Good article by Neil Oliver:
We claim to value democracy yet treat some votes with contempt.
Many forms of government have been tried, and will be tried in this world of sin and woe. No one pretends that democracy is perfect or all-wise. Indeed it has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.” So said Winston Churchill, in November 1947.
It’s beginning to look as though we are sleepwalking towards some other form of government, right enough. Look at the US for heaven’s sake — the land of the free invited to choose between a heart attack and a stroke.
True democrats are few and far between, of course. On hearing the result of a democratic vote, it ought to behove those in the minority to accept the decision and set their shoulders to the wheel in hopes of making a successful reality of the wishes of the majority. That would be democracy in its purest form — acceptance of the primacy of the will of the many over that of the few.
How many of us are wired up that way? Instead we grit our teeth, bear grudges and wait for the next plebiscite in hopes of getting our own way. In the meantime we bitch and moan — dragging our heels to stymie the progress of the victors. In this way we mostly make a mockery of democracy.
Now, it seems, we are poised to take the next step and blatantly champion the rightness of ignoring, utterly disregarding, the majority view.
I wanted to remain in the EU — not because it’s my favourite thing, but because I felt the whole circus tent was about to collapse anyway. Better to be seen to be inside the tent peeing out, I thought, than outside peeing in. If I may mix a metaphor, it’s never a good idea to be remembered as the first rat to abandon a sinking ship.
Anyway — more than half of those who voted favoured shuffling out through the tent flap door while the big top’s pole was still upright. So be it, I thought — that’s that and we’ll have to get on with it.
Except we are developing a tradition in this United Kingdom whereby the results of a referendum are not worth the paper the question was printed on.
Since the moment the die was cast on June 23, the “remainers” have been pretending the vote didn’t happen, or didn’t count because it was somehow the wrong answer to the question.
Up here in the north, the practice of disregarding the settled will of the people is already up and running. The once-in-a-generation referendum on breaking Scotland out of the Union returned a comfortable 55-45 result in favour of the status quo. No sooner was that result announced, however, than the 45 — led by the SNP — set about pretending the majority had made a mistake.
They didnae mean it, you might say, and so we found ourselves facing the prospect of the neverendum. It would appear the SNP may see fit to demand always one more vote — and if the fabled “yes” to so-called independence is ever handed down, that, and only that, will be the result that makes all the difference. The SNP only has to be lucky once.
All this Brexit malarkey raises a different possibility: since the High Court has decided parliament must have its say in advance of the enactment of article 50 of the Lisbon treaty, maybe any proposed break up of the Union would require something similar. Maybe a successful vote for “yes” could be challenged as well. Who knows — the only certainty is that we live in interesting times in which “down” might actually be “up” and “no” might very well mean “yes”.
It seems we have grown contemptuous of democracy. At the very least we have tired of the complexities of grown-up debate. Rather than allow that complicated matters affecting the lives of millions might require sophisticated, multifaceted answers, now we settle for flicking a switch. Referendums are binary: the switch is either on or off.
I’ve come to the conclusion it’s because we are spoilt. This existence we have in the United Kingdom is not the real world. I’ve been around a bit, and I know this. We live under an invisible dome made of our painful history — protected from reality just as astronauts are kept alive by their helmets in the vacuum of space. As the saying goes: “I wear a suit of armour, made only of my mistakes.”
Europe isn’t the real world either, but their helmets have cracks in them. The real world is Africa, the Middle East. Elsewhere billions more people exist in circumstances that would cause most of us — were we ever to find ourselves out there without our helmets — to curl up and die and blow away on the wind.
Here in the UK we live in a wonderland, protected by the rule of law, free from oppression — the sort of place the tattered outcasts of the Earth tell their wide-eyed children about.
We are so spoilt we are throwing stones inside our magical dome.
I’ve begun to think that for those of us born since the end of the Second World War, this unreality we have enjoyed has come to seem like something that just happened — that has always been and always will be.
What will it take before we realise what a precious place this Britain is? When will we see it as others do — as an elegant cruise liner, afloat on a storm-tossed, shark-infested sea.
Places like this don’t just happen. This Britain is the product of millennia of strife and it’s a safer, better place to be than anywhere else on Earth.