What a depressing night. Apparently, people are turning out in record numbers to vote. I can’t imagine why.
In days past, exercising one’s democratic right lifted one’s spirits. There was something distinctly moving about the sight of ordinary people turning up calmly to vote in a new government. Generations of Englishman had bequeathed this precious right. Millions round the world were denied it. One’s cross was unlikely to make a difference. But just for a moment, one felt part of a greater pattern. The nation was deciding, and one was part of the nation.
But for the first time, like many others I imagine, I have been forced to spoil my ballot paper.
Not too much to expect, one would have thought, for there to be a party, even an eccentric individual, to put the national interest first. But that would require the admission that there is a nation. And none of the mainstream parties can bring themselves to do this. For to do this would be offensive – an offence against diversity. For we are a diverse inclusive multicultural society. Or at least, so we are told.
‘Speak for England!’, cried veteran Conservative MP Leo Amery on 2nd September 1939, as deputy Labour leader Arthur Greenwood rose to reply to Neville Chamberlain, who had just delivered a statement outlining his latest efforts to appease Hitler. The house cheered and Greenwood rose to the occasion.
Hard to imagine such language being used nowadays. But then in those days, global Britain meant imperial dominion. Now it means an open invitation to invade and to colonise us.
Tonight, I shall retire early to bed with an aspirin and a dystopian novel.
I wonder how other Salisbury Review sympathisers intend to spend the evening.