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John Pilger: Britain, America and the war on democracy

From the Chagos Islands to Pakistan, innocent civilians are pawns to America, backed by Britain. In our compliant political culture, this deadly game seldom speaks its name.

Lisette Talate died the other day. I remember a wiry, fiercely intelligent woman who masked her grief with a determination that was a presence. She was the embodiment of people's resistance to the war on democracy. I first glimpsed her in a 1950s Colonial Office film about the Chagos Islanders, a tiny creole nation living midway between Africa and Asia in the Indian Ocean. The camera panned across thriving villages, a church, a school, a hospital, set in phenomenal natural beauty and peace. Lisette remembers the producer saying to her and her teenage friends, "Keep smiling, girls!"

Sitting in her kitchen in Mauritius many years later, she said: "I didn't have to be told to smile. I was a happy child, because my roots were deep in the islands, my paradise. My great-grandmother was born there; I made six children there. That's why they couldn't legally throw us out of our own homes; they had to terrify us into leaving or force us out. At first, they tried to starve us. The food ships stopped arriving, [then] they spread rumours we would be bombed, then they turned on our dogs."

In the early 1960s, the Labour government of Harold Wilson secretly agreed to a demand from Washington that the Chagos archipelago, a British colony, be "swept" and "sanitised" of its 2,500 inhabitants so that a military base could be built on the principal island, Diego Garcia. "They knew we were inseparable from our pets," said Lisette. "When the American soldiers arrived to build the base, they backed their big trucks against the brick shed where we prepared the coconuts; hundreds of our dogs had been rounded up and imprisoned there. Then they gassed them through tubes from the trucks' exhausts. You could hear them crying."

Lisette, her family and hundreds of the other islanders were forced on to a rusting steamer bound for Mauritius, a journey of a thousand miles. They were made to sleep in the hold on a cargo of fertiliser - bird shit. The weather was rough; everyone was ill; two of the women on board miscarried.

Dumped on the docks at Port Louis, Lisette's youngest children, Jollice and Regis, died within a week of each other. "They died of sadness," she said. "They had heard all the talk and seen the horror of what had happened to the dogs. They knew they were leaving their home for ever. The doctor in Mauritius said he could not treat sadness."

This act of mass kidnapping was carried out in high secrecy. In one official file, under the heading "Maintaining the Fiction", the Foreign Office legal adviser exhorts his colleagues to cover their actions by "reclassifying" the population as "floating" and to "make up the rules as we go along". Article 7 of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court says the "deportation or forcible transfer of population" is a crime against humanity. That Britain had committed such a crime - in exchange for a $14m discount off a US Polaris nuclear submarine - was not on the agenda of a group of British "defence" correspondents flown to the Chagos by the Ministry of Defence when the US base was completed. "There is nothing in our files," said the MoD, "about inhabitants or an evacuation."

Today, Diego Garcia is crucial to America's and Britain's war on democracy. The heaviest bombing of Iraq and Afghanistan was launched from its vast airstrips, beyond which the islanders' abandoned cemetery and church stand like archaeological ruins. The terraced garden where Lisette laughed for the camera is now a fortress housing the "bunker-busting" bombs carried by bat-shaped B-2 aircraft to targets on two continents; an attack on Iran will start here. As if to complete the emblem of rampant, criminal power, the CIA added a Guantanamo-style prison for its "rendition" victims and called it Camp Justice.

Wipe-out

What was done to Lisette's paradise has an urgent and universal meaning, for it represents the violent, ruthless nature of a whole political culture behind its democratic façade, and the scale of our own indoctrination in its messianic assumptions, described by Harold Pinter as a "brilliant, even witty, highly successful act of hypnosis". Longer and bloodier than any other war since 1945, waged with demonic weapons and a gangsterism dressed as economic policy and sometimes known as globalisation, the war on democracy is unmentionable in western elite circles. As Pinter wrote, "It never happened . . . Even while it was happening it wasn't happening." Last July, the American historian William Blum published his updated "summary of the charming record of US foreign policy". Since the Second World War, the United States has:

1) Attempted to overthrow more than 50 governments, most of them democratically elected.
2) Attempted to suppress a populist or national movement in 20 countries.
3) Grossly interfered in democratic elections in at least 30 countries.
4) Dropped bombs on the people of more than 30 countries.
5) Attempted to assassinate more than 50 foreign leaders.

