The clash of civilisations will not be with Islam

“Don’t panic!” says distinguished Cambridge academic.

Amid the news that France's lower house of parliament voted yesterday to ban women from wearing face-covering veils, a pathetic piece of populism aimed at exploiting fears about Islam which has already been condemned by Amnesty, it is something of a relief to come across a more pragmatic, no-nonsense assessment of where the real sources of global tension will be in the future.

Professor Nicholas Boyle, president of Magdalene College, Cambridge, and a scholar of German and European history, has just published a book titled 2014: How to Survive the Next World Crisis. Many might expect such an imminent doomsday to involve terrorism of some sort (probably Islamist, as that's the kind of terrorism most people seem to fear), or militant jihadism spilling out of Afghanistan, through Pakistan and into central Asia and the Middle East, destabilising all those pro-western autocracies we've propped up for so long.

Four years is too soon for the "couple of generations" that one Mail columnist has warned is all there is left before "Islam will be in control in Europe", but something on those lines, some tipping point in birth rates, perhaps, could soon be upon us. Or so many seem to think.

Not at all, says Boyle. "It would," he writes, "be a mistake to include [among the worst-case scenarios] a supposed clash of 'western' and 'Islamic' civilisations." How so? I'm going to quote the swift paragraph with which he dismisses such fears in full, as it's such a surprisingly different perspective:

It is not a profound source of tension in the world, of the kind that moves economies and armies. The apparent significance of the western-Islamic divide is a consequence of the dependence (in the drug-addicted sense) of the USA on Middle Eastern oil and of the disproportionate leverage on American foreign policy exercised by states in that region, from Saudi Arabia to Israel. If in the course of the 21st century that oil runs out, or alternative sources of either oil or energy in general become available, the late-20th-century concern with the culture and politics of these small and otherwise unproductive countries will seem as obsolete as 16th- or 17th-century concerns for the control of the Spice Islands.

Boyle clearly makes several assumptions here, not least that the spread of violent radicalism to what are certainly not small countries -- Pakistan, for instance -- is contingent on backing by oil money. And his rather rude description of the Gulf states makes it unlikely that his book will fly off the shelves in Doha or Bahrain, let alone Tehran or Riyadh.

But he is not a great Islamophile or "apologist". His assessment, which has no cause to be partial with regard to religion, is simply that those who constantly warn of cataclysms and "Eurabia" are wasting their time. You're worrying about nothing, he says. And with that one paragraph, he is done with the likes of Daniel Pipes, Mark Steyn, Melanie Phillips et al. As I say, a bracingly refreshing view indeed!

Subscription offer: Get 12 issues for just £12 PLUS a free copy of "The Idea of Justice" by Amartya Sen.

Sholto Byrnes is a Contributing Editor to the New Statesman
Getty
Show Hide image

This election has sparked a weird debate – one in which no one seems to want to talk

 The noise level hasn’t risen above a low gurgle in the background.

If this is a general election in which the tectonic plates are shifting, they’re the quietest tectonic plates I’ve ever heard. All the parties are standing on pretty radical platforms, yet the noise level hasn’t risen above a low gurgle in the background, like a leaking tap we can’t be bothered to get fixed.

Big issues are being decided here. How do we pay for care, or health, or education? How do we square closed borders with open trade, and why isn’t anyone talking about it? Democracy is on the line, old people are being treated like electoral fodder, our infrastructure is mangled, the NHS is collapsing around us so fast that soon all that’s left will be one tin of chicken soup and a handful of cyanide capsules, and we face the prospect of a one-party Tory state for decades to come. All this and yet . . . silence. There seem to be no shouts of anger in this election. It’s a woozy, sleepy affair.

I knew something was afoot the moment it was called. Theresa May came out of No 10 and said she was having an election because she was fed up with other parties voting against her. No one seemed to want to stand up and tell her that’s a pretty good definition of how functioning democracy works. Basically, she scolded parliament for not going along with her.

Why were we not stunned by the sheer autocratic cheek of the moment? With news outlets, true and fake, growing in number by the day, why was this creeping despotism not reported? Am I the only one in a state of constant flabbergast?

But the Prime Minister’s move paid off. “Of course,” everyone said, “the real argument will now take place across the country, and we welcome,” they assured us, “the chance to have a national debate.”

Well, it’s a pretty weird debate – one in which no one wants to talk. So far, the only person May has debated live on air has been her husband, as Jeremy Corbyn still wanders the country like an Ancient Mariner, signalling to everyone he meets that he will not speak to anyone unless that person is Theresa May. Campaign events have been exercises in shutting down argument, filtering out awkward questions, and speaking only to those who agree with every word their leader says.

Then came the loud campaign chants – “Strong and stable” versus “The system’s rigged against us” – but these got repeated so often that, like any phrase yelled a thousand times, the sense soon fell out of them. Party leaders might as well have mooned at each other from either side of a river.

Granted, some others did debate, but they carried no volume. The Ukip leader, Paul Nuttall, achieved what no one thought possible, by showing the country that Nigel Farage had stature. And there’s a special, silent hell where Tim Farron languishes, his argument stifled at every turn by a media bent on quizzing him on what sort of hell he believes in.

Meanwhile, the party manifestos came out, with titles not so much void of meaning as so bored of it that they sounded like embarrassed whispers. Forward, Together; The Many Not the Few; Change Britain’s Future: these all have the shape and rhythm of political language, but nothing startles them into life. They are not so much ­clarion calls as dusty stains on old vellum. Any loosely connected words will do: Building My Tomorrow or Squaring the Hypotenuse would be equally valid. I still pray for the day when, just for once, a party launches its campaign with something like Because We’re Not Animals! but I realise that’s always going to stay a fantasy.

Maybe because this is the third national vote in as many years, our brains are starting to cancel out the noise. We really need something to wake us up from this torpor – for what’s happening now is a huge transformation of the political scene, and one that we could be stuck with for the next several decades if we don’t shake ourselves out of bed and do something about it.

This revolution came so quietly that no one noticed. Early on in the campaign, Ukip and the Conservatives formed a tacit electoral pact. This time round, Ukip isn’t standing in more than 200 seats, handing Tory candidates a clear run against their opponents in many otherwise competitive constituencies. So, while the left-of-centre is divided, the right gets its act together and looks strong. Tory votes have been artificially suppressed by the rise of Ukip over the past few elections – until it won 12.6 per cent of the electorate in 2015. With the collapse of the Ukip vote, and that party no longer putting up a fight in nearly a third of constituencies, Theresa May had good reason to stride about the place as cockily as she did before the campaign was suspended because of the Manchester outrage.

That’s why she can go quiet, and that’s why she can afford to roam into the centre ground, with some policies stolen from Ed Miliband (caps on energy bill, workers on company boards) and others from Michael Foot (spending commitments that aren’t costed). But that is also why she can afford to move right on immigration and Brexit. It’s why she feels she can go north, and into Scotland and Wales. It’s a full-blooded attempt to get rid of that annoying irritant of democracy: opposition.

Because May’s opponents are not making much of this land-grab, and because the media seem too preoccupied with the usual daily campaign gaffes and stammering answers from underprepared political surrogates, it falls once again to the electorate to shout their disapproval.

More than two million new voters have registered since the election was announced. Of these, large numbers are the under-25s. Whether this will be enough to cause any psephological upsets remains to be seen. But my hope is that those whom politicians hope to keep quiet are just beginning to stir. Who knows, we might yet hear some noise.

This article first appeared in the 25 May 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Why Islamic State targets Britain

0800 7318496