Displacement activity at Westminster
- Published
It is a truth universally acknowledged, at least in the animal kingdom. Now it appears that the phenomenon has extended to homo and femina sapiens.
I talk of displacement activity. You know, when a puzzled chimpanzee, torn between fight and flight, decides to scratch his head instead. Or, indeed, another part of his anatomy.
Or when a tiny garden bird descends eagerly upon a chunk of bread, only to find it pinched by a rapacious seagull. Said small bird will, instead of screeching in futile fury, pretend to find fascination in pecking at the ground.
(Incidentally, if you will forgive me a moment's displacement of my own, should these big white brutes still be called seagulls, given that they now mostly appear to inhabit city suburbs remote from ocean or firth?)
To be fair, displacement has perhaps long been part of our supposedly sentient existence. Certainly, I was delighted to find solace in rival distractions when the fifth goal went in at Tannadice last Friday (C'mon, fellow Arabs, it's easy to support them when they're winning: now they really need your backing).
And youngsters have long sought to displace the demands of homework by turning to other matters. Perhaps that internet thing provides more displacement routes, but the principle is the same.
Which brings me, finally, to politics. You knew I'd get there eventually.
Today's debate in the Commons, for example, about whether ministers collectively displayed contempt for the House anent the topic of legal advice.
Fascinating stuff. The House at its oratorical, pompous best. But just imagine how it looks to outsiders. Or future outsiders, such as the remaining EU27.
So give me this slowly. Your parliament is about to decide how and on what terms to end a forty year association with the European Union.
Your prime minister is waiting to open that debate. But she is put on hold for hours while MPs decide whether they are content with a summary of the concomitant legal advice - or whether they want the full, unexpurgated version.
Look, don't get me wrong. Satire aside, I know this matters. It might influence the discourse more generally. It might provide an early surrogate for the meaningful vote (sorry, Meaningful Vote).
But is there not also another factor at play? Most politicians are in an honourable lather of indecision with regard to Brexit. What if the vote is lost in the Commons next week? What if the EU27 insist on the current timetable? What if? What if?
Is it, perhaps, just a little tempting in the incendiary fire of such a ferocious constitutional problem to reach for the cooling balm of Gilead that is political process?
Let's fight over the legal advice and the rights of parliament. Let's argue over the putative participants in a televised debate.
I exempt, mostly, the initiative to seek a ruling from the European Court of Justice as to whether the UK might unilaterally withdraw from the Brexit process.
That has - or might have - a direct impact upon Brexit itself. That is, it would if it were thought at all feasible that the UK government will resile from Brexit.
An indirect impact, then, perhaps clearing the ground around a potential second referendum by making plain that if the UK collectively changes its mind again about Brexit, then the UK government can implement mandate two without seeking EU27 consent.
Except that such a process would presumably require the EU27 to stall the current timetable. Still, I repeat my offer of an exemption.
Then again, perhaps all the displacement debates have a solid function, beyond their apparent purpose.
I think it likely that the body politic is currently gulping at the enormity of the pending decisions - or, more precisely, the absence of any obvious single route.
So, instead of attacking the issue head on - which might only result in political concussion - they sidle up to the target, flitting from one process question to another while, one hopes, simultaneously considering the main substantive point.
Who could blame them? This is truly a stinker, perhaps requiring a dramatic interlude - a little like the supernatural intervention which customarily rounds off the plot in a panto (oh, yes it does...).
Maybe Geoffrey Cox, the attorney general, could oblige, after his Baron Hardup performance in the Commons yesterday.
Or maybe the interim apocalypse will only truly emerge after the Meaningful Vote on the 11th. Presume defeat for the prime minister (at this point, a reasonable presumption).
If it's a big enough reverse, presume that she goes - and that her acting successor is obliged to seek either a renegotiated deal or a second referendum. A general election being even harder to achieve.
Or this. Presume defeat for the prime minister. If there is subsequent turmoil in politics, presume that it generates a similar reaction in the markets, which slump. Presume that some MPs take fright. Enough to reverse the first defeat?
Perhaps, after all, displacement is a wise tactic for now. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.
- Published3 December 2018
- Published4 December 2018
- Published4 December 2018