their past, how they define their identities in the present, what kind of futures they aspire to. To that extent, the rhetoric of the Parliament Building and of this memorial is the same. Am I right to be worried about the nationalism they both represent in this beautiful but paradoxical country? And can its Europeanism save it from all that’s corrupting in the emergence of the politics of the far right?

********

And if this is a question for Hungary, what about the other Danube lands from Germany and Austria in the west to Serbia and Croatia, Romania and Bulgaria in the east? And what about the UK? While we’ve been away the results of the European Parliament elections have shown how the postwar politics of our continent are being reframed in ways that couldn’t have been predicted when we were growing up and when the postwar political consensus seemed settled not only for our own lifetimes but those of our children too. Britain is as exposed to these changes as anywhere else in Europe. 

It’s tempting to see history as offering precedents. The rise of right wing populism across the world suggests parallels with the 1930s. I’ve wondered whether visiting Orban’s Budapest in the 2010s is like visiting Berlin in the 1930s - beautiful, seductive but full of portents. I’m sure this is far too facile. “The chief practical use of history is to deliver us from plausible historical analogies” said the Liberal politician James Bryce quoted in a recent article in the London Review of Books, “Populism and the People” by Jan-Werner Müller. Travelling around central and eastern Europe opens your eyes to the history of our continent but we should be wary of drawing parallels. That may be one of the most important things I’ve learned here. Good Europeanism must be earthed in a proper use of history, not an imagined past.

So if this voyage has taught me anything, it’s made me a better European, to quote the fellow-traveller who shared her thoughts with me as we were drawing into Novi Sad. What does “better” mean? Not so much that I’m more convinced than ever of the importance of the European Project, though I think that’s true. No, I mean that it’s revealed how little I knew my continent, how western my assumptions about had been, how much I need to learn about all those who share our common European home, whether the people next door or those who are further down the street.

And what’s true of the continent I call home is also true of the planet I call home. If travel doesn’t make us citizens of the world, why take ourselves off at some cost to cruise down a far-off river not our own? But it is our own. That’s the point. We are privileged to see what we have seen. It’s been hugely stimulating and enjoyable. But beyond the pleasures of a holiday, the companionship and conversation, stories to tell and memories to share, sightseeing, fresh air, relaxation and rest, what matters for travel, what is ultimately important, is how it changes us, and therefore what we do next. I suppose that's why I've been writing this blog of our voyage - not as a record of things seen and done, but as a way of woolgathering, thinking on the page about how and why it should make a difference.  

But for now it is time to get on the coach that will take us to the airport.

Brexit: The Prime Minister Speaks

So Mrs May has come back from Salzburg empty-handed.

Brexit-watchers can hardly be surprised. The Northern Ireland border was always going to be a tough challenge if the Good Friday Agreement was going to be honoured. As was finding a modus vivendi with the other 27 EU nations unless it was going to be on the basis of the Single Market and Customs Union. The impossibility of squaring the circle is the right metaphor. You can find as good a match as you want, and you can get closer and closer an infinite number of times. But you can never make the circumferences or areas exactly equal. It all comes down to π.

Salzburg is Mozart's birthplace. Its name literally means the Castle of Salt. Well, the EU leadership has certainly gone through the PM's Chequers proposals like a dose of salts. How she must have wished for some Mozartian Magic Flute to come to her rescue, confer wisdom, protect her against her foes, lead her into the right path! Instead, negotiations on these two critical points have reached an impasse. The EU is clearly in no mood to bend to her wishes. So she has no room to manoeuvre unless she compromises on both of them.  And as she keeps reminding us, there is no Plan B other than to crash out of the European Union with no deal.

The Prime Minister has just spoken to the nation. The robust tone was consistent throughout her short speech, the Leitmotif being "we cannot accept...". Some of her red lines will find ready agreement across the nation, such as "we cannot accept the break-up of the United Kingdom". Of course not. But as everyone can now see, this is a non-trivial risk for the Union, especially those who live and work in Northern Ireland. I don't suppose many people foresaw this when they voted Leave in 2016. Like the false prophets in Jeremiah, the cry was "peace, peace, where there is no peace". And the cavalier way some leading proponents of Brexit are ready to treat the Good Friday Agreement is both breathtaking, and desperately sad.

