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I’m a believer

In our increasingly secular society, many religious people feel their voices are not heard. So here,

After four centuries of breathtaking scientific progress, many wonder why intelligent people would still feel the need to believe in God. Andrew Zak Williams decided to find out. Over the course of several months, he corresponded with dozens of scientists and other public figures, quizzing them on the reasons for their faith. Here is a selection of the responses.

Cherie Blair, barrister
It's been a journey from my upbringing to an understanding of something that my head cannot explain but my heart knows to be true.

Jeremy Vine, broadcaster
There is a subjective reason and an objective reason. The subjective reason is that I find consolation in my faith. The objective reason is that the story of the gospels has stood the test of time and Christ comes across as a totally captivating figure.

In moments of weariness or cynicism, I tell myself I only believe because my parents did; and the Christian faith poses more questions than it answers.

But I still return to believing, as if that is more natural than not doing so.

Richard Swinburne, emeritus professor of philosophy, University of Oxford
To suppose that there is a God explains why there is a physical universe at all; why there are the scientific laws there are; why animals and then human beings have evolved; why human beings have the opportunity to mould their character and those of their fellow humans for good or ill and to change the environment in which we live; why we have the well-authenticated account of Christ's life, death and resurrection; why throughout the centuries millions of people (other than ourselves) have had the apparent experience of being in touch with and guided by God; and so much else.
In fact, the hypothesis of the existence of God makes sense of the whole of our experience and it does so better than any other explanation that can be put forward, and that is the grounds for believing it to be true.

Peter Hitchens, journalist
I believe in God because I choose to do so. I believe in the Christian faith because I prefer to do so. The existence of God offers an explanation of many of the mysteries of the universe - es­pecially "Why is there something rather than nothing?" and the questions which follow from that. It requires our lives to have a purpose, and our actions to be measurable against a higher standard than their immediate, observable effect. Having chosen belief in a God over unbelief, I find the Christian gospels more per­suasive and the Christian moral system more powerful than any other religious belief.

I was, it is true, brought up as a Christian, but ceased to be one for many years. When I returned to belief I could have chosen any, but did not.

Jonathan Aitken, former politician
I believe in God because I have searched for Him and found Him in the crucible of brokenness. Some years ago I went through an all-too-well-publicised drama of defeat, disgrace, divorce, bankruptcy and jail. In the course of that saga I discovered a loving God who answers prayers, forgives and redeems.

James Jones, Bishop of Liverpool
One word: Jesus. All that you imagine God would be, He is. His life and His love are compelling, His wisdom convincing.

Richard Chartres, Bishop of London
I believe in God because He has both revealed and hidden Himself in so many different ways: in the created world, the Holy Bible, the man Jesus Christ; in the Church and men and women of God through the ages; in human relationships, in culture and beauty, life and death, pain and suffering; in immortal longings, in my faltering prayers and relationship with Him. There is nothing conclusive to force me into believing, but everything sug­gestive, and constantly drawing me on into the love of Christ and to "cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt".

David Alton, Lib Dem peer
The notion that humanity and the cosmos are an accident has always seemed implausible. A world littered with examples of complex genius - from developments in quantum theory to regenerative medicine - points us towards genius more perfect and more unfathomable than ourselves. The powerful combination of faith and reason led me as a child to believe in God.

Unsurprisingly, as I matured into manhood, that belief has not been immune against the usual catalogue of failure, sadness and grief; and belief has certainly not camouflaged the horrors of situations I have seen first hand in places such as Congo and Sudan. Paradoxically, it has been where suffering has been most acute that I have also seen the greatest faith.

By contrast, the more we own or have, the more difficulty we seem to have in seeing and encountering the Divine.

Professor Stephen R L Clark, philosopher
I believe in God because the alternatives are worse. Not believing in God would mean that we have no good reason to think that creatures such as us human beings (accidentally generated in a world without any overall purpose) have any capacity - still less any duty - to discover what the world is like.

