Believing in Britain
'Why don't you believe in Britain?', 'We can do it if you just believe in Britain', 'We need someone who really believes in Britain', 'Things are bad now because too many people don't believe in Britain', 'Things will be good again when more people believe in Britain'.
A cacophony of calls for more belief suffuses current British politics. There is no problem too great, no detail too complex, no fact too stubborn, that cannot be ultimately overcome by an ever greater injection of jingoism. And in the past week, it is an attitude that has risen to the very top. We are now governed by a whole set of politicians who will tell you that if you just believe a bit more then anything is possible. On the flip side, if you refuse to indulge in this game, then the UK's new Prime Minister has declared that you are betting against Britain. But what does it even mean to 'believe in Britain'? Where is the threshold for this ethereal quality and who decides where it is set? And, ultimately, what happens to our society when not everyone signs up to this new demand?
In terms of meaning, it is hard to pin down exactly, as the idea of 'believing in Britain' is the kind of empty rhetorical device that is valued precisely because of its flexibility. But if we were to attempt a definition, we could fairly conclude that it is a request to put aside any misgivings and to abandon analysis. Facts, expertise, academic reports - none of these are deemed to be as important as simple faith. If the facts seem to suggest that things look pretty gloomy, then the solution is to forget about them and to just believe in a better version of reality. A charitable interpretation could also be that, in some cases, 'belief' is really given as a proxy for a desire to take risks - 'the future is uncertain and the payoffs may be great, so we should give this policy a try'. In addition, it is not so much 'Britain' we are being asked to believe in but rather the policy of Brexit and, more generally, the government as a whole.
But how much belief should we have? From listening to some Brexiteers, it would appear that the bar is set at nothing less than limitless faith. Any suggestion that Britain might not be able to do something or any doubt that a particular course of action is entirely reasonable or wise is condemned as a personal moral failing and the doubter (or 'gloomster', to use the trite, faux-eccentric language of the Prime Minister) is reprimanded for a lack of patriotism. Yet isn't this a bit ridiculous? Even at the height of its strength, when the British Empire held substantial amounts of territory around the world and was ranked as one of the greatest economic and military powers, there were still things - movements, conflicts, rivals, events, ideas - that escaped Britain's absolute control. If Britain's capacity had indeed been limitless then the empire would have simply grown and grown, overcoming every challenge it faced. This is, of course, not what happened. There were hard limits on what could be done, real constraints had an impact and so the empire eventually collapsed. Certainly, in the time that has elapsed since that point, it is more than unlikely that Britain has become more powerful. Rather, like most Western countries our relative power has declined, a natural consequence of the increased pace of development among the other states of the world. The idea that we should hold a never-ending belief in our own capacity for greatness, then, seems quite starkly out of touch with reality.
Put another way, are we really to believe that there is no line between patriotism and delusion? Is there not a point, for individuals just as much as states, where self-belief exceeds the actual ability to act to such a great extent that the confidence ceases to be admirable and becomes risible instead? The logical and obvious answer is yes, that dividing line does exist. Even if we take 'belief' in the sense of risk-taking, the same conclusion largely applies. There is a fine line between sensible, entrepreneurial risk-taking and recklessness. That line is largely defined by the attention given to those who will bear the greatest costs if the risk ends in disaster and how they will be protected. It is, in some sense, an element of constructive self-doubt that protects us from destructive tendencies. The need for 'belief' is an insufficient answer to the questions raised by a serious examination of risk. So, we should all we be able to agree that actually there is a threshold for 'believing in Britain', that it makes no sense for it to be limitless.
This is not a trivial conclusion, at least not in the current context. If delusion here is possible then we can establish beyond this threshold, 'believing in Britain' is no longer a uniquely positive quality. This has two consequences. The first is that where we set that threshold becomes a legitimate debate. Some will set it higher but others will set it lower and they will not be less British or less committed to Britain merely for doing so. There is a world of difference between taking a different assessment of the country's material capacity and believing that Britain will always fail. It is not treasonous or unpatriotic to believe that Britain exists within the bounds of reality, that our capacity has real limits - we only have so many troops, so many ships, the amount of resources we can deploy is limited, we need partners who can support us, we do rely on strong alliances, our economy does need free access to the economies of our nearest neighbours.
This does not mean Britain is seen as weak. Rather it is a realistic assessment of what actually constitutes strength. Britain may well be a strong power, an influential force in the world, but only the tiniest fraction of that power can be ascribed to 'belief'. To believe in Britain, then, is not inherently wrong but belief is not a resource and it should not be treated as a replacement for those resources that do constitute the power of a state. And, importantly, if the path you are asking people to believe in not only ignores those real foundations of power, but actively undermines them, then self-confidence becomes not just a poor substitute but a damaging poison.