But what about her opening "we cannot accept"? She said today, "we cannot accept anything that does not respect the result of the referendum". This begs so many big questions, all of which have been fully rehearsed in the two years the nation has been debating the consequences of the vote. I don't want to plough in well-worn furrows. We were reminded ad nauseam by Brexiters that Parliament is sovereign, and this includes its powers to rescind what has been decided in the past - which is precisely why the referendum and Parliamentary endorsement of it was to reverse the decision first made by the nation in 1975 to confirm our membership of the EU (with the strong support of the Daily Mail - newspapers can change their minds too!).

Add to that the clear proviso that the referendum was advisory to Parliament, and it really won't do lamely to appeal to the referendum result as if it were set in stone like "the laws of the Medes and Persians that can never be revoked". This is immature politics that devalues the intelligence of voting people and infantilises them. In a democratic society, we are free to change our minds, and frequently do at general elections. As I've said, the second EU vote was itself a change of mind following the first.

There's one more issue here, and I recall writing about it in an earlier blog. We know that the majority of elected members in Parliament were for Remain. Not just by a margin of a few percent like the UK electors, but a really significant majority. The point is this. If these MPs believed in 2016 that it was in the interests of the UK to stay in the European Union, what changed with the referendum result? Remainer MPs should be principled enough not to sacrifice their convictions on the altar of a public vote, especially when it is as close as the result was two years ago. They are not delegates who must vote as instructed by their constituencies. They are independent representatives who, having regard for the views of their constituents, nevertheless are free to vote, and indeed must always vote, in accordance with what their conscience tells them is in the national interest, without fear or favour.

What has happened in Parliament that even our Prime Minister, who is undoubtedly a woman to whom principle and conscience are important, is enslaved to this theory that the referendum result is inviolable and sacrosanct? Yes of course, to act with integrity, to follow principle and your own conscience in the face of fierce and loud opposition does take courage. It is fatally easy to be compromised when the stakes are so high and the pressures very great. And who appreciates the demands that are placed upon political leaders in times like these? I'm not at all defending the PM's approach to Brexit when I say that we can all feel for her in these ordeals she faces, not only among her EU colleagues, but (especially, I think) the brutal EU-psychodramas that the Conservative Party has enjoyed acting out for so many decades now. "Bastards", John Major called the far-right Tories when it came to Maastricht. You get the point.

I'm not expecting the PM to read this. But if by chance she were to, here's what I'd want to say to her.

1. None of this fiasco was of your making. You were landed with this poisoned chalice by your predecessor. Having promised he would see the consequences of the referendum through, he promptly walked away from his duty. I wonder how he can sleep at night.

2. Most of us do not want Brexit to be a disaster for the nation. We want you to succeed in your negotiations, not just to get the best deal for Britain, but what is best for Europe too, in the spirit of friendship, understanding and peace-building that is why this EU family exists in the first place. We want to go on being friends, partners and allies of the EU27. To crash out would sour relationships that are immensely important not only to our immediate neighbours and ourselves, but geopolitically too.

3. Don't underestimate how big a loss the UK's leaving the EU will be to the twenty-seven. It's not just the four freedoms or our payments into its budget. It's about the real and deep partnerships that have been so carefully built up across areas such as security, science, culture, environmental care and medicine as well. EU leaders are not punishing Britain for leaving, but they are sad about it, and that helps to explain some of the tough rhetoric coming out of Brussels. The parting of friends is always painful, and we are seeing this being acted out as we watch.

4. Please don't make our nation the laughing-stock of Europe and the world. What happened at Salzburg was humiliating, not just for you personally but for all of us who love our country and count ourselves fortunate to be British. Negotiation is what grown-up people do when things get tough. Whatever comes of Brexit, it needs to be with our dignity intact. I'm very much afraid that we have lost stature in the world during these past two years. Maybe that's good for a nation, not to think of itself more highly than it ought to think. But if it's respect that we've forfeited, shouldn't that make us think carefully about the course we've embarked on? I hope so.

5. Please, please, consider it possible that you may be mistaken about a People's Vote. I am no enthusiast for referenda in a representative democracy, but once that genie is let out of the bottle, you can't put it back again. I think the cry for a third referendum (not the second - that's what 2016 was) will become unassailable in the coming months. Please, please, consider letting the nation, especially its young who were disenfranchised in 2016, speak once more, with the option of remaining in the EU on the same terms as we currently enjoy. After all, if Brexit is really what the UK wants, then Brexiters have nothing to fear from going round the tracks in the light of what we have all learned in the last two years. Minds change, not because people are fickle or wayward, but because circumstances change and new evidence emerges. Previously unknown information, newly assessed risks, clearer perceptions of what Brexit would actually mean, all this comes from the intensive scrutiny Brexit has been subjected to in the last 27 months. Such a triage is a good thing. I'm sure you welcome it. I believe you have the courage to ask the nation in a People's Vote what it now believes about its future in the light of what it now knows. Don't be afraid.

