We are on our way to a very dark place

I don’t agree with you, so I’ll see you in court.

Alternatively, I don’t agree with you so I’m going to expel you.

If your name is either Boris Johnson or Alastair Campbell, you’ll recognise the sentiments, because this week both have been on the receiving end of what I suppose we could call (if we must) political justicisation.

What it means – and yes, I did just make it up, so I hope you’ll forgive me – is converting a disagreement over politics into a case to be resolved judicially. In Johnson’s case, by bringing a case against him over his claim during the EU referendum campaign that the UK sends £350 million a week to the European Union. And in Campbell’s case by expelling him from the Labour party because he admitted – after the event – to having voted for the Lib Dems in last week’s European parliament elections.

It is an unhealthy trend and it leads, eventually, to a very dark place. Countries in which you are sanctioned for your political views are the very opposite of democracies, and the UK should be steering well clear.

One of the many reasons why the Brexit debate is doing so much damage to British political life is that it is dangerously coarsening the language of disagreement. Take a formerly respected figure like Andrew Adonis, whose CV includes a spell as an academic at Oxford university, a journalist on the Financial Times, head of the policy unit at 10 Downing Street under Tony Blair, and then transport secretary under Gordon Brown.

Now, he has become so unhinged by Brexit that he has suggested, apparently in all seriousness, that the BBC should be ‘in the dock’ together with Boris Johnson because it dared to report his referendum campaign claims.

Did Boris Johnson lie about how much the UK pays to the EU each week? Yes, he did. Should that render him liable to prosecution? No. Should the BBC be prosecuted for having reported what he said? Of course not.

In the words of the historian Robert Saunders, of Queen Mary University, London: ‘The court in which Boris Johnson should be found guilty is the court of public opinion. The sentence should be that he is voted out of his seat.’

The essence of democracy is the free exchange of ideas. According to Article 10 of the Human Rights Act: ‘Everyone has the right to freedom of expression. This right shall include freedom to hold opinions and to receive and impart information and ideas without interference by public authority.’

(The main exceptions are for the protection of national security, territorial integrity or public safety, the prevention of disorder or crime, the protection of health or morals, and the protection of the reputation or rights of others.)

It is not against the law to lie. It is, however, against the law to incite violence or racial hatred. It shouldn’t be too difficult to tell the difference – so much as I dislike what Boris Johnson stands for, I very much hope that the absurd private prosecution that has been brought against him will soon run into the judicial sands, never to resurface.

The Alastair Campbell case is different, but the principle is the same: in a democracy, no one should be sanctioned because their politics are not the same as yours.

Yes, the Labour party rulebook says (Chapter 2, Clause 1.4B): ‘A member of the party who … supports any candidate who stands against an official Labour candidate … shall automatically be ineligible to be or remain a party member.’

Tell that to the thousands of Labour party members who campaigned – and voted – for Ken Livingstone when he was running to be mayor of London in 2000 against the official Labour party candidate, Frank Dobson. None of them was expelled.

Or tell the backbench Labour MP who in 2012 congratulated George Galloway, then of the Respect party, for having beaten the Labour candidate in the Bradford West by-election. (The MP’s name, by the way, was Jeremy Corbyn. He wasn’t expelled either.)

According to the polling organisation YouGov, more than forty per cent of Labour party members voted for another party last week, lending their support more or less equally to the Greens and the Lib Dems. About ten per cent of them said they didn't vote at all, which leaves something like 185,000 who, if you really want to enforce the letter of the rulebook, should now be thrown out. 

No wonder the shadow attorney general Shami Chakrabarti now says that the decision to expel Alastair Campbell should be reviewed. Speaking to the BBC, she said: ‘Merely voting for another party is not in itself a grounds for exclusion or expulsion or anything like that, and I want the large numbers of people who did that last week for heartfelt reasons to rest assured.’

The figures for the Conservative party, by the way, are even more eye-popping. More than two-thirds of Tory party members voted for a party other than their own, the vast majority choosing the Brexit party.

It is, of course, intensely frustrating when people whose politics differ from yours say things that you know to be untrue. But in a democracy, the law must never be used to criminalise a difference of opinion.

The test for democrats is to find an effective way to combat the lies – and the deeply worrying fact about the Brexit crisis is that we have learnt the hard way that lies can often be much more powerful than truth.

If we are going to be put through the agony of another Brexit referendum or an early general election – which I think becomes more likely with every passing day – then it’s a test we shall probably have to pass much sooner than we might like.