This leads us onto the second consequence of the assessment that there is a real, practical threshold to the usefulness of self-belief. If we base our policies, if we choose to embark on an endeavour that is not within our means then we risk not only failure but doing active harm to ourselves. The question of where this threshold can be found, of when we might be crossing the line from justifiable self-confidence into delusion, is therefore a question that holds deep importance. It is not simply something we can debate, it is something we should and must debate. If we are doing harm to our country, then we cannot call ourselves patriots. If a politics of delusion has taken over then all reasonable people should agree that there is a clear and intense moral duty to challenge that status quo.
Overall therefore we can establish three things. First, there is a threshold between belief and delusion. Second, the point at which you set that threshold is a legitimate discussion and to set it lower than the ardent Nationalists is a rational assessment that can be held by decent citizens, not disloyalty. Third, the issue of where that threshold lies does not represent a mildly interesting academic inquiry but is actually a question of some importance that should be addressed in order to avoid (potentially serious) damage being done to the country.
The purpose of this assessment is not really to determine whether we have crossed that threshold (that is an entire debate in itself) but to establish the terms under which that debate might be held and be consistent with a democratic, open and pluralistic society. With that knowledge, we can clearly see how far the actual rhetoric and actions of the government are from that ideal. What we are being exposed to, the way the concept of 'belief in Britain' is being instrumentalised, constitutes the very opposite of that. There is a threshold that exists but the issue is being treated as though there isn't, as though the level of self-belief is, and should be, limitless. Where the threshold lies can be debated fairly but we are being told that unless you subscribe to this limitless faith then you do not believe in your country at all and, worse, are perhaps even conspiring in some manner against your country. The issue is a question of importance but attempts to challenge this narrative are batted away with made-up words and bluster. This response to critics and dissenters tells us a very simple truth: the narrative of Brexiteers and the government, the exhortation to 'believe in Britain', is not being deployed for any other purpose than to suppress debate and to paint their opponents as illegitimate.
In seeking to claim a monopoly on 'belief in Britain', Brexiteers are not promoting unity but undermining the fabric of our society. Instead of a rallying cry to unite disparate visions of this country's future, the slogan of 'believing in Britain' is a weapon being used by the ruling party and its allies to attack its opponents in the rest of society. It is one thing to question a policy that you disagree with. It is even okay and normal in democratic societies to go on the offensive against other political leaders who you disagree with. But for political leaders themselves, and especially in the case of the Prime Minister, to seek to excommunicate a section of the country's citizens, to effectively declare them anti-British for the crime of disagreeing with the extent of this country's practical capacity and resources, is an action that will do long-term damage. This is not fighting the culture war, it is escalating it.
And on the international stage, this idea of belief is doing more harm than good too. Some have taken to believe that if Britain stands tall and is more assertive with other states, then we will regain our 'natural' position at the top table. Even if Britain were an immensely powerful state (something which is not obvious from the current context, where the country is very much struggling to assert itself), an excess of self-belief would be arrogant and create resentment. By contrast, if our power is not so great, then an excess of self-confidence is embarrassing and diminishes us only further in the eyes of the world. No matter which way you see it, for a country to stride out like a peacock preening its feathers is rarely an act of good diplomacy. If your plan for the future rests on building strong international relationships, something we should all believe in one way or another, then these insistent declarations of greatness will do little to help. Even on the Brexiteers' own terms, it is an approach to international politics that is deeply misguided.
So where does all this leave us? 'Belief in Britain', as it is being portrayed by Brexiteers, is an ideological framework where real problems do not exist - they are merely the result of a lack of belief. Not only is this wrong, it is a terrible way to make policy. If a policy is good, then the evidence will bear this out independent of your belief. If you give precedent to belief over evidence, then the most likely outcome is that you will produce bad policy. And bad policy (somewhat unsurprisingly) is never good for a country. There is something more interesting to be drawn from this, however. The exhortation to 'believe in Britain' should be understood as both a weapon and a crutch. A weapon in the sense that it is a rhetorical device used to delegitimise critics of the government and of Brexit. A crutch in the sense that reliance on such a device exposes the lack of intellectual seriousness that lies at the heart of Brexit, the inability to put forward reasoned arguments backed up with facts and evidence that are able to survive even ten minutes on social media before being ripped apart by actual experts. That the most powerful man using this declaration is an individual famously poor at getting to grips with detail, interested more in being the centre of attention than the complexities of policy-making, should not be a surprise.