6. It may be small comfort, but I want to assure you that the prayers of people of all faiths are with you. And the thoughts of many more.

The Syria Air Strikes: why I am queasy

I'm queasy about last night's air strikes against Syria conducted by the USA, France and the UK. The more I think about it, and the more I read today's media comment, the more unsure I become about the legality and the moral rightness, let alone the wisdom, of this hastily conceived act.

Let's start with what it was for. "Mission accomplished!" tweeted President Trump this morning. But what exactly was the mission, and how can he be so sure that it's been accomplished? Everyone agrees that chemical warfare is horrendous and that no effort should be spared to eliminate chemical weapons. It seems beyond doubt that Syrian forces have used them against their own citizens more than once. The chorus of condemnation is unanimous, rightly.

But how have the air strikes dealt with this fact on the ground? If it can be evidenced that they have eliminated all possibility that Syria can go on manufacturing chemical weapons, I suppose that would amount to "mission accomplished" - in a sense. But previous strikes against Syria made similar claims that events subsequently proved wrong. And last night's raids can't rule out the possibility that Syria could obtain chemical weapons from elsewhere - North Korea, for example. So what difference have the air strikes actually made? Were they meant as a punishment? A warning? I wish I knew.

One thing is clear. The risks that were incurred last night were truly in the red zone, and it is too soon to say whether they have been mitigated. The possibility that raids on Syria could result in "collateral damage", that is, the death and injury of human beings, was high and we don't yet know for certain that this has been avoided. Had any of those people been Russians, then retaliation was almost certain. From there, events would escalate in a matter of days, even hours. A proxy war between major powers being waged in Syria could easily morph into a serious regional conflict. This is how world wars begin. We have to ask what kind of risk calculus informed last night's strikes.

In the light of all this, it is all the more puzzling that the Prime Minister did not bring her decision to collaborate in the air-strikes to Parliament. No doubt the memory of her predecessor's failure to secure parliamentary support for a similar action weighed heavily on her mind. Yet in her position, I would sleep more easily in my bed if I had gone to the place where I know my evidence would be carefully sifted and my argument rigorously tested. I would thereby both acknowledge the sovereignty of Parliament (always a good thing to do), and also gain reassurance (if the vote went my way) by having secured its ownership of what could easily turn out to be a life-or-death decision. Parliament reconvenes on Monday. It would not have been asking too much to delay action by a mere 48 hours.

No-one disputes that it is the responsibility of the executive to take decisions in emergencies. But I doubt whether this was one of them. (I'm not saying that what has happened in Syria is not truly dreadful. But sadly, a few days are not likely to make much difference in these intractable circumstances.)  Moreover, I think (but legal experts will need to clarify this) that the Royal Prerogative empowering the Prime Minister to act in an emergency is restricted to matters of the utmost gravity that pose a direct security threat to the United Kingdom. I doubt that this can be conceived that way. And when the executive appears to act prematurely when it would have been possible to take a longer, more considered view, I begin to worry that the powers that safeguard our democratic processes have been subverted. Because of this, I can't readily endorse last night's strikes against Syria as being "in my name". I'd be happy to be persuaded, but I am not persuaded yet.

There's another thing that concerns me, and that is the rhetoric that's being used about chemical weapons. I said at the outset that we all agree that chemical warfare is horrendous. But if we have learned anything from Syria in recent years, it is that the regime's deployment of conventional weapons against its own people is not less horrendous. The cruel and cynical way in which so many thousands of innocent people have been relentlessly killed and maimed in Syria through conventional attacks is one of the ugliest horror stories of our times.

To protest righteously against chemical weapons without also recognising the attrition caused by conventional weapons is morally dubious. It has the effect of normalising conventional warfare as somehow acceptable, or at least, less unacceptable, than chemical warfare. And when we consider that the UK is willingly exporting huge numbers of conventional weapons capable of causing immense injury and loss of life, we have to ask whether our own moral purity as a nation is beyond reproach. By the standards of nineteenth century weaponry, the hideously destructive armaments of our own day - land mines, fuel bombs and barrel bombs for example - are anything but conventional.