Denying that "God exists" while still maintaining a belief in the power of reason is, in my view, ridiculous.My belief is that we need to add both that God is at least possibly incarnate among us, and that the better description of God (with all possible caveats about the difficulty of speaking about the infinite source of all being and value) is as something like a society. In other words, the Christian doctrine of the incarnation, and of the trinity, have the philosophical edge. And once those doctrines are included, it is possible to see that other parts of that tradition are important.

Nick Spencer, director of Theos, the public theology think tank
I would say I find Christianity (rather than just belief in God) the most intellectually and emotionally satisfying explanation for being.

Stephen Green, director of the fundamentalist pressure group Christian Voice
I came to faith in God through seeing the ducks on a pond in People's Park, Grimsby. It struck me that they were all doing a similar job, but had different plumage. Why was that? Why did the coot have a white beak and the moorhen a red one? Being a hard-nosed engineer, I needed an explanation that worked and the evolutionary model seemed too far-fetched and needful of too much faith!

I mean, what could possibly be the evolutionary purpose of the bars on the hen mallard's wings, which can only be seen when she flies? Or the tuft on the head of the tufted duck?

So I was drawn logically to see them as designed like that. I suppose I believed in an intelligent designer long before the idea became fashionable. So, that left me as a sort of a deist. But God gradually became more personal to me and I was drawn against all my adolescent atheist beliefs deeper and deeper into faith in Jesus Christ.

Douglas Hedley, reader in metaphysics, Clare College, Cambridge
Do values such as truth, beauty and goodness emerge out of a contingent and meaningless substrate? Or do these values reflect a transcendent domain from which this world has emerged? I incline to the latter, and this is a major reason for my belief in God.

Paul Davies, quantum physicist
I am not comfortable answering the question "Why do you believe in God?" because you haven't defined "God". In any case, as a scientist,
I prefer not to deal in "belief" but rather in the usefulness of concepts. I am sure I don't believe in any sort of god with which most readers of your article would identify.

I do, however, assume (along with all scientists) that there is a rational and intelligible scheme of things that we uncover through scientific investigation. I am uncomfortable even being linked with "a god" because of the vast baggage that this term implies (a being with a mind, able to act on matter within time, making decisions, etc).

Professor Derek Burke, biochemist and former president of Christians in Science
There are several reasons why I believe in God. First of all, as a scientist who has been privileged to live in a time of amazing scientific discoveries (I received my PhD in 1953, the year Watson and Crick discovered the structure of DNA), I have been overwhelmed by wonder at the order and intricacy of the world around us. It is like peeling skins off an onion: every time you peel off a layer, there is another one underneath, equally marvellously intricate. Surely this could not have arisen by chance? Then my belief is strengthened by reading the New Testament especially, with the accounts of that amazing person, Jesus, His teaching, His compassion, His analysis of the human condition, but above all by His resurrection. Third, I'm deeply impressed by the many Christians whom I have met who have lived often difficult lives with compassion and love. They are an inspiration to me.

Peter J Bussey, particle physicist
God is the ultimate explanation, and this includes the explanation for the existence of physical reality, for laws of nature and everything. Let me at this point deal with a commonly encountered "problem" with the existence of God, one that Richard Dawkins and others have employed.
It goes that if God is the ultimate cause or the ultimate explanation, what then is the cause of God, or the explanation for God? My reply
is that, even in our own world, it is improper to repeat the same investigatory question an indefinite number of times. For example, we ask, "Who designed St Paul's Cathedral?" and receive the reply: "Sir Christopher Wren." But, "No help whatever," objects the sceptic, "because, in that case, who then designed Sir Christopher Wren?" To this, our response will now be that it is an inappropriate question and anyone except a Martian would know that. Different questions will be relevant now.

So, likewise, it is very unlikely that we know the appropriate questions, if any, to ask about God, who is presumably outside time, and is the source of the selfsame rationality that we presume to employ to understand the universe and to frame questions about God.
What should perhaps be underlined is that, in the absence of total proof, belief in God will be to some extent a matter of choice.