In total, the United States has carried out one or more of these actions in 69 countries. In almost all cases, Britain has been a collaborator. The "enemy" changes in name - from communism to Islamism - but mostly it is the rise of democracy independent of western power, or a society occupying strategically useful territory and deemed expendable, like the Chagos Islands.

The sheer scale of suffering, let alone criminality, is little known in the west, despite the presence of the world's most advanced communications, nominally freest journalism and most admired academy. That the most numerous victims of terrorism - western terrorism - are Muslims is unsayable, if it is known. That half a million Iraqi infants died in the 1990s as a result of the embargo imposed by Britain and America is of no interest. That extreme jihadism, which led to the 11 September 2001 attacks, was nurtured as a weapon of western policy (in "Operation Cyclone") is known to specialists, but otherwise suppressed.

While popular culture in Britain and America immerses the Second World War in an ethical bath for the victors, the holocausts arising from Anglo-American dominance of resource-rich regions are consigned to oblivion. Under the Indonesian tyrant Suharto, anointed "our man" by Margaret Thatcher, more than a million people were slaughtered in what the CIA described as "the worst mass murder of the second half of the 20th century". This estimate does not include the third of the population of East Timor who were starved or murdered with western connivance, British fighter-bombers and machine-guns.

These true stories are told in declassified files in the Public Record Office, yet represent an entire dimension of politics and the exercise of power excluded from public consideration. This has been achieved by a regime of uncoercive information control, from the evangelical mantra of advertising to soundbites on BBC news and now the ephemera of social media.

It is as if writers as watchdogs are extinct, or in thrall to a sociopathic zeitgeist, convinced they are too clever to be duped. Witness the stampede of sycophants eager to deify Christopher Hitchens, a war lover who longed to be allowed to justify the crimes of rapacious power. "For almost the first time in two centuries," wrote Terry Eagleton, "there is no eminent British poet, playwright or novelist prepared to question the foundations of the western way of life." No Orwell warns that we do not need to live in a totalitarian society to be corrupted by totalitarianism. No Shelley speaks for the poor, no Blake proffers a vision, no Wilde reminds us that "disobedience, in the eyes of anyone who has read history, is man's original virtue". And grievously no Pinter rages at the war machine, as in "American Football":

Hallelujah.
Praise the Lord for all good things . . .
We blew their balls into shards of dust,
Into shards of fucking dust . . .

Into shards of fucking dust go all the lives blown there by Barack Obama, the Hopey Changey of western violence. Whenever one of Obama's drones wipes out an entire family in a faraway tribal region of Pakistan, or Somalia, or Yemen, the American controllers sitting in front of their computer-game screens type in "Bugsplat". Obama likes drones and has joked about them with journalists. One of his first actions as president was to order a wave of Pre­dator drone attacks on Pakistan that killed 74 people. He has since killed thousands, mostly civilians; drones fire Hellfire missiles that suck the air out of the lungs of children and leave body parts festooned across scrubland.

Remember the tear-stained headlines as Brand Obama was elected: "Momentous, spine-tingling" (the Guardian). "The American future," Simon Schama wrote, "is all vision, numinous, unformed, light-headed with anticipation." The San Francisco Chronicle saw a spiritual "Lightworker . . . who can . . . usher in a new way of being on the planet". Beyond the drivel, as the great whistleblower Daniel Ellsberg had predicted, a military coup was taking place in Washington, and Obama was their man. Having seduced the anti-war movement into virtual silence, he has given America's corrupt military officer class unprecedented powers of state and engagement. These include the prospect of wars in Africa and opportunities for provocations against China, America's largest creditor and the new "enemy" in Asia. Under Obama, the old source of official paranoia, Russia, has been encircled with ballistic missiles and the Russian opposition infiltrated. Military and CIA assassination teams have been assigned to 120 countries; long-planned attacks on Syria and Iran beckon a world war. Israel, the exemplar of US violence and lawlessness by proxy, has just received its annual pocket money of $3bn together with Obama's permission to steal more Palestinian land.