And even if we regard conventional weapons as a necessary evil, our own standpoint as a nation taking action against the use of chemical weapons is still morally questionable in the light of our own possession of nuclear arms with the implied threat of their actual use. As a nuclear power, the UK holds weapons that are no less questionable according to traditional moral values than the chemical and biological weapons we rightly condemn. I'm saying that the way we critique the weaponry of other nations needs to stand up to examination in the light of our own. As it is, I doubt whether our conscience as a nation can be entirely clear.

I am keenly aware of Edmund Burke's great dictum that evil happens when good men stand by and do nothing. I am not a pacifist and believe that nations are right to intervene strategically if there is a good prospect of a better outcome than there would have been if they had held back. I am old fashioned enough to believe that the concept of a just war still has validity. But the tragedy of Syria since the war erupted is precisely the consequence of western nations having done little or nothing to make a difference that would last. So it will not do for the USA, France and Britain to indulge in an episodic fit of moral outrage and decide in haste to take precipitate action that risks making the situation many times worse.

The UN Secretary General says chillingly that the cold war is back with a vengeance. I fear he is right. If so, the last thing that is needed is precipitate, reckless grandstanding with missiles. Instead, we need to take pause and consider the consequences of what we do. This, among other things, is what a proper parliamentary process would have provided. To see the end from the beginning is a central aspect not only of Realpolitik but of human wisdom. If ever our leaders needed that gift, it is now.

After the Act - 50 Years On

Today marks a big anniversary. On this day in 1967, homosexual activity between consenting male adults in private was no longer criminal. This Act of Parliament is rightly regarded as having made history. It marked a watershed of modern times.

My times, I can say, because I remember it well. If you were an adolescent of seventeen, this highly public debate about sex and sexuality couldn't fail to be of absorbing interest. I hadn't long come out as a Christian, and without understanding much of the theology (or much of human nature, for that matter), I remember being obscurely relieved that Michael Ramsey, the then Archbishop of Canterbury, supported decriminalisation.

As we all know, 1967 did not, to strike a Churchillian note, mark the end of a campaign, or even the beginning of the end. But perhaps it was the end of the beginning. Progress, especially in the last quarter of a century, has gained momentum. It has seen the equalisation of the age of consent, the inauguration of civil partnerships, the acceptance that gay couples should be eligible to foster and adopt children, and most recently, legislation to allow same-sex marriage. All the major political parties have strenuously supported equality legislation. Our understanding of homosexuality is vastly more sophisticated than it was fifty years ago. Gay culture has moved into the mainstream and enriched us all. These are all achievements to celebrate today.

But as we know, or ought to know, full equality for our LGBTQ+ friends has yet to be won. This is not only or primarily about legislation. It's as much about changing attitudes, winning hearts and minds as politicians used to say.  And this is the hard part. The extent of discrimination against gay people is deeply worrying. You want to hear gay people tell you about it? Try watching the excellent BBC3 series of documentaries Queer Britain (warning - not always comfortable viewing). You'll learn about religious prejudice against gay people, the bullying many young gay people experience at school, the mental health problems many face, the staggering proportion who are homeless because they have been thrown out of their homes - you wouldn't be human if you didn't feel for these victims who simply want to be allowed to love in the way that feels natural and right.

The first programme in the series was entitled, "Does God Hate Queers?" And that brings me to what I want to say most of all on this fiftieth anniversary. It is that we people of faith must, absolutely must, purge ourselves of words and actions - yes, and thoughts too - that discriminate against gay people, and assert or imply that religion is against them. And I mean the policies and practices of our faith institutions, not simply our behaviours as individual men and women. 

When it comes to legislation, which is what today is celebrating, the glaring statutory anomaly is the Church of England's continued inability to permit same sex marriages to be solemnised and blessed in church. The website of our national church says, somewhat disingenuously, that the C of E is not allowed by law to conduct equal marriages. But this exemption was specifically asked for by the Church! Parliament agreed to it, no doubt to help expedite the passage of the equal marriage measure through its houses. But politicians are increasingly unhappy about this exceptionalism as we've heard in some public utterances on the subject in the past few weeks. And it's clear from the two most recent meetings of the General Synod that the mood of the governing body of the Church is not very happy with the status quo either.

I've argued in a series of blogs (for example, here) for the Church's full acceptance of same sex marriage. And make no mistake. However tolerant and generous the Church's discourse about gay people, it's actions not words that count. Of this, equal marriage is now the acid test of equality. To accept it, not grudgingly but willingly and joyously, would make all the difference. Not to do so perpetuates the message that this is an institution that continues officially to practise discrimination. That can't be interpreted away (though some try very hard). This untenable position we are now in as the national church in England is a tragedy for its standing and reputation in the nation, especially among the young. To them especially, its stance feels archaic and cruel and wrong.

