BREXIT BRITAIN

HAROLD WILSON once said a week was a long time in politics. In the present political climate, weeks must feel like eternities. Brexit has changed people’s views as the debate has raged on. For some, who were once moderate party members, have turned into hardened rebels; others who initially supported the Government’s approach now have real concerns about its direction.

Yet, the key conversation we should be having – one that has really been absent for too long – is what the next 15 or 20 years will look like; what we should actually do now, beyond the platitudinous slush, to ensure that the children of today and tomorrow can have a better life than us.

Deep down, our politicians must know that there is something amiss in the body politic of today. Populations are restless. People feel left out and ignored. The traditional levers to improve the world are malfunctioning – there is slower growth, foreign policy chaos and domestic budget stricture. The status quo appears brittle and worn. Where is the clarity about what to replace it with? The world is turning, and, for many, it appears to be turning away from them.

Underneath that sense of foreboding are two existential issues. The first is technology. In the lifetime of those born in the 1960s have seen the advent of the home computer, the internet and the mobile phone. Millions of jobs have been created by a medium that was invisible a generation ago and which, most likely, will have changed beyond recognition by the next.

Yet, even in normal times, politicians’ answer to technology is to either ignore it or grandstand on it. Take the tech giants and their questionable data practices. The elite have gone to town on them in recent months. CEOs have been chastened. Companies run warm adverts saying things like ‘we’ve changed’ without proper public consideration of what, over the long-term, we all need to change to.

The country’s focus on Brexit has meant we’ve missed the underlying, hard questions. Are they platforms or publishers? Are they monopolists or innovators? How do individual nation states regulate cross-border activity? The amount of time that politicians spend in legislatures debating the philosophical, economic and social impacts of artificial intelligence, big data and the loss of privacy is inversely proportional to their coming impacts.

There are many in parliament who are evangelical about technology and its ability to change lives. But surely, we have to ready citizens to take advantage of those opportunities through skills, flexibility and attitude. It is inevitable that there are huge potential changes coming, ones which will reshape our economy and our labour market. If these issues are not properly talked about, by preparing people to deal with them, we will be storing up tremendous problems for the future. We have to do much better.

This can all be reasonably predicted because it has happened before. The European Economic Community that Britain joined in 1973 was a very different beast to the EU we have part of since its expansion. Few people expected then that an economic union would also become a political one. Nor were most people aware or able to predict how fundamentally globalisation would reshape our economy and our communities. A lack of public consultation that forced through such massive changes had achieved a bipartisan consensus in Westminster. And it is this which brings us to the second existential issue for British politics: trust.

Those citizens who have borne the brunt of these radical changes feel ignored and patronised. Their security has been undermined and their way of life transformed. The years since the financial crash have been especially hard for many – to say nothing of the toxic cacophony of expenses scandals, dodgy dossiers, spin and the obscuring of hard choices. It seems to many that the system is now not only untrustworthy but also fundamentally rotten.

Against that backdrop, Brexit was an opportunity to restore that trust with a large section of society. By granting the referendum, our political class seemed to have recognised the need for a new democratic input – for some kind of check from the people of Britain on the consensus MPs had established. “The Government will implement what you decide,” said the booklet that dropped through every household letterbox, and many millions of voters believed it. Their decision was close but clear: Britain must leave the EU. The definition of that result was politically distilled, and the departure from the single market and the customs union has been cemented. In the general election of 2017, 85 per cent of people agreed.

Distrust and disengagement have now been replaced by curiosity. People hesitantly dared to hope that the political class was actually going to do something they requested.

Then along came Chequers. At a stroke, that emerging engagement with politics was dashed. Government spin proclaims that we are taking back control. The reality is that we are ceding it, at least on trade, in perpetuity. The document is a clever, legalistic, splitting-the-difference tome; the product of a process driven by a civil service never fully reconciled to leaving and, ultimately, not wanting to grasp the nettle.

Whatever we may think about the referendum, and whatever our own personal views on Chequers are, the key measure is one of trust. Does this proposal properly embody the decision of the British people in 2016? How is it sold to the disengaged or the exasperated? And, when this offer is salami-sliced away into irrelevance by the EU, what should the British people be told? That we gave it our best effort but came up short? That Brussels was right? That our political masters know best?

If Brexit directly leads to the jobs of truck drivers and call-centre workers being automated away without consultation or compensation, politicians here will not be forgiven. And if, after years of globalisation and European integration, MPs do not honour the pledge on which they hung their entire credibility, and implement the orders they had been given, politicians will lose the trust of the electorate for a generation.