“I was a remainer” already sounds like the start of a dystopian novel, or the beginning of an anecdote to a grandchild in years to come. Yet I was. Sceptical of aspects of European Union policy and its lack of accountability, I never felt the slightest desire to abandon or destroy it, any more than I would with the UK, about which I harbour many of the same reservations. Ultimately, as an internationalist living in the 21st century, I understood globalisation as a reality and not a choice, and wanted a Europe for people and values—not just money and markets. This remains my hope.
And yet, just as throughout the dismal campaign, the discussion remains strikingly narrow. Anxiety about the economic consequences of “Brexit” are everywhere. Whether here in our shell-shocked divided kingdom, or across the channel in the EU nations that we have half turned our back on, the likely effects of June’s referendum result are ceaselessly calculated via the indices of pounds, euros, GDP and interest rates—understandably so. But what of the deeper, broader and indeed generational dangers? Harder to quantify but no less important to health, happiness and human rights in the continent that, not so long ago, spawned two world wars and the Holocaust.
I was not unmoved by the xenophobia of the “Leave” campaign, nor by the clear wishes of the young with their overwhelming majorities in favour of staying. The result gave rise to stories of inter-generational conflict—even within families. The expressed feelings of rejection and despair among so many who otherwise live, work and rub along together still linger. They must be healed in time by whatever comes next, but in contrast with the referendum itself, this will take longer and require answers that look beyond our borders and presently enfranchised electorate.
It is another form of prejudice to suggest that every “leaver” was a chauvinist or racist. Yet too many with influence over the campaign make casual play with divisive cards. The spike in reported hate crime in public places was as troubling as the stories of friends, families and communities trading insults of betrayal. In the uncertain times ahead for our country and continent, there is an urgent need for an injection of calm civility and reason into our discourse.
This Autumn will revive arguments about rights and freedoms at home and abroad. Debates about scrapping Britain’s Human Rights Act and even our potential withdrawal from the European Convention on Human Rights, which predates and applies in more countries than the EU, are now back on the table. Once upon a time these may have been—at least in part—devices to enhance the credentials of reluctant remainers with their Eurosceptic political base. Now it seems these appetites have not been satisfied—and the wisdom of feeding the beast looks doubtful. More positively, just as there were remainers who are human rights sceptics, the converse is also true—at least two senior ministers who campaigned to “Leave” have in the past defended both the Human Rights Act and the Convention it enshrines.
"With human rights, the dominoes extend beyond the 28 EU states to all 47 countries in the Council of Europe. Choices will have consequences."As with the Brexit vote, British choices will have wider consequences. The line of potential dominoes extends beyond the 28 EU member states to the 47 countries that make up the Council of Europe (and the 820m people who live in those countries) whose Convention aims to maintain fundamental liberties and the Rule of Law right across Europe, including troubled Turkey and most of the Balkans.
Turkey’s EU accession aspirations have long run ahead of its human rights record. While Angela Merkel’s recent deal with Ankara—which aims to get a grip on the migration crisis, by facilitating the return of refugees from Greece to Turkey—blithely assumes a degree of safety for these desperate people, this is contested by human rights monitors. Further, the recent failed insurrection has prompted a crack-down on political and journalistic freedom. President Recep Tayyip Erdogan openly encourages discussion of restoring the death penalty, which would be a flagrant—and surely final—breach with a Convention which explicitly bans it. But all these trends are anathema to the Convention, which Britain’s Human Rights Act honours and promotes.
Russian dissidents have long expressed anxiety about British talk of diluting support for the Convention. The families of those murdered in the Beslan school massacre told the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg in 2014 of their fears that the withdrawl of the UK “would be an excuse for our government to say ‘We don’t want it either!’ Putin would point at the UK straight away. It would be a catastrophe.”
There would be inevitable tremors in France and Germany too. Far right politics have already taken a boost from the refugee crisis, recent terror attacks, as well as the Brexit vote. The German Chancellor has rightly drawn a clear line between refugees and terrorists in her country. However senior politicians there are poised to follow France and others in banning the face veil—one illiberal impulse that Britain has thus far resisted. The Council of Europe and Strasbourg court have yet to interfere. British voices—with our particular experience of religious tolerance, positive multiculturalism and the wise abandonment of various panic post-9/11 anti-terror measures—have much to contribute to this discussion. It would be tragic if they were no longer heard.
Finally there is the threat to the UK itself with Brexit provoking calls for another Scottish referendum. Imagine England with a closed northern border and the flight of our young in search of rights, freedoms and optimism elsewhere. Might the healing begin with a positive decision to preserve both the Human Rights Act and the Convention? Perhaps conflicting libertarian and internationalist instincts might be partially reconciled over common values, if not a single market.