The Episcopal Church in Scotland has charted the way towards celebrating equal marriages in church. Here in Northumberland we live just south of the Scottish border, a few tiny minutes of latitude. But they make all the difference! In the English Middle March, I'm more than ever aware of our two churches' varying polity on this point. Actually, I'm not pessimistic about the Church of England's change of heart in the longer term. I'm as sure as I can be that in a decade or so, maybe less, the English Church will have followed where Scotland has led. Our church has a strong sense of justice and fairness, and it will assuredly act on these God-given instincts. It always has in the past, even if, as with slavery, contraception, the remarriage of divorced people and the ordination of women, the wheels have ground slowly. And equal marriage is, after all, only the law of the land! It's a good law. We should be heartily glad to catch up with it and embrace it.

But given the pace of change we have seen in our society in the last two decades, I believe we have to demonstrate far more of a sense of urgency. The Bishops intend to bring back to the General Synod a teaching document in sex and sexuality in due course. It's right that time is taken to do our theology and ethics rigorously and reflectively. But it's hard to imagine what stones remain unturned when it comes to same-sex relationships and Christianity. We have examined the scriptures exhaustively, we have reflected carefully on the tradition and on our human experience. We have done our best to understand the science. But we can agonise too much, I think. We can be too afraid to be decisive and take the long view. We can put off acting courageously, doing the right thing, by engaging in the displacement activity of endless process. "How long, O Lord?" On this auspicious day, I'd love to think that the Church of England could cross this rubicon and proudly (adverb intended) celebrate the wonderful part gay people play not only in our church but in our society.

Today, 27th July, happens to be my forty-third wedding anniversary. I've every reason to be profoundly thankful for the gift of marriage that has so enriched every aspect of my life. (I hope my wife would say the same, but it's for her to speak for herself.)  So my plea for equal marriage in the Church comes out of my own experience as a married man. Marriage is good for us. It should be open to everybody. So on this day of celebration, I urge us all in the Church of England to say yes to equal marriage. Please. With gladness and hope in our hearts. And soon.

Brexit: a Year after the Referendum

The first anniversary of a bereavement is a time of mixed feelings. On the one hand, the fact that the date has come round again can reopen the sharp pain of loss. On the other hand, it can also help us continue to let go of the past as we come to terms with the life we must now live.

Tomorrow, it will be one year since we voted to leave the European Union. Here's what I wrote in a blog the next day.

If I say that I am heartbroken, I don't want you to think that I'm dramatising. But as this "day after" dawns, it's hard for me to see any good in it. So much of my own story is intertwined with the story of continental Europe - if you've been reading this blog regularly, you'll understand how. So it feels as if part of my identity is being stripped away, all that is symbolised by the words "European Union" displayed in the cover of my passport. I've been immensely proud of my EU citizenship. I've regarded it as a privilege to think of myself in that way. To face the fact that I am going to lose a fundamental aspect of myself feels terrible. It's as if a light is going out.

When it was clear that Leave were on their way to winning, Paddy Ashdown tweeted: "God help our country". I share his sense of desperation. Or is it desolation? Or devastation? All those words seem to fit. At a stroke, we find ourselves in exile. It feels like a lonely place to be.

But I know, of course, that it is not the end of the world, however bad it seems. What I wrote at the end of the official (Christians for Europe) blog is the most important sentence of all. It's a quote from St Paul's second Corinthian letter where, having catalogued the ordeals and suffering he has had to face for the sake of the gospel, he speaks of his indomitable hope in the God of resurrection. "We do not lose heart."

I need to say those words to myself over and over again. It will take time to come to terms with what we have done as a nation. There are "fightings within and fears without". We undoubtedly face times of great difficulty. It may be that the UK may come to rue the day. But Paddy Ashdown has given me the clue about facing the future. "God help our country" is the best prayer we can say right now. For praying is all I can think of doing at this moment. 

What does it feel like a year on?

I wish I could say that we are in an altogether better place. I wish I could say that although I disagreed strongly with the Brexit vote, at least we have been able to unite around the result and face our future outside the EU with confidence. I wish I could say that our government has done its very best to recognise that nearly half of those who voted in the Referendum chose "Remain" and reach out to them. I wish I could say that as the negotiations began, our country had made early and binding undertakings to EU citizens from abroad who are resident in the UK. There is so much else I wish I could say today.