The prime minister who failed

I wonder what will the history books will say. Was it the events of Thursday – the European elections – or of Friday – Theresa May’s resignation announcement – that changed the course of British politics?

Were they an earthquake, a shifting of the tectonic plates after which the British political landscape never looked the same again? Or a mere spasm, a violent shudder after which the waters soon calmed, the winds abated, and life carried on much as before?

The chapter dealing with the events of the past week will probably be titled ‘The Fall of a Failed Prime Minister.’ But perhaps, when we eventually have a chance to look back, it won’t be Mrs. May’s tearful appearance in Downing Street that will be seen as the most significant.

We won’t know the results of Thursday’s European parliament elections until Sunday night/Monday morning – but I think we can say with a fair degree of confidence that they were not the Conservative party’s finest hour.

Nor, I suspect, will Jeremy Corbyn have much to celebrate. So if the two political parties which between them have dominated UK politics for the best part of a century have both done appallingly, what does that tell us?

Perhaps it tells us that they have outlived their usefulness. Both were broad coalitions: the Tories included landed gentry, old-fashioned English nationalists, industrialists, businesspeople, and aspiring, skilled blue-collar workers. Labour embraced organised trades unionism, Socialists, public sector workers, and middle-class, university-educated urbanites.

Those coalitions, which have been steadily pulling away from each other, largely but not only as a result of the tensions created by the Brexit debate, now look increasingly precarious. It is possible, therefore that the two-party system is, to coin a phrase, no longer fit for purpose.

So let’s sit down with a blank sheet of paper and create an entirely new party system. (We can leave reform of our Westminster voting system out of this discussion for now, although if you want to be reminded of my view, here’s a link to a piece I wrote four years ago, just before the 2015 general election.)

It’s not too difficult to imagine a four-party system which would more accurately reflect the main political currents in contemporary Britain. (The SNP, Plaid Cymru and the parties of northern Ireland do not form part of this discussion, so perhaps more accurately I should refer to ‘contemporary England.’)

First, the English Nationalists. Leader, obviously: Nigel Farage. Their support comes from the white working class; older white voters, most of them men; some of the post-industrial cities of northern England and the Midlands – and Jacob Rees-Mogg.

Second, the Conservative Democrats. Leader: Hmm. Amber Rudd? Rory Stewart? Heidi Allen? Supporters include one-nation Tories, a section of the professional classes (doctors, lawyers, teachers) and middle-class voters who believe in what used to be called (by David Cameron, among others) ‘compassionate Conservatism.’

Third, the Social Democrats. Leader: Yvette Cooper? Keir Starmer? Chuka Umunna? (He wishes …) Supporters include non-Corbynite Labour supporters from the professions, young urbanites and a smattering of Liberal Democrats.

Fourth, the Socialists. Leader: John McDonnell. Loyal to their Marxist roots, they are determined to reform or replace capitalism with what they call a fairer economic system. Supporters come from Momentum, young voters and some trades unionists.

It’s unlikely that any of them would win enough votes in a general election to form a majority government on their own, so coalitions will be the order of the day.

Depending on the parliamentary arithmetic, it could be an English Nationalist-Conservative Democrat coalition. Not too different, perhaps, from what we’ll see emerging over the coming months.

Or it could be a Conservative Democrat-Social Democrat coalition, a bit like the Cameron-Clegg coalition between 2010 and 2015. (Which was, as you may remember, a great deal more stable than what followed.)

Or a Social Democrat-Socialist coalition, not unlike the Blair-Brown years, but with fewer temper tantrums.

It is possible – not likely, but possible – that we are observing the beginning of the end of the Conservative party as we know it. There is no law of politics that says parties have to last for ever (did anyone vote Whig yesterday?) – just look at France, Spain or Italy – and it could well be that David Cameron’s absent-minded triggering of the Brexit nightmare dealt a fatal blow not only to his own career but also to his party.

Or perhaps Boris Johnson really will save it from oblivion. He could cosy up to Nigel Farage and sweep up all the Brexit party’s votes in a general election, just as Margaret Thatcher swept up National Front votes in 1979 by expressing sympathy for voters ‘who rather fear being swamped by people with a different culture.’ (Remember, in the 2014 European elections, UKIP won 27.5% of the vote and twenty-three MEPs. A year later, they won just 3.9% of the vote in the general election, and just one MP.)