Surveillance state

Obama's most "historic" achievement is to bring the war on democracy home to America. On New Year's Eve, he signed the National Defence Authorisation Act, a law that grants the Pentagon the legal right to kidnap both foreigners and US citizens secretly and indefinitely detain, interrogate and torture, or even kill them. They need only "associate" with those "belligerent" to the US. There will be no protection of law, no trial, no legal representation. This is the first explicit legislation to abolish habeas corpus (the right to due process of law) and, in effect, repeal the Bill of Rights of 1789.

On 5 January, in an extraordinary speech at the Pentagon, Obama said the military would not only be ready to "secure territory and populations" overseas but to fight in the "homeland" and "support [the] civil authorities". In other words, US troops are to be deployed on the streets of American cities when the inev­itable civil unrest takes hold.

America is now a land of epidemic poverty and barbaric prisons - the consequence of a "market" extremism that, under Obama, has prompted the transfer of $14trn in public money to criminal enterprises in Wall Street. The victims are mostly young, jobless, homeless, incarcerated African Americans, betrayed by the first black president. The historic corollary of a perpetual war state, this is not fascism, not yet, but neither is it democracy in any recognisable form, regardless of the placebo politics that will consume the news until November. The presidential campaign, says the Washington Post, will feature "a clash of phil­osophies rooted in distinctly different views of the economy". This is patently false. The circumscribed task of journalism on both sides of the Atlantic is to create the pretence of political choice where there is none.

The same shadow is across Britain and much of Europe, where social democracy, an article of faith two generations ago, has fallen to the central bank dictators. In David Cameron's "big society", the theft of £84bn in jobs and services exceeds even the amount of tax "legally" avoided by piratical corporations. Blame rests not with the far right, but with a cowardly liberal political culture that has allowed this to happen and which, as Hywel Williams wrote following the 9/11 attacks, "can itself be a form of self-righteous fanaticism". Tony Blair is one such fanatic. In its managerial indifference to the freedoms that it claimed to hold dear, bourgeois Blairite Britain created a surveillance state with 3,000 new criminal offences and laws: more than for the whole of the previous century. The police clearly believe they have an impunity to kill. At the demand of the CIA, cases like that of Binyam Mohamed, an innocent British resident tortured and then held for five years in Guantanamo Bay, will be dealt with in secret courts in Britain in order to "protect the intelligence agencies" - the torturers.

This invisible state allowed the Blair government to fight the Chagos Islanders as they rose from their despair in exile and demanded justice in the streets of Port Louis and London. "Only when you take direct action, face to face, even break laws, are you ever noticed," Lisette said. "And the smaller you are, the greater your example to others." Such is the eloquent answer to those who still ask, "What can I do?"

I last saw Lisette's tiny figure standing in driving rain next to her comrades outside the Houses of Parliament. What struck me was the enduring courage of their resistance. It is this refusal to give up that rotten power fears, above all, knowing it is the seed beneath the snow.

John Pilger, renowned investigative journalist and documentary film-maker, is one of only two to have twice won British journalism's top award; his documentaries have won academy awards in both the UK and the US. In a New Statesman survey of the 50 heroes of our time, Pilger came fourth behind Aung San Suu Kyi and Nelson Mandela. "John Pilger," wrote Harold Pinter, "unearths, with steely attention facts, the filthy truth. I salute him."

This article first appeared in the 23 January 2012 issue of the New Statesman, Has the Arab Spring been hijacked?

GARY WATERS
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After Brexit, should the Eurozone pursue full political union?

Is full political union of the eurozone the only way to stop the disintegration of Europe after Brexit?

The chaotic scenes in the Conservative and Labour Parties, widespread expressions of “Bregret”, confusion about what the future relationship between the European Union and United Kingdom will or should be, discussion of a second EU referendum or a “Brexit election” – all give the impression that the vote was somehow an accident. It is true there was a strong element of contingency to the outcome, which some have called “an establishment cock-up”. When in January 2013 he needlessly promised the referendum, David Cameron did not foresee that Boris Johnson would oppose him or that he would lose it. He could not have foreseen that a Labour leader would fail to mobilise the left-wing vote, and fail probably intentionally. The result was also determined by the unexpectedly brutal nature of the campaign, with wild claims on both sides, though those of some Leavers were by far the most egregious.

It is time, however, for those who wanted the UK to remain in the EU at least for now, of whom I was one, to accept reality. Britain did not decide to leave the EU in a fit of pique or absence of mind. Its departure reflects the deeper pattern of British history in Europe over the past few hundred years. It would certainly have left the EU at a later date, if the EU had not collapsed first.