Instead, our nation seems more confused than ever about what it really wants. Who would have thought, on 23 June 2016, that within twelve months a new prime minister would be in office, and that we would have held another general election? Who could have predicted, even a few weeks ago, that its outcome would be a hung parliament with all its weaknesses and ambiguities? The word disarray doesn't feel too strong to describe the state we're in.

However, let's try to accentuate the positive. It's true that one reading of the election result is that as a nation we are more divided than ever. But there's another way of seeing it. It's that the British people has perhaps spoken with a wisdom that was not wholly conscious. I think we are saying: we want to see a more consensual style of politics in the UK. We want to see political parties talk to one another across their differences. In particular, we do not want the doctrinaire "hard" Brexit that Theresa May's rhetoric and negotiating position was leading us towards. The UK, I believe, wants to step back from this cliff-edge and find a way of leaving the Union that preserves as much as possible of what was good about our EU membership. This is now the mandate with which the electorate has charged the Prime Minister. And it's clear that Parliament is in no mood to make life easy for her. The fiendish complexities of Brexit legislation make for a formidable mountain to climb. The Government will be sorely tested at every step. That will be good for the outcome. It's too important for there not to be extensive and thorough scrutiny that a hung parliament now makes inevitable.

If it's going to be so hard to achieve, can we believe Brexit will really happen? Who knows. But I'm clear about one thing. The British people should be allowed a say on whether or not we approve the Brexit terms when they are finally negotiated. I'm not at all enamoured of referenda, because we elect MPs to make national decisions on our behalf. But as we look back to the decision of 2016, it's now become obvious that the vote did not express any view about the kind of Brexit that would best serve the nation, whether "hard", "soft" or "crashing out", whether in or out of the Single Market and the Customs Union and so on. The Government has simply made facile assumptions about what it thought we meant, and acted on them. That is now not going to be as easy to do. It seems to me that the only safe way of ensuring that the nation is behind whatever Brexit is negotiated is to put it to the electorate once again.

And if the electorate changes its mind? Well, that is its right. After all, the 2016 Referendum itself represented a change of mind following the UK's decisive endorsement of EEC membership in 1975. The sovereignty of Parliament implies that it may, if it wishes, consult the electorate and, if so advised, change its own mind on decisions reached previously. No decision is absolute: the 2016 Referendum result is not irrevocable. If the nation wishes to reverse it, we can. And this summer's election result may just suggest that the tide is turning and we are beginning to see sense.

Last year's prayer is still valid. I pray it often. I hope we all do. "God save our country." But it's not just our nation we must pray for. As I argued in last year's blogs, it's absolutely not simply a case of "what's best for Britain". We must pray for the welfare of Europe too, and of the whole family of humanity. These global concerns were always meant to be at the heart of our EU membership. We should never have narrowed our vision and become known across the Union for our grudging, foot-dragging ways. We Remainers should have talked up the importance of being an outward-facing people far more than we did in 2016 as a way of countering the self-concern of so much of the Brexit campaign and its meretricious red bus.

But there's still time to think again. That's part of moving on. Lament comes into things. But so does hope. As I wrote last year, we do not lose heart.

That Infamous Headline: a Question from Schooldays

Have we ever seen a more infamous headline in a British daily paper?

I mean the Daily Mail's front page on Friday 4 November. It was the day after the three High Court judges ruled that the government was bound by law to gain the consent of Parliament before invoking Article 50 and triggering Brexit. As we all know, it lined up mugshots of the three judges above the headline "Enemies of the People".

In a blog (here) the same day I spelled out what I thought was at stake in the High Court's ruling and the Prime Minister's rush to appeal it: respect for law, governance and parliamentary democracy. Many have defended the judges and many have dissented. Fair enough. Testing judgments is what legal process is for. But if you are going to dissent, it needs to be done intelligently. It's not enough to denounce, attack and stamp your foot. The Mail seems to me to be wilfully perverse in just not "getting" it. For this case in law has nothing to do with Brexit itself, whether Britain should or shouldn't leave the EU. It has everything to do with the legal process by which the referendum decision to leave is achieved. This, said the judges, was a matter for Parliament, not the Executive alone.