As for Mrs May, I suspect history will not be kind. Yes, she inherited a lousy hand of cards – but she then played them appallingly. Like Neville Chamberlain, she was the wrong prime minister at the wrong time, inadequate and incapable of leading her country through a grave national crisis.

So what the hell will happen next?

I wonder what will the history books will say. Was it an earthquake, a shifting of the tectonic plates after which the British political landscape never looked the same again? Or a mere spasm, a violent shudder after which the waters soon calmed, the winds abated, and life carried on much as before?

We won’t know the results of these most bizarre European parliament elections until Sunday night/Monday morning – but I think we can say with a fair degree of confidence that they were not the Conservative party’s finest hour.

Nor, I suspect, will Jeremy Corbyn have much to celebrate. So if the two political parties which between them have dominated UK politics for the best part of a century have both done appallingly, what does that tell us?

Perhaps it tells us that they have outlived their usefulness. Both were broad coalitions: the Tories included landed gentry, old-fashioned English nationalists, industrialists, businesspeople, and aspiring, skilled blue-collar workers. Labour embraced organised trades unionism, Socialists, public sector workers, and middle-class, university-educated urbanites.

Those coalitions, which have been steadily pulling away from each other, largely but not only as a result of the tensions created by the Brexit debate, now look increasingly precarious. It is possible, therefore, that the two-party system is, to coin a phrase, no longer fit for purpose.

So let’s sit down with a blank sheet of paper and create an entirely new party system. (We can leave reform of our Westminster voting system out of this discussion for now, although if you want to be reminded of my view, here’s a link to a piece I wrote four years ago, just before the 2015 general election.)

It’s not too difficult to imagine a four-party system which would more accurately reflect the main political currents in contemporary Britain. (The SNP, Plaid Cymru and the parties of northern Ireland do not form part of this discussion, so perhaps more accurately I should refer to ‘contemporary England.’)

First, the English Nationalists. Leader, obviously: Nigel Farage. Their support comes from the white working class; older white voters, most of them men; some of the post-industrial cities of northern England and the Midlands – and Jacob Rees-Mogg.

Second, the Conservative Democrats. Leader: Hmm. Amber Rudd? Rory Stewart? Heidi Allen? Supporters include one-nation Tories, a section of the professional classes (doctors, lawyers, teachers) and middle-class voters who believe in what used to be called (by David Cameron, among others) ‘compassionate Conservatism.’

Third, the Social Democrats. Leader: Yvette Cooper? Keir Starmer? Chuka Umunna? (He wishes …) Supporters include non-Corbynite Labour supporters from the professions, young urbanites and a smattering of Liberal Democrats.

Fourth, the Socialists. Leader: John McDonnell. Loyal to their Marxist roots, they are determined to reform or replace capitalism with what they call a fairer economic system. Supporters come from Momentum, young voters and some trades unionists.

It’s unlikely that any of them would win enough votes in a general election to form a majority government on their own, so coalitions will be the order of the day.

Depending on the parliamentary arithmetic, it could be an English Nationalist-Conservative Democrat coalition. Not too different, perhaps, from what we’ll see emerging over the coming months.

Or it could be a Conservative Democrat-Social Democrat coalition, a bit like the Cameron-Clegg coalition between 2010 and 2015. (Which was, as you may remember, a great deal more stable than what followed.)

Or a Social Democrat-Socialist coalition, not unlike the Blair-Brown years, but with fewer temper tantrums.

It is possible – not likely, but possible – that we are observing the beginning of the end of the Conservative party as we know it. There is no law of politics that says parties have to last for ever (did anyone vote Whig yesterday?) – just look at France, Spain or Italy – and it could well be that David Cameron’s absent-minded triggering of the Brexit nightmare dealt a fatal blow not only to his own career but also to his party.

Or perhaps Boris Johnson really will save it from oblivion. He could cosy up to Nigel Farage and sweep up all the Brexit party’s votes in a general election, just as Margaret Thatcher swept up National Front votes in 1979 by expressing sympathy for voters ‘who rather fear being swamped by people with a different culture.’ (Remember, in the 2014 European elections, UKIP won 27.5% of the vote and twenty-three MEPs. A year later, they won just 3.9% of the vote in the general election, and just one MP.)

I’ve just realised: I haven’t once mentioned Theresa May. Already forgotten. Like Neville Chamberlain, she was the wrong prime minister at the wrong time, inadequate and incapable of leading her country through a grave national crisis.