Second Life Shrink

Bregrets, we’ve had a few…

It’s tough to say which of the six ex-PMs of the last ten years was the worst, as each was terrible in his or her own way, but I would nominate David Cameron, for the level of entitled carelessness he displayed in needlessly subjecting the nation to the disaster of Brexit.

A decade on from that fateful day, I still feel visceral anger that my European citizenship was stolen from me by a sorry collection of cynical schemers, who had latched on to the populist campaign without really believing it could actually win. They have, of course, mostly walked away without suffering any adverse consequences, leaving the dispossessed masses who bought into the rhetoric to pay the price for the economic damage that has been done.

Worse though has been the effect on the national psyche; the UK today seems a sadder, meaner, less optimistic country than I can ever remember. It’s little surprise that polls consistently show a clear majority judging our departure from the EU a mistake, and support, especially from the younger generations, for rejoining.

We are where we are though. I’m tempted to say that all we can do is let hope triumph over experience, and trust that our next Prime Minister will finally be one who knows what he is doing, but I’m not quite ready to slide into such a state of passivity, so I’ll see if I can summon the resolve to get involved in some local political activity again. I guess I can’t bemoan the state of the world if I’m not prepared to at least try to do something to make it better.

London’s Burham’s

The country’s standing as a functional polity, already shaky, took another blow today, as Keir Starmer’s resignation marked the seventh time in a decade that the nation has been obliged to contemplate a new Prime Minister. It’s worth noting that only two of the six ex-premiers were dismissed by the electorate; Rishi Sunak directly in a General Election, and David Cameron as a consequence of the Brexit referendum. Theresa May, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss, and now Starmer were all defenestrated by their own MPs, making a mockery of our supposed democratic process.

So now we must, it seems, welcome Andy Burnham, who is offering… well it’s not clear exactly, since his declared platform doesn’t consist of much more than not being Keir Starmer.

I guess I should wait a little longer to see how things play out before I succumb to cynical hopelessness, but it feels like we’ve been around this block several times over the last few years, so it’s hard to retain any optimism…

Making it in Makerfield

Depending on the narrative you prefer to believe, tomorrow will mark either the start of a national renaissance, as PM-in-waiting Andy Burnham takes his first step towards Number 10, or the beginning of yet another spell of political chaos, after the carefully-laid plans of the Westminster elite are disrupted by a victory for the insurgents of Reform.

Informed opinion seems to favour the former scenario, on the grounds that progressive voters are likely to coalesce around Burnham, with the right split between Reform and Restore. It sounds plausible I guess, though “plausible” has hardly been a reliable guide to the political landscape around here in recent years.

My main anxiety stems from the assumption that the presence of Restore on the ballot will hurt Reform; to me it seems equally if not more likely that Farage’s outfit will benefit from a detoxifying effect, as closet racists reassure themselves that at least they’re not supporting the overt Nazis.

Even if the nightmare of a Reform win doesn’t unfold, Burnham’s path to the premiership is hardly obstacle-free, and there isn’t actually a huge amount of evidence that he would be any more up to the job of rectifying the nation’s woes than the current incumbent.

Perhaps I’m being too gloomy; even a small nudge in the direction of social democracy would be welcome in these times, and might be enough to take the wind out of the sails of those forces who want to roll back the hard-won victories of the last century. As ever, when the way ahead seems difficult, it pays to take the long view.

More election dissatisfaction

Readers may recall that I was rather annoyed back in 2024, when I ended up being unable to vote in that year’s General Election due to an ill-timed trip abroad. My inability to apply for a postal ballot in a timely fashion hasn’t been a problem for today’s local elections, as I’m safely at home and able to make it down to the polling station in person, but I still may end up abstaining, since not one of the candidates in my constituency is particularly inspiring.

I always used to vote for the Communists, represented in my district by a veteran comrade who looked like a contemporary of Joe Stalin himself, but the Party hasn’t put up a candidate since he passed away about a decade ago, so more recently I’ve been backing the Greens. They have evidently chosen to focus their electoral efforts elsewhere this year though, so I’ve been left politically homeless.

The seat I live in is not a marginal, so I guess my vote is not going to make much difference anyhow, but I still feel that I would be failing in my civic duty if I didn’t participate at all, so I’ll probably write in my own name for President or something.

Looking at the bigger picture, it seems certain that both Labour and the Conservatives are going to suffer some serious damage as an electorate thoroughly disenchanted with mainstream politics fractures unpredictably. Whether that will benefit broadly progressive parties like the Greens, and the Scottish and Welsh nationalists, or reactionary currents represented by Reform, remains to be seen. I’m hoping for the former, but the experience of the last few years suggests we need to prepare for the worst.

And we’re back

I was obliged to emerge from my bunker earlier this week, after the tinned food that I’d squirrelled away during the pandemic ran out, to find that, Donald Trump’s apocalyptic rhetoric notwithstanding, civilisation was still around, Trump having, to the surprise of just about nobody, backed down when his bluff was called.

I guess we’re not entirely out of the woods yet, since Trump is now faced with the problem of explaining why he embarked upon a course of action that has killed thousands of civilians, cost billions of dollars, and further alienated key allies, only to leave the US scrambling to make a deal on terms significantly worse than those the Iranian government was offering before the war began. In such circumstances he may be tempted to escalate the conflict, especially now he considers himself at least semi-divine, but the stock markets seem to be expecting some sort of resolution, which is probably all the reassurance we can hope for.

Meanwhile, back home, it looks like there may soon be a vacancy at the top of government again. Kier Starmer must have thought he had shored up his position a little by reading the public mood and keeping the UK well away from the Iran fiasco, but he has been back in crisis mode this week, after the Epstein/Mandelson scandal reignited with the revelation that the former Ambassador to the US was appointed despite failing his security vetting. Starmer’s defence – that it didn’t occur to him to enquire about this obviously important fact – doesn’t really inspire confidence in his judgement. He may survive until after the local elections next month, since none of his potential successors will want to be in charge as that anticipated disaster unfolds, but the country seems set for yet another summer of political instability.

Perhaps I should stock up on beans, and go back underground…

Good night and good luck

I’m reasonably confident that Donald Trump’s latest intemperate outburst is mere rhetorical bluster, and that he doesn’t really intend to kick off World War III later this evening, but in case I’m being over-optimistic I’ll take this chance to say goodbye to you, my loyal readers, and to wish you the best of fortune as you wander the post-apocalyptic wasteland.