Image via Flickr
A cacophony of calls for more belief suffuses current British politics. There is no problem too great, no detail too complex, no fact too stubborn, that cannot be ultimately overcome by an ever greater injection of jingoism. And in the past week, it is an attitude that has risen to the very top. We are now governed by a whole set of politicians who will tell you that if you just believe a bit more then anything is possible. On the flip side, if you refuse to indulge in this game, then the UK's new Prime Minister has declared that you are betting against Britain. But what does it even mean to 'believe in Britain'? Where is the threshold for this ethereal quality and who decides where it is set? And, ultimately, what happens to our society when not everyone signs up to this new demand?
In terms of meaning, it is hard to pin down exactly, as the idea of 'believing in Britain' is the kind of empty rhetorical device that is valued precisely because of its flexibility. But if we were to attempt a definition, we could fairly conclude that it is a request to put aside any misgivings and to abandon analysis. Facts, expertise, academic reports - none of these are deemed to be as important as simple faith. If the facts seem to suggest that things look pretty gloomy, then the solution is to forget about them and to just believe in a better version of reality. A charitable interpretation could also be that, in some cases, 'belief' is really given as a proxy for a desire to take risks - 'the future is uncertain and the payoffs may be great, so we should give this policy a try'. In addition, it is not so much 'Britain' we are being asked to believe in but rather the policy of Brexit and, more generally, the government as a whole.
But how much belief should we have? From listening to some Brexiteers, it would appear that the bar is set at nothing less than limitless faith. Any suggestion that Britain might not be able to do something or any doubt that a particular course of action is entirely reasonable or wise is condemned as a personal moral failing and the doubter (or 'gloomster', to use the trite, faux-eccentric language of the Prime Minister) is reprimanded for a lack of patriotism. Yet isn't this a bit ridiculous? Even at the height of its strength, when the British Empire held substantial amounts of territory around the world and was ranked as one of the greatest economic and military powers, there were still things - movements, conflicts, rivals, events, ideas - that escaped Britain's absolute control. If Britain's capacity had indeed been limitless then the empire would have simply grown and grown, overcoming every challenge it faced. This is, of course, not what happened. There were hard limits on what could be done, real constraints had an impact and so the empire eventually collapsed. Certainly, in the time that has elapsed since that point, it is more than unlikely that Britain has become more powerful. Rather, like most Western countries our relative power has declined, a natural consequence of the increased pace of development among the other states of the world. The idea that we should hold a never-ending belief in our own capacity for greatness, then, seems quite starkly out of touch with reality.
Put another way, are we really to believe that there is no line between patriotism and delusion? Is there not a point, for individuals just as much as states, where self-belief exceeds the actual ability to act to such a great extent that the confidence ceases to be admirable and becomes risible instead? The logical and obvious answer is yes, that dividing line does exist. Even if we take 'belief' in the sense of risk-taking, the same conclusion largely applies. There is a fine line between sensible, entrepreneurial risk-taking and recklessness. That line is largely defined by the attention given to those who will bear the greatest costs if the risk ends in disaster and how they will be protected. It is, in some sense, an element of constructive self-doubt that protects us from destructive tendencies. The need for 'belief' is an insufficient answer to the questions raised by a serious examination of risk. So, we should all we be able to agree that actually there is a threshold for 'believing in Britain', that it makes no sense for it to be limitless.
This is not a trivial conclusion, at least not in the current context. If delusion here is possible then we can establish beyond this threshold, 'believing in Britain' is no longer a uniquely positive quality. This has two consequences. The first is that where we set that threshold becomes a legitimate debate. Some will set it higher but others will set it lower and they will not be less British or less committed to Britain merely for doing so. There is a world of difference between taking a different assessment of the country's material capacity and believing that Britain will always fail. It is not treasonous or unpatriotic to believe that Britain exists within the bounds of reality, that our capacity has real limits - we only have so many troops, so many ships, the amount of resources we can deploy is limited, we need partners who can support us, we do rely on strong alliances, our economy does need free access to the economies of our nearest neighbours.
This does not mean Britain is seen as weak. Rather it is a realistic assessment of what actually constitutes strength. Britain may well be a strong power, an influential force in the world, but only the tiniest fraction of that power can be ascribed to 'belief'. To believe in Britain, then, is not inherently wrong but belief is not a resource and it should not be treated as a replacement for those resources that do constitute the power of a state. And, importantly, if the path you are asking people to believe in not only ignores those real foundations of power, but actively undermines them, then self-confidence becomes not just a poor substitute but a damaging poison.