Reverend Professor Michael Reiss, bioethicist and Anglican priest
At the age of 18 or 19, a religious way of understanding the world began increasingly to make sense. It did not involve in any way abandoning the scientific way. If you like, it's a larger way of understanding our relationship with the rest of the world, our position in nature and all those standard questions to do with why we are here, if there is life after death, and so on. That was reinforced by good teaching, prayer and regular reading of scripture.

Peter Richmond, theoretical physicist
Today most people reject the supernatural but there can be no doubt that the teachings of Jesus are still relevant. And here I would differentiate these from some of the preaching of authoritarian churches, which has no doubt been the source of much that could be considered to be evil over the years. Even today, we see conflict in places such as Africa or the Middle East - killings made in the name of religion, for example. As Christians, we recognise these for what they are - evil acts perpetrated by the misguided. At a more domestic level, the marginalisation of women in the Church is another example that should be exposed for what it is: sheer prejudice by the present incumbents of the Church hierarchy. But as Christians, we can choose to make our case to change things as we try to follow the social teachings of Jesus. Compared to pagan idols, Jesus offered hope, comfort and inspiration, values that are as relevant today as they were 2,000 years ago.

David Myers, professor of psychology, Hope College, Michigan
[Our] spirituality, rooted in the developing biblical wisdom and in a faith tradition that crosses the centuries, helps make sense of the universe, gives meaning to life, opens us to the transcendent, connects us in supportive communities, provides a mandate for morality and selflessness and offers hope in the face of adversity and death.

Kenneth Miller, professor of biology, Brown University
I regard scientific rationality as the key to understanding the material basis of our existence as well as our history as a species. That's the reason why I have fought so hard against the "creationists" and those who advocate "intelligent design". They deny science and oppose scientific rationality, and I regard their ideas as a threat to a society such as ours that has been so hospitable to the scientific enterprise.

There are, however, certain questions that science cannot answer - not because we haven't figured them out yet (there are lots of those), but because they are not scientific questions at all. As the Greek philosophers used to ask, what is the good life? What is the nature of good and evil? What is the purpose to existence? My friend Richard Dawkins would ask, in response, why we should think that such questions are even important. But to most of us, I would respond, these are the most important questions of all.

What I can tell you is that the world I see, including the world I know about from science, makes more sense to me in the light of a spiritual understanding of existence and the hypo­thesis of God. Specifically, I see a moral polarity to life, a sense that "good" and "evil" are actual qualities, not social constructions, and that choosing the good life (as the Greeks meant it) is the central question of existence. Given that, the hypothesis of God conforms to what I know about the material world from science and gives that world a depth of meaning that I would find impossible without it.

Now, I certainly do not "know" that the spirit is real in the sense that you and I can agree on the evidence that DNA is real and that it is the chemical basis of genetic information. There is, after all, a reason religious belief is called "faith", and not "certainty". But it is a faith that fits, a faith that is congruent with science, and even provides a reason why science works and is of such value - because science explores that rationality of existence, a rationality that itself derives from the source of that existence.

In any case, I am happy to confess that I am a believer, and that for me, the Christian faith is the one that resonates. What I do not claim is that my religious belief, or anyone's, can meet a scientific test.

Nick Brewin, molecular biologist
A crucial component of the question depends on the definition of "God". As a scientist, the "God" that I believe in is not the same God(s) that I used to believe in. It is not the same God that my wife believes in; nor is it the same God that my six-year-old granddaughter believes in; nor is it the God that my brain-damaged and physically disabled brother believes in. Each person has their own concept of what gives value and purpose to their life. This concept of "God" is based on a combination of direct and indirect experience.

Humankind has become Godlike, in the sense that it has acquired the power to store and manipulate information. Language, books, computers and DNA genomics provide just a few illustrations of the amazing range of technologies at our fingertips. Was this all merely chance? Or should we try to make sense of the signs and wonders that are embedded in a "revealed religion"?

Perhaps by returning to the "faith" position of children or disabled adults, scientists can extend their own appreciation of the value and purpose of individual human existence. Science and religion are mutually complementary.