The relationship between Britain and Europe can be summed up in two simple geopolitical propositions. First, that the EU was designed to deal with the German problem and the European Question, or, if one prefers, the German Question and the European problem, for they are two sides of the same coin. Second, the EU was not designed to deal with the British problem. Nobody claimed after 1945 that the UK had been such a danger to European peace that it required a supranational structure to embed and contain it. Nor did anyone argue that the UK, unlike most of the rest of continental Europe, had been so weak in the face of a threat from others that it needed the protection of a supranational body.

Britain and mainland Europe have thus been on quite separate paths for a long time. The central geopolitical fact on the continent was German power or potential power: demographic, economic and military. In the period before German unification this led to a system of conditional sovereignty in central Europe, designed to prevent another state – usually France – from using its resources to achieve hegemony, and to stop the Germans from developing such ambitions for themselves. It was based on the diffusion, not concentration of power. Things changed after German unification in 1871, which eventually unbalanced the European and global system. With great difficulty, Germany was subdued and a system of conditional sovereignty was reimposed on central Europe, the difference being that this time it was to be extended to the whole western half of the continent, which was also in mortal peril from Soviet communism.

The European integration project was thus a project of “dual containment”, designed to “embed” Germany and deter ­Stalin. It was also a strategy of “dual mobilisation”, in that it sought to draw on the energies of not only the western Europeans but also the Germans to fight communism, and certainly to stop fighting each other. This supranational project was strongly supported by the Americans and by parts of the British establishment, including Winston Churchill. The vision of a complete political union has not been realised, but the European Union has embarked on important supranational projects such as the euro, the Schengen travel area and common foreign and security policies.

In Britain, things developed very differently. Europe was at all times critically important. The question of England’s relationship to the continent dominated policy and politics for hundreds of years, from France in the 15th century through to the Westminster crisis in both of Britain’s leading parties today, which is primarily the product of disagreements over Europe. The main strategic and ideological threats have come from Europe.

In the 16th and 17th centuries there was the threat to Protestantism and parliamentary liberties from Philip II and Louis XIV’s absolutism and from Counter-Reformation Catholicism. In the 19th century, there was the challenge of Napoleon, followed by the confrontation between British liberalism and tsarist autocracy. In the 20th century, Britain saw off Germany in the First World War, resisted Nazism in the Second World War, and made a substantial contribution to Western measures to deter the Soviet Union during the Cold War.

***

Like many European states, Britain responded to these challenges by pursuing a policy of maintaining the “balance of power” across the continent, through alliances and payment of subsidies, to ensure that no single actor would be able to threaten Europe’s security. In constitutional terms, however, the British response to the European problem was very different. Faced with the danger from Louis XIV during the War of the Spanish Succession, in which the long-standing enmity between England and Scotland threatened to undermine the war effort against a common foe, the two countries entered into a complete political union in 1707. The state debts were merged, there would henceforth be only one army and foreign policy, and the new polity would be anchored in a common parliamentary representation at Westminster. This link between debt, defence and what then passed for democracy proved to be so powerful that it served as the basis for the American union in the late 18th century.

On the continent, in short, Europe was the problem and the European Union was the solution. In Britain, Europe was also the problem, but the United Kingdom was the solution. For this reason, the British have never seen the need to sacrifice their sov­ereignty in a supranational project. They have therefore co-operated with Europe on a largely intergovernmental, and not a supranational, basis.

That said, the modern European order – understood as the totality of economic, political and military relationships – that developed after 1945 was primarily an ­Anglo-American order. It was built on the Allied victory during the Second World War, which enabled the re-establishment of democracy on the continent. It depended wholly on the protective carapace provided by Nato, in which the UK was the second most important actor after the US, and by far the most powerful European one.

Since 1973, the United Kingdom has been part of the European integration project, and even though the relationship has often been turbulent, the British contribution there has been substantial. London was the principal sponsor of the single market and eastward enlargement of the EU.

To be sure, the United Kingdom stayed aloof from the crucial European projects: the euro, Schengen and any planned European army. It did so on two very cogent grounds. First, because involvement would have been incompatible with the independence of the UK, hard won over history with blood and treasure. Here, the conditional sovereignty of continental Europe clashed with the absolute sovereignty of the Westminster parliament.

