Article: The Brexit Box

Brexit has failed. If you still need convincing of that, this post is not for you. I’m taking it as a given.

If you too take it as a given, where does that leave the case for rejoining?

Surprisingly elusive. Why?

Because our debate has become boxed in, and confined to three dominant positions.

First: the Brexiteer position. They cannot countenance it being undone. They will argue democratic mandate, patriotism, sovereignty, EU malignancy and uplands upon which the sun, if only we wait long enough, or believe hard enough, will eventually shine. If you’re taking the failure of Brexit as read, you won’t be hugely impressed by such arguments.

Second: there is the Political Pragmatist’s position. Broadly where Starmer’s Labour party sits. Here the position is that the politics of rejoin are too dangerous. Who wants to open up that ugly debate again? And apart from being ugly, it is dangerous: the evidence of Brexit’s failure might not be enough to win a rematch, because it was never really about evidence. Such is the thinking, and you can see why politicians who want to debate other issues, and paint a positive picture of the future, feel the need to shy away from reopening festering wounds.

Third: there is the Resigned Remainer’s position. This school of thought extends the political pragmatist’s thinking and adds in: rejoining would be hard. The EU might not want us back. There will be various obstacles arising from our having left which will be hard to unravel. There might be genuine problems with the EU which need addressing. There are certainly issues within the UK which made fertile ground for anti-EU sentiment, and these have not been addressed. The EU might impose unpalatable conditions on a rejoining UK. The EU might insist on evidence that the UK is, on second coming, there to stay, and how would that be demonstrated? More god-forsaken referendums? Accession is never a quick process – it’s a ten year or more deal – and so we might as well accept our lot outside the EU and make the best of it.

Of course there are nuanced views, and there is some travel between the groups. I’d say Tony Blair’s position – ‘we’re out for a generation’ – has one foot in the Pragmatists’ camp, and one in that of the Resigned Remainers.

The problem with all of these camps is they are defeatist. The first because the Brexiteers can’t bear to have been found out, and wish to strangle at birth any attempt at repair. The second because, by design, it locks out debate and leaves its principal proponents, the Labour Party, far behind fast-changing public opinion. The third because, although it welcomes debate, it nevertheless looks out through an Overton Window of despair.

There must be a fourth camp. A camp where energy, urgency and hope thrive. Where we know that our standards are still more or less aligned with those of the EU because until recently we were a leading member of the bloc. An energised effort to maintain that alignment will make returning to the fold smoother and easier; it is not something to let slide for a few years while we wait passively for the stars to fight in their courses. Heaven cannot rescue us; we have to do it for ourselves.

In this fourth camp, of course there is acknowledgment that there’s work to be done in facing squarely the failings of our system. Inside or outside of a trading bloc, we cannot leave millions of our own people behind and call ourselves a decent society. Enough of that crap.

And there is, no doubt, more to be done to make the EU feel like it belongs to its member states rather than sitting on top of them. Energised determination to rejoin the EU does not mean blind belief that the UK or the EU are perfect as they are. On the contrary, it demands the political will to fight on a grand scale for the tough stuff: dramatic redistribution and re-engagement inside the UK, and real leadership and painstaking, unglamorous cooperation on the international stage.

We need to break our discourse out of the Brexit box, and shift it towards this fourth camp. We need our best politicians to step forward, occupy and lead this fourth camp. Drive. Belief. Statesmanship. Britain led in Europe before. Britain can lead in Europe again. Britain, and Europe, have nothing to gain from delay, and everything to gain from haste.

Article: In the mid-90s I set fire to myself

In the mid-90s I set fire to myself. My sister and her husband arrived for dinner from the Isle of Wight. I turned up the gas on the stove and threw the pasta into the boiling water.

As they came in I turned to greet them. The kitchen in our little flat was tiny. I leaned back and saw their faces turn from glad-to-be-here to sheer horror. Then I felt the flames at my back. My shirt was on fire.

I’ll spare you the details but I was extensively burnt. At Hammersmith A&E I waited many hours with no treatment for a doctor to examine me, just a protective pad over my back.

As I waited in pain I consoled myself that I was faring better than the previous occupant of my cubicle: it was spattered with blood, in an impressive, murder-scene arc.

Eventually an exhausted young doctor examined me. She was so tired that she did not lift the pad, but saw some exposed burns near it, and thought them minor. A nurse had to lift the pad and show her the full extent of my burns.

My injuries would have been better if I had not had to wait hours without treatment, but they were not so bad as to require admission. I was cleaned up and bandaged up and told to return daily.

On my next visit, a doctor asked a nurse to clean up my burns. I heard muttering outside and then the doctor exploded. “We’re in a major London A&E – are you telling me we don’t have a disinfectant to clean this patient’s burns?” That WAS what they were telling him.

Eventually the doctor asked for saline and hydrogen peroxide and mixed them and cleaned me up himself. After a few days, I began to feel really fragile. Going by bus to the hospital was really uncomfortable. I boarded slowly and carefully, irritating others.

When the bus jolted and I hit my back, I wanted to cry out. I was exhausted and in pain and remembered feeling: this could be what it feels like to be old in the city and not getting the care you need.

Several days after my accident, I was back again in the A&E cubicles awaiting another dressing change. I realized it was the same cubicle I had lain in for hours on that fateful night. It had the same arced blood spatter on the walls, now old and dried and so very, very grim.

Back on the bus, sitting forward and hanging on tight like an old man, a rage grew inside me and I thought: our NHS is screwed. We have to do something. We cannot just let this happen. I got in touch with my local Labour Party and signed up.

I wasn’t a campaigner back then, but I followed politics with a new keenness. I was in my mid twenties and already feeling vulnerable. I wanted a healthcare system that would see me through, and there was every sign that that was a pipe dream. No disinfectant in A&E, FFS.

John Smith died and I watched the hustings for the new Labour leader. Prescott, Beckett and this young guy, Blair. Blair looked nervous as hell, but spoke with vision and optimism. Three years later, Britain was a different place, with a future ahead of it, a sense of renewal and community.

The NHS was rebuilt. A four-hour limit was set on A&E waiting times. Spending was raised to the EU average. Treatment waiting lists steadily shortened. I had started a family and my fear that the health service might, some day, cease to be there for us fell away.

I forgot all about that moment in 1994. The long painful wait in the night. The obviously overworked doctor. The absence of disinfectant. The uncleaned cubicle. Those days were gone. By the end of the Labour government, the NHS was our proudest boast.

The NHS, still, for the 2012 Olympics, was THE thing that united us and even defined us. But it didn’t come to define us by accident. It did so as a result of a Labour government’s steady investment, commitment and reform. It wasn’t perfect, but oh boy, it was better.

And yet here we are again. The NHS is in existential crisis. On Sunday, Royal College of Emergency Medicine president Dr Adrian Boyle said between 300 and 500 people were dying every week as a result of delays to emergency care. Once again, we must hope and push for a decent government to restore it. It will come. It will happen. But meanwhile, many of us will have our confidence tested, and our sense of security stripped away.

Some of us will wait too long in pain for acute or chronic care. Others may pay the ultimate price of bad government. If you are worried, as I was and as I am, do something. Hold on tightly on the bus, get home and join a progressive party. Campaign. Win. And #takebackBritain.

The Conversation

It’s pretty much exactly 16 years since Labour won a general election. This election broadcast film, The Conversation, was a memorable part of that campaign. It was produced by my partner at Lucas/Minghella, Mark Lucas, and directed by my brother, Anthony.

Video courtesy of Silverfish Films.

PS. There’s a terrific untold story about the filming of The Conversation. I’m minded to turn it into a drama. Watch this space!!