Hugh Ross, astrophysicist and astronomer
Astronomy fascinates me. I started serious study of the universe when I was seven. By the age of 16, I could see that Big Bang cosmology offered the best explanation for the history of the universe, and because the Big Bang implies a cosmic beginning, it would require a cosmic beginner. It seemed reasonable that a creator of such awesome capacities would speak clearly and consistently if He spoke at all. So I spent two years perusing the holy books of the world's religions to test for these characteristics. I found only one such book. The Bible stood apart: not only did it provide hundreds of "fact" statements that could be tested for accuracy, it also anticipated - thousands of years in advance - what scientists would later discover, such as the fundamental features of Big Bang cosmology.

My observation that the Bible's multiple creation narratives accurately describe hundreds of details discovered much later, and that it consistently places them in the scientifically correct sequence, convinced me all the more that the Bible must be the supernaturally inspired word of God. Discoveries in astronomy first alerted me to the existence of God, and to this day the Bible's power to anticipate scientific discoveries and predict sociopolitical events ranks as a major reason for my belief in the God of the Bible. Despite my secular upbringing, I cannot ignore the compelling evidence emerging from research into the origin of the universe, the anthropic principle, the origin of life and the origin of humanity. Theaccumulating evidence continues to point compellingly towards the God of the Bible.

Steve Fuller, philosopher/professor of sociology, University of Warwick
I am a product of a Jesuit education (before university), and my formal academic training is in history and philosophy of science, which is the field credited with showing the tight links between science and religion. While I have never been an avid churchgoer, I am strongly moved by the liberatory vision of Jesus promoted by left-wing Christians.

I take seriously the idea that we are created in the image and likeness of God, and that we may come to exercise the sorts of powers that are associated with divinity. In this regard, I am sympathetic to the dissenting, anticlerical schools of Christianity - especially Unitarianism, deism and transcendentalism, idealism and humanism. I believe that it is this general position that has informed the progressive scientific spirit.

People such as Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens like to think of themselves as promoting a progressive view of humanity, but I really do not see how Darwinism allows that at all, given its species-egalitarian view of nature (that is, humans are just one more species - no more privileged than the rest of them). As I see it, the New Atheists live a schizoid existence, where they clearly want to privilege humanity but have no metaphysical basis for doing so.

Michael J Behe, scientific advocate of intelligent design
Two primary reasons: 1) that anything exists; and 2) that we human beings can comprehend and reason. I think both of those point to God.

Denis Alexander, director, Faraday Institute for Science and Religion, Cambridge
I believe in the existence of a personal God. Viewing the universe as a creation renders it more coherent than viewing its existence as without cause. It is the intelligibility of the world that requires explanation.

Second, I am intellectually persuaded by the historical life, teaching, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, that He is indeed the
Son of God. Jesus is most readily explicable by understanding Him as the Son of God. Third, having been a Christian for more than five decades, I have experienced God through Christ over this period in worship, answered prayer and through His love. These experiences are more coherent based on the assumption that God does exist.

Mike Hulme, professor of climate change, University of East Anglia
There are many reasons - lines of evidence, if you will - all of which weave together to point me in a certain direction (much as a scientist or a jury might do before reaching a considered judgement), which we call a belief.

[I believe] because there is non-trivial historical evidence that a person called Jesus of Naza­reth rose from the dead 2,000 years ago, and
it just so happens that He predicted that He would . . . I believe because of the testimony of billions of believers, just a few of whom are known to me and in whom I trust (and hence trust their testimony).

I believe because of my ineradicable sense that certain things I see and hear about in the world warrant the non-arbitrary categories of "good" or "evil". I believe because I have not discovered a better explanation of beauty, truth and love than that they emerge in a world created - willed into being - by a God who personifies beauty, truth and love.

Andrew Zak Williams has written for the Humanist and Skeptic. His email address is: andrewbelief@gmail.com

This article first appeared in the 18 April 2011 issue of the New Statesman, GOD Special

ALEX WILLIAMSON FOR NEW STATESMAN
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From antipasto to zoo, the A to Z of Brexit

We run through the Brexit alphabet.