Second, because the British government believed quite rightly that these federal projects required a political union. It was not, however, opposed to such an arrangement on the continent. It is true that London has long tried to keep the political bonds to Europe loose enough to enable continued UK membership without losing her sovereignty. But more recently, in an abandonment of the long-held principle of the balance of power, Chancellor Osborne, recognising the need to keep the eurozone stable, constantly pressed for closer fiscal and political integration across that area.

This gives the lie to the idea that Britain has been blocking progress in Europe. This is a firmly entrenched view in Brussels, expressed vehemently by the president of the European Commission, Jean-Claude Juncker. It was also expressed hilariously in the popular 1980s television series Yes Minister when Sir Humphrey told the minister, James Hacker, that Britain had only joined the European Economic Community to make a “pig’s breakfast of it from the inside”. The sad truth is that the EU does not need British help to do this. The continental Europeans have shown in the euro crisis, which has nothing to do with London, and in many other disasters, that they are quite capable of making a pig’s breakfast of it for themselves, unaided.

The problem, in other words, is not the United Kingdom, but the long-term weakness of continental Europe, which Brexit has brought home in the most painful way, and aggravated. Without the euro and migration crises, there would never have been a majority for Leave a fortnight ago, though there would probably have been a separation further down the line. The peoples of Europe sense this and so do the elites. They all know that whereas Grexit would be a judgement on Greece, Brexit was a judgement on the EU.

***

Unfortunately, the hope that the shock of Brexit will provoke profound reform in the European Union is based on a misunderstanding of the nature of national governments represented in the European Council and among Brussels elites. They need help but, like alcoholics, they also need to realise the utter wretchedness of their condition before they ask for it. Continental Europe, unfortunately, has much further to fall before it can rise again. At the moment, it is still in denial.

That should not stop Washington and London from trying to persuade the European Union, or at least the eurozone, to achieve a full political union on the model of Anglo-America. This could be an asymmetric union of “core Europe”, in which Germany took on the role played by England in the United Kingdom. Alternatively, it could be a more symmetric, larger union of the entire eurozone along American lines. Only by linking debt, defence and democracy as pioneered in the United States will Europe be able to stabilise the currency, deter Russia and address the democratic deficit against which electorates are rebelling. The alternative is either continued chaos, or a return to the nation state and the untethering of Germany from the continental order.

Whatever the solution in mainland Europe, the future attitude of the UK to the EU will determine the survival of this union, after Brexit even more than before it.

In this context, we urgently need to know the Brexit mainstream’s attitude to the ­European project. Farage, who resigned on 4 July as the leader of the UK Independence Party, may be containable but the full force of a new Brexit government will be a very different proposition. Theresa May hasn’t said much yet but, as a soft Remainer, she is unlikely to seek confrontation with the EU. In recent days, the once sulphurous Boris Johnson has been more conciliatory, even saying that the EU “was a noble idea for its time”, but he is no longer a candidate for the Tory leadership. Since the referendum result, Michael Gove has spoken of his hope that “we can build a new, stronger and more positive relationship with our European neighbours, based on free trade and friendly co-operation”. He has also, however, expressed a desire that Brexit should spark a “democratic liberation” of the continent. Gove now needs to explain what that means. If he has a Farage-style return to the national states and currencies in mind, the EU will resist him tooth and nail, and rightly so, as the European project is still the continent’s last, best hope on Earth. If, however, he means the establishment of a full parliamentary union of the eurozone to provide democratic legitimation for its decisions, then he is pointing the way out of the crisis. Of all people in British politics, Gove, a Scot who believes passionately in the UK, is perhaps best placed to make the argument for a multinational political union of the continent (without Britain). Yet he is unlikely to get the chance to do so, trailing as he is behind May and Andrea Leadsom, a hard Brexiteer, in the leadership contest.

***

Against this background, the big geopolitical question will be whether the UK and the EU, former partners hopeful of separating amicably, eventually become enemies. Right now, the two sides are at the ready but not in combat. Much will depend on who fires first, or is perceived to have done so. In this heated ­atmosphere, even a political sneeze could set off a massacre.

