England, Secede!
Glen Newey
One way round the legal problems posed by Brexit might be to mould it on the EU’s current relationship with the Channel Islands and Isle of Man. I grew up in, or on, Jersey (more on the preposition soon). It’s an odd place, for which the term ‘insular’, if anything, understates its inverted-telescope worldview. Jersey people can tell if someone comes from elsewhere in Britain in two ways. One is that they say ‘on’ rather than ‘in’ Jersey, which irks locals because it suggests, accurately enough, that the place is a windblasted reef jutting from the surf. The other is that they refer to Britain as ‘the mainland’ – because, for Jersey people, the mainland is Jersey. This helps make Jersey a microcosm of the attitudes that ‘Fog in Channel: Continent Isolated’ Englanders hold towards Albion, and a propitious model for its constitutional future.
Like Guernsey and the Isle of Man, Jersey is a Crown Dependency. It’s not fully part of the EU and didn’t get to vote in the referendum. By Protocol 3 of the 1972 Treaty of Accession to what’s now the European Union, these territories get something close to having their cake and eating it. Under its first article, customs duties are harmonised with the EU. Jersey doesn’t formally belong to the European Economic Area either. It has free movement of goods but not of persons, except within the ‘Common Travel Area’ comprised by the UK and Eire, nor the other ‘four freedoms’ enumerated by the Union (whether or not the Brexit talks could blag a similarly advantageous deal is, of course, another matter).
Still, this suggests a way of undoing the constitutional knot tied by Brexit. Before and since the vote there has been much talk about a second referendum in Scotland, as it voted emphatically for Remain. The Crown Dependency model suggests an inverse solution: for England (and maybe Wales) to secede from the United Kingdom by becoming the equivalent of a Crown Dependency, the point being that such territories, as the government puts it, ‘are not part of the UK but are self-governing dependencies of the Crown’. As England isn’t a member state of the EU, it couldn’t trigger Article 50 of the Lisbon Treaty to initiate withdrawal. But perhaps it wouldn’t need to. Once its Overseas Countries and Territories and Outermost Regions are factored in, the EU comprises a sprawling transcontinental empire on which the sun never sets; this allows for various sorts of de-VATed, VAT-lite and Schengenless gradations of membership. One precedent for withdrawal is another non-state entity, Greenland, which quit in 1982 after a 52/48 per cent vote (though without seceding from Denmark). By contrast, Algeria left the European Communities in 1962 after independence from France, of which it was a province rather than a colony.
If England seceded from the UK, several problems would be dodged. Scotland would dominate rump UK, and its urge to secede would be the weaker, as its wish to stay in the EU would be granted by simply not triggering Article 50. There would be no need to re-create the border between Northern Ireland and Eire, whose practical erasure is central to the Belfast Agreement (in a surreal moment last week, David Davis, the new Brexit minister, implied that the UK shared an ‘internal border’ with Eire). Unlike in the usual Brexit scenarios, there would then be an EU/non-EU frontier not in the sensitive Irish border region, but between England and Scotland (and maybe Wales). Crossing from one to the other would be no more traumatic than travel is now between the UK and the dependencies.
Among other benefits, the Crown Dependencies don’t have to pay into the CAP. Quasi-secession from the UK would also gratify English nationalists, who’d have the substance of self-government (the Isle of Man, Jersey and Guernsey each has its own nano-parliament). The queen could go on being sovereign in England, as she is over these other bits. It might be anomalous for the UK parliament to be based in part of the country that no longer belonged to it, but it could always be moved to Holyrood, Cardiff or wherever.
The urge to imperium begins at home. Becoming a Crown Dependency as a way to leave the EU, and turning into an adjunct of a Celt-led rump UK, would no doubt affront English amour-propre. And that’s among the least of the benefits.
Comments
Ireland is a republic. I don't really mind if the neigbours refer to the 26 counties as the Republic of Ireland but I do mind if they call the 26 counties 'Eire', or now more rarely, refer to Gaelic as 'erse'. The latter may be a Scottish Gaelic word, if so why not, but it makes no sense in English.
I really dislike it when, for instance, the dim French media refer to the UK as l'Angleterre. But David Davis and his 'internal borders( (M25?) is unforgivable. Still, the important thing is that we all get on. United at least by one language and, no!, that does not include you Americans!
I'm also interested in the internal logic of your answer. You note, correctly, that Irish passports say Eire. But who is it that you think issues those passports? Perhaps you thought they grew out of the soil, in which case I'm sorry to be the one who shatters that illusion because, well, they don't. Nor are they mystically conjured up by the Celtic Twilight, or by channeling a WB Yeats poem (or a Wolfe Tones song for that matter). So where do they come from? Who pays the employees who produce them? Who pays the translators who produce the Gaelic that appears in those passports? Who issues the stamps (which, as someone notes above, also say "Eire" on them) that are stuck to the envelopes used for sending and returning passport forms? Above all, who pays (and perhaps more to the point who does not pay) the taxes that fund all this passport-production? I think you'll find that the answer to all of those questions is The Republic of Ireland (and the taxpayers thereof). I think you'll also find that what you call "Ireland", by which you presumably mean the island and its smaller surrounding islands, contributes not one cent towards the Eire-entitled passports to which you refer. But then, that's the thing about islands and indeed other geographic features (rivers, mountains etc) - they tend not to get involved in passport-production, or indeed hospital-building, education-providing, road-repairing or any of the other messy affairs of people. That tends to be left to governments. As you say, names matter, so I suggest you name things correctly. And the government that issues the passports you refer to (including, I suspect, yours) is the government of the Republic of Ireland.
Pity that, eh? For too many of my fellows words tumble out like the Sedaris book title, "Me Talk Pretty One Day", but with no actual impetus to get there.