As for anti-pasto


Is there any greater sign that austerity is not yet over than Boris Johnson getting the maximum value out of each of his jokes? In an interview with the Sun in September 2016, the Foreign Secretary suggested that Britain could control immigration as well as continue to trade freely with the EU in the following terms: “Our policy is having our cake and eating it. We are Pro-secco but by no means anti-pasto.” Very droll. Just as droll as the first time he rolled out the gag, in a July 2008 Telegraph column where he defended his decision to go on holiday abroad by noting that Tony Blair once spent a break “in the Tuscan palazzo of Count Girolamo Strozzi where he forged one of New Labour’s few hard-edged ideological positions: he was pro-sciutto and anti-pasto”. Stop it, Boris! This recycling is pasta joke. If you carry on, Liam Fox will want a pizza the action. Or you’ll be moved to the Minestrone of Defence. [Please, please stop – Ed.]

B is for big blue passports


Last year’s vote to leave the EU was a long time coming for the Tory awkward squad. Now that they’ve won, what exactly do they want? Turns out it’s much simpler than trade deals and migration quotas: just give us back our blue passports! As with most of the Brexit debate, it’s a cause that will be lost on most people under 50 – but, for the Sun and nostalgic headbangers such as the backbencher Andrew Rosindell, replacing the burgundy booklets used since 1988 is the only cause in town. “It’s a matter of identity. Having the pink European passports has been a humiliation,” Rosindell, the MP for Romford and a Proper Bloke who’d never otherwise touch anything “pink” unless he could help it, told the Sun in August. Ministers have since pledged to review the post-Brexit passport design – proof, if any more were needed, that this government serves only the whims of our weirdest MPs.


C is for civil servants


Those poor souls in Whitehall must be missing the days when all they had to fear was the press being nasty about how many biscuits they were eating on the taxpayer’s purse. Now it looks like there won’t be any time for biscuit breaks. The former civil service head and kindly veteran mandarin Bob Kerslake warned Theresa May at the end of last year that Whitehall does not have the capacity to deal with Brexit. “It’s not possible to do that at a point when the civil service is at its lowest numbers since the Second World War and continuing to fall,” he said in November. The Prime Minister shrugged off his concerns. Now disillusioned senior civil servants are planning to go the same way as Ivan Rogers, the EU ambassador who resigned in fury in January. Still, the money’s good: the top trade negotiator will earn £160,000 – more than the Prime Minister.

 

D is for David Davis


It’s little surprise that the Brexit Secretary, David Davis – having run for the Conservative Party leadership twice, represented two constituencies, and been politically active since he was a student in the 1970s – approaches politics with maturity and nuance. Nowhere was his great experience displayed with more finesse than when he reportedly swooped in for an unwanted embrace with Diane Abbott in the Commons bar after the shadow home secretary voted through Article 50 (out of loyalty to her party leader and against her conscience). “I am not blind,” he texted a friend, when asked if this was true. He eventually apologised, and went back to antagonising European politicians instead.

 

E is for Eighth, Henry the

 

Brexit wouldn’t mean Brexit without the resurgence of archaic English legislation and an unelected autocrat inflicting havoc on a divided nation. So Theresa May’s attempt to use 500-year-old powers known as “Henry VIII clauses” to convert EU directives into UK law is pretty unsurprising. As the government website explains, these are provisions added to a bill which enable “primary legislation to be amended or repealed by subordinate legislation with or without further parliamentary scrutiny”. The mechanism, established by the testy Tudor in 1539 to make law by proclamation, could help the PM repeal individual bits of EU legislation without full scrutiny by MPs – to parliament’s outrage. But perhaps it’s for the best. Henry VIII was an expert in divorce, after all.

 

F is for FIFTY (50), article


Oh, Article 50. Who thought that such a small clause could cause such a big fuss? It’s the little bit of the Lisbon Treaty no one thought would ever be relevant – the part that tells member states how to leave the European Union. Not to be spoken of without first using the verb “to trigger”, and not to be confused with its hipster younger sibling Article 49 (the part of the treaty which explains how to join, rather than leave, clung on to by wistful Remainers), Article 50 simply lays out how difficult it will be for any member state that uses it, allowing only two years of negotiating time after notification.