It goes without saying that both sides will lose from a confrontation. Critical to avoiding that is an understanding of the actual balance of forces. These are much less unfavourable to the UK than Brussels hawks and many British pessimists imagine. The claim by the Dutch prime minister, Mark Rutte, that “England has collapsed, politically, monetarily, constitutionally and economically” is wide of the mark. It is true that London is dwarfed by the economic might of the eurozone and the rest of the EU, and that it faces a period of considerable short-to-medium-term economic pressure. It is also true that the UK faces grave threats to its integrity in Scotland and, to a certain extent, in Northern Ireland.

That said, once a new government is formed, a highly coherent actor – the United Kingdom – will be facing a fatally divided ­coalition, which is already showing cracks not merely between the Commission and the European Council, but within the Council itself. Moreover, once started, the struggle will be won not by those who can inflict the most, but by those who can endure the most. The UK has repeatedly demonstrated a capacity to defend her sovereignty against all comers. Her political fundamentals are strong. Mainland Europe, by contrast, has repeatedly demonstrated its propensity to fragment. Its political fundamentals (sadly) are weak.

The threat to the unity of the United Kingdom is greatly exaggerated. Wales remains fully committed, and voted Leave by a similar margin to England. In Northern Ireland the divisions are principally between the two faith communities, and only in the second instance between one of those communities and the British state. There is no chance whatsoever of the province leaving the UK.

It is true that in Scotland the vote for Brexit has created a material change of circumstances, entitling the Scottish National Party-led government to demand a fresh referendum on independence. That said, independence only ever made sense in the benign European environment before the 2008 crash, the onset of the migration crisis and the Russian threat. At that time, the Irish “tiger” economy served as a model. Since the euro crisis, this is no longer the case. Even as late as the failed 2014 referendum, there would still have been EU members on both sides of the border. Now all is utterly changed. If it left the UK now, Scotland would immediately have a “hard” border with England, the country with which it does most of its trade. It is currently a net beneficiary of the Union economically; it would lose that money with independence, but, as a rich state within the rest of the EU, it would be required to contribute more to Brussels. The oil price is low. A Scottish vote for independence would therefore pose a much greater risk than Brexit does to England and, indeed, to Scotland, if the Scots choose remain part of the UK. Given that Scotland joined the UK in order to guard against European dangers, how likely is she to throw in her lot with a European Union in possibly terminal crisis by leaving the most successful union project Europe has produced so far: the United Kingdom?

Moreover, once fully engaged against a hostile continent, the full apparatus of the Foreign Office would be turned to making a (bigger still) “pig’s breakfast” of the EU. It would find allies on the mainland, pouring salt into Europe’s self-inflicted wounds and inflicting new ones. London would revert to devising an old “balance of power” policy for the continent.

Besides, one should not assume that Britain will be sent, as President Barack Obama threatened, “to the back of the queue”; his administration has since rowed back rapidly on those threats. Britain may be more dependent on the single market than vice versa, but many sectors, such as Germany’s car manufacturing industry, would be destroyed by a trade war. The Irish government, which is obliged by EU law to erect a hard border with any non-member-state that is not part of Schengen, will feel sharper and quicker pain than the UK. Eastern European governments, which look to Britain as a bulwark against Russia, will want to bury the hatchet quickly. Spain has already indicated that it will block Scotland’s admission in order not to create a precedent for Catalonia. None of these states, which together make up a majority in the EU, is likely to pursue a prolonged vendetta against London. In short, though there is widespread dismay, sadness and anger at the British decision, it would be wrong to deduce from that a willingness to place a long-term bet on victory by the EU over the UK.

Naturally, with the exception of a few Brussels blowhards, there is hardly anybody in the EU who is insane enough to want to add a struggle with the UK to the Union’s many other problems, none of which has gone away, and all of which are likely to escalate. The worry is that, given its well-documented incompetence, the EU will “sleepwalk” into such a confrontation. This would turn the UK into a positive Russia on the western flank of Europe, destabilising it from the outside and sucking it dry of its most positive and dynamic elements, even more than the UK already does now. It does not have to be this way.

Today, almost everything is up in the air, most obviously in mainland Europe. The only fixed point we have is that the UK has reasserted its complete sovereignty by leaving the EU. Everything else will have to be ordered around that fact.

Brendan Simms’s latest book is “Britain’s Europe: a Thousand Years of Conflict and Co-operation” (Allen Lane)

This article first appeared in the 07 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit bunglers