So the Mail's headline is based on the false premise that by interfering with the referendum Brexit vote, the judges were guilty of meddling in politics. But it's worse than that. To denounce them as "enemies of the people" is an offensive slur on their integrity and professionalism. They know the boundaries of the law's competence better than anyone. Straying beyond them in the High Court to play politics would be unthinkable. And if the judges have acted as enemies in upholding the role of Parliament in the Brexit process, that's tantamount to asserting that Parliament too is the enemy. If I were a parliamentarian, whatever my party or position on Brexit, I would be extremely angry.

This amounts to an implied attack on the independence of the judiciary. A free press is at liberty to disagree with judges just as it's free to dissent from politicians. But once it goes beyond that and starts saying, in effect, that the judgment should have found for the government because that was its business, the independence of judicial scrutiny is entirely subverted. The reality is that in the British Constitution, Prime Minister, her Executive and the Crown itself are all subject to the law of the land. It's the job of the judiciary to clarify what that law is. That's what the judges were doing as conscientiously as they knew how.

The Daily Mail has in the past won awards for its reporting and investigative journalism. So let's not disparage what the Mail has achieved just because we're at odds with it (not for the first time). But that doesn't excuse serious lapses of judgment. Cheap headlines like this are unworthy of a responsible paper. They don't clarify, they aren't truth-seeking, they don't foster serious debate and they don't help us to "disagree well" to use the Archbishop of Canterbury's phrase. All they do is to raise the temperature and fuel mistrust. They are more at home in regimes where the judiciary is in the pockets of dictators or powerful paylords, not in constitutional democracies like ours. "Enemies of the People" may achieve a dramatic effect (who will forget it?) but it's meretricious and unprincipled.

Now, the editor of the Daily Mail is Paul Dacre. I was at school with him in the 1960s: I think we were exact contemporaries. A writer rang me up a while ago to ask if I remembered him from schooldays. I replied that I hadn't known him well, but I did have a clear memory of one thing: his prowess on the rugby pitch. How I envied sporting ability like his! I was the clumsiest rugby player you ever saw and no better at cricket. Those who won their colours were like gods to me. I imagined there was nothing they could not and would not achieve in life. And becoming editor of a national newspaper is indeed a pretty big achievement.

You may have got the impression that he and I went to a typical public school where old-fashioned values were shaped by the classics, chapel services, corporal punishment, the playing field and the corps.  Well it wasn't like that at all. True, it was an independent (day) school where we did study classics and did play rugby. But our school had been founded by far-seeing and enlightened men in the early nineteenth century in pursuit of a vision for society shaped by utilitarian ideas and free of religious ideology. In the prep school I found myself in Bentham House. That says it all. For Jeremy Bentham (1748-1832), virtue in a society meant "the greatest happiness for the greatest number". It has proved to be a profoundly influential idea throughout the English-speaking world thanks to the writings of John Stuart Mill.

Because of this, my parents decided to send me there. My father and mother were a mixed marriage of non-observants, Anglican and Jewish. They believed religion was a source of division and conflict in the world, and wanted their children educated in a liberal environment free of religious obligations and loyalties. (How ironic that it was at school that I found my Christian faith as a teenager, or rather, it found me. God moves in mysterious ways.) They wanted us to be good citizens of a world where religion, politics and ideas were debated in a tolerant way that was not afraid of diversity, and instead of invoking dogma, looked for understanding. They wouldn't have put it in quite that way. But it's what they were feeling for.

I realise how much I owe to that education. It's true that for a while, the conservative evangelical Christianity I'd embraced threatened to eclipse the liberal outlook I'd been formed in. I'm grateful that by the time I was ordained in the 1970s, I was able to see things in a larger context. I began to understand that if humanity is to survive, let alone flourish, we must all learn to live as adults in a world of religious, political and ideological differences. It's not that there's no place left for conviction or passion. It's how we express them and embody them that counts, and (just as important) how we listen to other people's passion and conviction. It's part of finding our place in the world where tolerance, understanding, generosity and trust are everything.

This was the school both Paul Dacre and I come from. So you'll see why Friday's headline poses a question for me. If our school influenced me in the ways I've described, I'm wondering how it influenced him too. For the editor of the Daily Mail presides over a paper that seems to me to have taken on Friday a rather different approach to the week's events from the one I'd thought he and I were schooled in. "Enemies of the People" is just not the way his education and mine taught us to do business. It tried to help us learn that we don't scream with rage or impugn one another's integrity; instead, we listen and try to understand; we argue it out, and if we differ it's without rancour. There's no place in the public discourse of a civilised society for shrillness. It brings no credit to a responsible newspaper that claims to be proud of our British values and ways of doing things.