In the end, Article 50 was invoked on 29 March by handing over a letter in public to the European Council president, Donald Tusk, despite dire warnings by the Telegraph, which claimed it would be “hand-delivered at [a] secret time and location amid fears of sabotage by Remainers”. So Peter Mandelson forbore to rugby-tackle the British ambassador on his way to submit the letter, and Tusk decided it wouldn’t be funny, after all, to turn off the lights and pretend he was out.

 

G is for Goldman Sachs


Suddenly, progressives are sad to see the notorious investment bank Goldman Sachs taking its custom elsewhere – or some of it, anyway. It has confirmed that “hundreds” of its employees will be moved out of London and it will base its decision on its future dealings with the UK on the nature of the Brexit deal reached.

 

H is for horses


The Commons Northern Ireland select committee is at the sharp end of the complexities of leaving the EU. In February, Michael Lux, the former head of the European Commission’s customs procedures unit, stunned the committee by casually mentioning that with the UK leaving the customs union, a dog or a horse wandering across the land border with Ireland would need a customs form. After gasps from the committee, the independent unionist MP Sylvia Hermon replied: “I cannot imagine a form has to be filled out when a dog runs from the Republic of Ireland to Northern Ireland. This is just unenforceable.” Let’s hope not.

 

I is for Iraq

 

As promised, Kenneth Clarke was the only Conservative MP to vote against triggering Article 50. He told the Times the atmosphere reminded him of the Iraq War: “That was the last time I stuck my neck out in supporting a really unpopular cause – 70 per cent of the British public were in favour of the invasion and most of the Conservative Party was in a patriotic fury. Within 12 months, you couldn’t meet a member of the public who had ever known anybody who was in favour of it.”

 

J is for Juncker

 

“Arch-federalist” is just about as villainous as one can be made to sound in the context of EU bureaucracy, and Jean-Claude Juncker is the man most often described as such by his Eurosceptic enemies. (He also once said that power was erotic, although he now finds it less so: “Why are you in love with a person? The day you know means that you have stopped being in love,” he mused to the FT in March.)

The European Commission president described Brexit as “a failure and a tragedy” and is riling Brexiteers by insisting that the UK settle its bill with Brussels before embarking on trade negotiations. Although the Luxembourger is reassuring Britain that this “isn’t a punishment”, the “very salty” fee could be as high as €60bn. Somebody pass Bill Cash the smelling salts.

 

K is for Keir (Starmer)


Oh, Keir. Things could have been so different. Running for parliament in 2015, the former director of public prosecutions might have hoped for a safe seat and plum job in Ed Miliband’s cabinet. Now, however, he’s one of the few adults left around the shadow cabinet table and an unhappy poster boy for Labour’s hopeless Brexit bind. With all the verve of a man rehearsing his own eulogy, he told the Commons of the Article 50 bill in January: “It is a very difficult bill for the Labour Party.” And so, despite Sir Keir’s lawyerly turns at the despatch box, it was. Although his competent performances and forensic scrutiny have given Labour hope, his stated ambition – for Labour to “speak not for the 52 Per Cent or 48 Per Cent but the 100 Per Cent” – is looking less achievable by the day.

 

L is for lords getting feisty


Perhaps there is something in the idea that Britain has a fundamentally different culture from its European counterparts. It must be the only country where progressive values are most vehemently defended by an unelected chamber, including hereditary chieftains. Yes, those freedom fighters in mink are the only ones to have provided any meaningful opposition to hard Brexit in parliament, sending the Article 50 bill back to the Commons to urge protection of EU migrant rights and a “meaningful” parliamentary vote on the final deal. They capitulated in the end and the bill passed – but let’s hope they make some more mischief with the Great Repeal Bill.

