Brexit: Diff’rent yokes for diff’rent folks.

As a Canadian, I can’t say I was terribly invested in the question of whether the United Kingdom should or shouldn’t leave the European Union. I suppose my slight preference was for a Leave vote, just as my slight preference in the 2014 Scottish referendum was for independence, just as I was pretty sanguine about the prospect of Quebec’s departure during that province’s referendum campaign way back in 1995. I have a sentimental streak of small-is-beautiful conservatism which, if I were English, might lead people to dismiss me as a Little Englander. I’m not altogether clear on why that’s considered a slur.

Up until a few years ago – say, 2007 – I never really questioned the value of EU membership for Britain. The great convenience of free trade and travel around the continent more than compensated, I would have said, for the pin-pricking of petty rules dreamed up by bureaucrats in Brussels.

Then the subprime mortgage crisis happened, leading in 2010 to the Greek debt perma-crisis, now entering its seventh year. Don’t ask me to explain how a real estate bubble in the United States led to the near-default of Greece, threatening to tank the entire European economy. I’m sure you’re a diligent reader of the financial news and you can explain how it’s all the fault of a) hyperregulatory welfare statism or b) the machinations of predatory bankers (pick one).

I’m not a particularly intelligent person, but neither am I outrageously dumb. Let’s say I’m at the 50th percentile, IQ-wise. And while I’m not as well-informed as I know I should be, I do make some effort to keep abreast of the news. If it helps you to place my level of financial literacy, I read the book version of The Big Short a few years before the movie came out – in other words, I’m able to follow business reportage at an airport-bookstore level – putting me, once again, at let’s say the 50th percentile. And after reading nearly a decade of argumentation about the causes of the economic clusterhump we’re still crawling our way out of, I still have no goddamned clue what happened. And about half the population has less of a clue than I have.

That’s ultimately why I’m wary of the EU, and NAFTA, and the WTO, and any other arrangement that erodes national sovereignty. It’s not that I think Greece, or Quebec, or the UK are any less likely on their own to blindly drive into the quicksand than they would be as provinces of a vast multiethnic empire. But as long as national borders exist, national catastrophes are to some degree localized. The effects are concentrated among people with the same cultural values, speaking the same language, using the same currency. Which means it might be possible, barely, for humans of limited intellect to wrap their heads around the causes of the catastrophe and take steps to contain it. And for the equally slow-witted citizens of nearby countries to learn from their neighbours’ errors before the same catastrophe overwhelms them.

If you have libertarian or neo-liberal or internationalist leanings you’re probably rolling your eyes at this retrograde stuff. Computers, the internet, global satellite communications – these things, you say, can’t be un-invented. We’re stuck in this borderless, speed-of-light reality, like it or no. The best thing is to set up a system of supra-national governance where the world’s brightest minds will be empowered to head off crises before they happen.

I guess it’s a matter of outlook. Down here at the 50th percentile I don’t have much confidence that the bright minds at the 99th percentile are as competent to foresee crises as they seem to think they are. In fact, reviewing the history of the last decade and a half or so, what I see is a succession of crises caused or at least exacerbated by the reckless utopianism of 99th-percentile types. The reckless utopians of the so-called right who were confident they could “drain the swamp” of Middle Eastern medievalism. And the reckless utopians of the so-called left who thought the symbolic importance of a common currency outweighed the dangers of duct-taping together a group of incongruous European economies.

It’s true that voters are at least partially to blame for elevating their leaders to positions where they could do such damage. But it’s one thing to elect a nitwit who near wrecks your own country. The most frustrating thing in the world must be to find yourself under the yoke of some nitwit you never even voted for, whom you believe – fairly or not – to be wrecking your country from the outside.

I’ve never really experienced that. But I can imagine how it must have felt for Scots who were powerless to thwart Margaret Thatcher’s reforms, or Quebecers offended by Pierre Trudeau’s constitutional swashbuckling, or Brits waking up one day to discover that Angela Merkel had unilaterally abrogated the rules governing asylum seekers in Europe.

Utopianism is the belief that for any problem there is one right, perfect, universal solution which, once it’s imposed, will quiet all critics and bring about perfect contentment forever. A more modest problem-solver says no, in fact, there are any number of potential solutions, each of them involving tradeoffs that will be more satisfactory to some groups, less so to others. Dissatisfied groups cluster together to air their grievances and wind up forming communities with shared values and assumptions. This has been happening for as long as humans have existed – in fact, it’s why there are different countries. It follows that different solutions are likely to be more satisfactory for some countries than for others. Why not, therefore, let different countries solve their problems in their own different ways?

M.

 

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