So because I'm interested in human nature (it's my job to be), I'm intrigued by what motivates the thinking of this powerful and able man who for so long has sat at the helm of the Daily Mail. Perhaps my old school contemporary will tell us how his mind works nowadays, half a century after he and I parted company for the last time.

blog

The High Court and Brexit

A good day for democracy?

Gary Lineker tweeted last night: "Absolutely outrageous that parliament might have to make a political decision on the country's future."  Right on target, straight into the goal. (He is rapidly becoming one of my heroes, not because of Match of the Day but for the astuteness of his social and political comments, whether it's refugees, the media or Brexit. If you don't already follow him on Twitter, give him a try. You'll be in good company with 5.3 million others.) 

He grasped what the apoplectic right wing tabloids and their screaming headlines seemed to have missed. The High Court ruling that Parliament needs to be consulted before Article 50 is triggered is emphatically not in itself about Brexit. It is not trying to undo the referendum result by stalling the UK's departure from the European Union. It is not tampering with the policies of the Prime Minister and her government. It is not interfering with the business of ministers. It is insulting to the three senior lawyers to imply that they have crossed a line and played politics. They know better than anyone the limits of their own  competence. 

It's purely and simply about the law and what the Executive can and cannot legally do. It all turns on the Royal Prerogative that is being invoked by Mrs May as her authority to trigger Article 50 and give notice of the UK's intent to leave the EU. This was the point that was being tested in law. The judgment is that the government and Crown have "no power to alter the law of the land by use of its prerogative powers". And that's unanimous. The Prime Minister must seek the consent of Parliament before she takes this action. If she doesn't, its legality will be in question and the entire process will be flawed from the very outset.

I should have thought that those who cried "give us back our country!" during the referendum campaign would have welcomed this judgment. They couldn't have asked for a more ringing endorsement of parliamentary sovereignty which was one of the central issues of the referendum debate. Nothing but good can come from proper debate in which arguments are set out and tested. It will enable elected members to sound out their constituents on what they thought they intended when they voted in June. It will offer the government the opportunity to set out its Brexit negotiating position and benefit from the parliamentary conversation that follows. As someone said today, voting to leave the EU is simply a decision to take off on a journey somewhere else. What we don't yet know is where we are going to land. It makes sense for the passengers to be involved in agreeing on the destination. That's where elected members come in. 

Thanks to the ruling, there will be checks and balances that make sure powers are separated and the executive doesn't overreach itself by behaving unilaterally. I've worked long enough in institutions to have learned how open, transparent processes are extraordinarily clarifying in difficult and contentious situations. Leaving the EU is a formidably complex affair, not least in its legal ramifications. So why should the government be so afraid of public debate and parliamentary scrutiny that it is appealing this key judgment? It should be grateful for all the help it can get. Forget the media hype and the storm on social media. And even forget Remainers who imagine that Brexit is now less likely  to happen than it was before. (How I wish they were right, but that's another matter.)

No, the most worrying consequence of the High Court ruling is how the executive is reacting to it by closing ranks against its peers in Parliament. As someone else tweeted today, they are at risk of treating Parliament as if they were the enemy. And that's concerning.

When I've seen this sort of thing happen in other institutions like schools, universities and churches, it always ends badly. Nothing is gained by clinging on to power in a way that excludes those who ought rightly to be participants in decision-making. Everyone loses. And among the values that are most put at risk are what we most cherish in public life: trust, integrity, openness, truth-seeking, shared ownership and responsibility, the capacity to listen and think we could be mistaken. These are all essential to good governance. It's troubling that these virtues are on the line so soon in this administration's term of office. 

The lack of self-doubt among senior Brexiters in government is in danger of infecting the whole administration. It smacks of insecurity. I hope that back bench parliamentarians of all parties, whatever their views on Brexit, will not collude with any erosion of their authority. They were elected as this nation's sovereign legislature. Their voice is our voice. These are momentous times for the United Kingdom. Parliament's role is always critical but especially at defining historical moments like this. 

So Mrs May, you don't need to appeal this ruling. Please trust your parliamentary peers and trust the process. This ruling will enhance your authority in the long run, not diminish it. Remember your constituents and those whom your fellow members represent up and down the land. Be statesmanlike. It will win you respect among those who care about good governance as well as good outcomes for our people and our world.

One final thought. We should be proud of our independent judiciary who are not in the pocket of politicans. There are many who envy us, people who don't have the privilege of living in a democracy. It's awkward at times when you're in a hurry to get things done. But think where we'd be without it. We must never never put it at risk.