 

M for “My Maggie”

 

As Britain prepares to sever ties with a trading bloc of 500 million people just 21 miles from its shores, our government understandably needs to look around for new opportunities. And so Theresa May was on a plane to Washington to meet the new US president faster than you could say, “Grab them by the what?” May declined to raise Donald Trump’s history of sexist comments at their meeting, but she did wring a (sort of) guarantee out of him to remain committed to Nato. In any case, she charmed him more than Angela Merkel, who visited in March – not only did Trump not hold the German chancellor’s hand, he even refused to shake it for a photo-op in the Oval Office. To the delight of Tory Brexiteers, May and Trump appeared to get on well, with the president recalling the relationship between Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher. Prime Minister May, he is said to have told his aides, is “my Maggie”. (Let’s be honest, she probably doesn’t call him “my Ronnie”.) Trump also returned a bust of Winston Churchill to the Oval Office, an act that brought a couple of right-wing lobby journalists close to shedding tears of patriotic joy.

 

N is for Nazis

 

It wouldn’t be a proper political event without someone making an inappropriate reference to Nazis, and our politicians haven’t disappointed this year. Ever the diplomat, Boris Johnson accused the French president, François Hollande, of wishing to “administer punishment beatings to anybody who seeks to escape [the EU], in the manner of some World War Two movie”. If he wishes to make comparisons to a propaganda-driven insurgency based on scapegoating minority groups, Johnson needn’t look back so far in the past . . .

 

O is for Osborne


The former chancellor George Osborne is enjoying winding up his old cabinet rival Theresa May from the back benches, warning that Brexit will be a “bitter” divorce and accusing the government of choosing “not to make the economy
the priority”. However, this is just another part-time occupation in an increasingly cluttered CV. George “Six Jobs” Osborne is advising the investment firm BlackRock, fulfilling private speaking engagements, working as a McCain Institute fellow, chairing the Northern Powerhouse Partnership, representing the constituents of Tatton (sometimes), and now the editor of the London Evening Standard.

Good for him! Finally, he is delivering on the promise he made at the Treasury of “full employment”.

 

P is for the press

 

The Brexit-supporting press has responded to recent events with the calmness and classiness for which it is famed. The Sun beamed “Dover and out” on to the White Cliffs to celebrate Article 50 being invoked. The Mail wrote “FREEDOM!” in 9,000-point capital letters on its front page (under a headline about Nicola Sturgeon’s and Theresa May’s “Legs-it”). And the Telegraph celebrated a bonfire of red tape that will lead to Britain getting back the ability to use energy-inefficient light bulbs and slaughter insufficiently endangered newts. Suddenly, all the pain seems worthwhile.

 

Q is for queen


“QUEEN BACKS BREXIT” shouted the front page of the Sun three months before the EU referendum. Inevitably. Buckingham Palace swiftly complained about it to the press watchdog. The Sun stood by its story, which consisted of a source relaying Eurosceptic remarks made by the Queen during a lunch at Windsor Castle in 2011. Nick Clegg, said to have attended this lunch, called the story “nonsense”. But the tabloid – ever tenacious in pursuit of dubious news values – ran a similar front page on the eve of the vote: “What Queen asked dinner guests: GIVE ME THREE GOOD REASONS TO STAY IN EUROPE”. The next day, the country gave her its answer.

 

R is for red, white and blue Brexit

 

Suggesting Brexit is nothing more than government by tea towel, Theresa May sent a shudder through the nation in December by describing her chief goal as a “red, white and blue Brexit”. This was in response to commentators characterising the middle ground between a hard and a soft departure as “grey Brexit”. Presumably, given the racial overtones of some of the Leave campaigning, she didn’t want the idea of a “white Brexit” to gain currency.

 

S is for Scotland

 

“Now is not the time” was Theresa May’s response to the Scottish First Minister Nicola Sturgeon’s demand for a second independence referendum, in the light of Scotland voting Remain. The Prime Minister believes Scottish voters should have full knowledge of the Brexit deal before going to the polls again. Which is kind of an argument for a second EU referendum on the final terms, but shhhh. During the campaign, top Brexiteers queued up to dismiss the prospect of Scottish independence returning to the table. Nigel Farage called the idea “moonshine”; David Davis said it would happen “under no circumstances”; the Labour Leaver Kate Hoey described it as a “wonderful red herring”; and the failed Tory leadership candidate Michael Gove said there was “no prospect” of it.