This leads us onto the second consequence of the assessment that there is a real, practical threshold to the usefulness of self-belief. If we base our policies, if we choose to embark on an endeavour that is not within our means then we risk not only failure but doing active harm to ourselves. The question of where this threshold can be found, of when we might be crossing the line from justifiable self-confidence into delusion, is therefore a question that holds deep importance. It is not simply something we can debate, it is something we should and must debate. If we are doing harm to our country, then we cannot call ourselves patriots. If a politics of delusion has taken over then all reasonable people should agree that there is a clear and intense moral duty to challenge that status quo.
Overall therefore we can establish three things. First, there is a threshold between belief and delusion. Second, the point at which you set that threshold is a legitimate discussion and to set it lower than the ardent Nationalists is a rational assessment that can be held by decent citizens, not disloyalty. Third, the issue of where that threshold lies does not represent a mildly interesting academic inquiry but is actually a question of some importance that should be addressed in order to avoid (potentially serious) damage being done to the country.
The purpose of this assessment is not really to determine whether we have crossed that threshold (that is an entire debate in itself) but to establish the terms under which that debate might be held and be consistent with a democratic, open and pluralistic society. With that knowledge, we can clearly see how far the actual rhetoric and actions of the government are from that ideal. What we are being exposed to, the way the concept of 'belief in Britain' is being instrumentalised, constitutes the very opposite of that. There is a threshold that exists but the issue is being treated as though there isn't, as though the level of self-belief is, and should be, limitless. Where the threshold lies can be debated fairly but we are being told that unless you subscribe to this limitless faith then you do not believe in your country at all and, worse, are perhaps even conspiring in some manner against your country. The issue is a question of importance but attempts to challenge this narrative are batted away with made-up words and bluster. This response to critics and dissenters tells us a very simple truth: the narrative of Brexiteers and the government, the exhortation to 'believe in Britain', is not being deployed for any other purpose than to suppress debate and to paint their opponents as illegitimate.
In seeking to claim a monopoly on 'belief in Britain', Brexiteers are not promoting unity but undermining the fabric of our society. Instead of a rallying cry to unite disparate visions of this country's future, the slogan of 'believing in Britain' is a weapon being used by the ruling party and its allies to attack its opponents in the rest of society. It is one thing to question a policy that you disagree with. It is even okay and normal in democratic societies to go on the offensive against other political leaders who you disagree with. But for political leaders themselves, and especially in the case of the Prime Minister, to seek to excommunicate a section of the country's citizens, to effectively declare them anti-British for the crime of disagreeing with the extent of this country's practical capacity and resources, is an action that will do long-term damage. This is not fighting the culture war, it is escalating it.
And on the international stage, this idea of belief is doing more harm than good too. Some have taken to believe that if Britain stands tall and is more assertive with other states, then we will regain our 'natural' position at the top table. Even if Britain were an immensely powerful state (something which is not obvious from the current context, where the country is very much struggling to assert itself), an excess of self-belief would be arrogant and create resentment. By contrast, if our power is not so great, then an excess of self-confidence is embarrassing and diminishes us only further in the eyes of the world. No matter which way you see it, for a country to stride out like a peacock preening its feathers is rarely an act of good diplomacy. If your plan for the future rests on building strong international relationships, something we should all believe in one way or another, then these insistent declarations of greatness will do little to help. Even on the Brexiteers' own terms, it is an approach to international politics that is deeply misguided.
So where does all this leave us? 'Belief in Britain', as it is being portrayed by Brexiteers, is an ideological framework where real problems do not exist - they are merely the result of a lack of belief. Not only is this wrong, it is a terrible way to make policy. If a policy is good, then the evidence will bear this out independent of your belief. If you give precedent to belief over evidence, then the most likely outcome is that you will produce bad policy. And bad policy (somewhat unsurprisingly) is never good for a country. There is something more interesting to be drawn from this, however. The exhortation to 'believe in Britain' should be understood as both a weapon and a crutch. A weapon in the sense that it is a rhetorical device used to delegitimise critics of the government and of Brexit. A crutch in the sense that reliance on such a device exposes the lack of intellectual seriousness that lies at the heart of Brexit, the inability to put forward reasoned arguments backed up with facts and evidence that are able to survive even ten minutes on social media before being ripped apart by actual experts. That the most powerful man using this declaration is an individual famously poor at getting to grips with detail, interested more in being the centre of attention than the complexities of policy-making, should not be a surprise.
Image via Flickr
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