 

T is for Singapore model, the


The idea of copying Singapore’s low-tax, low-regulation economic model has long been popular with the kind of Brexiteer who would willingly read Ayn Rand. But has that country provided the blueprint for Brexit Britain? Jeremy Corbyn seems to think so, as he has been trying to get the rest of us to call it “Bargain-Basement Brexit”. And in her Lancaster House speech in January, Theresa May warned the EU27 that the UK would impose “the competitive tax rates and the policies that would attract the world’s best companies and biggest investors” if they offered the UK a bad deal. Is there a catch? Er, yes: the UK’s corporation tax rate is already low in European terms. And in truth, Singapore’s dirigiste technocratic government would give Douglas Carswell nightmares. Oh, and a quarter of its population are immigrants.

 

U is for Unexpectedly welcome

 

Over the past few months, left-wing Remainers have started to experience an unusual, creeping sensation. Is it . . . are they . . . could it be that they are happy to see Tony Blair? This disconcerting feeling has been helped by the Blessed Toblerone’s decision to give up some of his more whiffy lucrative side hustles (he is also doing up most of his shirt buttons again). In the absence of other strong pro-European voices, Blair has returned to the fray, making the case for liberal internationalism and arguing that the public should have the chance to change its mind on Brexit once it knows the final deal. Stop sounding so reasonable, Tony. It’s unnerving.

 

V is for Verhofstadt


“Get thee behind me, Satan,” was David Davis’s message to Guy Verhofstadt, the European Parliament’s gap-toothed chief negotiator, in evidence to the Commons foreign affairs select committee in September. The former Belgian prime minister was all too happy not to oblige – and became a leading player in the pre-divorce phoney war. His contributions to the debate, such as suggesting “associate citizenship” of the EU for disenfranchised Britons post-Brexit, have been catnip for the 48 Per Cent. Equally unhelpful has been his suggestion that an independent Scotland would have no problem retaining EU membership. No wonder Nigel Farage called his appointment a “declaration of war”.

 

W is for WTO terms

 

Hardly anyone knows what it means, but nevertheless “WTO terms” is a magical phrase suddenly being used by everybody on all sides of the Brexit debate to shut opponents up. Basically, if the UK doesn’t strike a trade deal with the EU, then it will trade according to World Trade Organisation rules, which would bring in tariffs or other trade barriers for some of our exports of products and services to EU countries, and vice versa.

 

X is for x-iting the EU


The Department for Exiting the EU, set up by Theresa May after the 23 June referendum, is not Whitehall’s most popular hangout. Civil servants in other departments are frustrated by its existence, as Brexit has repercussions for every policy brief. Some of the ministry’s officials have been characterised as “school bullies”, barging in to take control of everything. Perhaps, like No 10, the Foreign Office and Treasury, it could enhance its reputation with a cat, which could be called DExMew.

 

Y is for yacht

Leavers are ever keen to talk up Britain’s future as a buccaneering trading nation – and some are taking it nauseatingly literally. Up to 100 Conservative MPs are backing a Daily Telegraph campaign to spend £120m on a shiny new replacement for the Royal Yacht Britannia, decommissioned by Tony Blair in a fit of Europhile pique in 1997. They believe a new yacht – but not, say, a decent trade deal – is the key to the renewed success of Global Britain’s export sector. And as if this weren’t the perfect imperial nostalgia trip, the MPs Gerald Howarth and Jake Berry have suggested slashing the international aid budget to pay for it. The international trade minister Mark Garnier has warned them off that idea but encouraged them to formulate a business plan. “No one is trying to stop you bringing one forward,” he said. Can somebody please try?

 

Z is for Zoos


No, we didn’t just need a Z entry. About 80 per cent of our animal welfare law originates from the EU, which is praised as an animal-friendly area – compared to, say, the US and China, which have far less regulation. On Britain leaving the EU, our legislation on animal welfare will be up in the air. The only certainty will be mandatory pet British bulldogs for every household. What could be more patriotic? 

This article first appeared in the 06 April 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Spring Double Issue

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