Brexit: parochialism prevailed
A wave of nationalistic populism has lately been sweeping through the West; it claimed its first scalp last week. The casualty is the United Kingdom’s formidable place in Europe. And from what it looks, more such “revolts” – a term the Financial Times used to label the Brexit vote – might be on the way. “What have we done,” forlorn Brits wondered on Twitter after the vote. Their stupefaction is felt across the globe.
From one Donald Trump in America to a Nigel Farage in the UK, and from one Marine Le Pen in France to a Geert Wilders in the Netherlands, nasty political characters have been whipping up anti-trade and anti-immigrant sentiments to raise their electoral prospects. The audience is an angered working class, mostly natives, who feel increasingly let down by forces of globalization.
Their hurt is genuine. But the anger seems displaced, thanks to politicians who have looked for a convenient scapegoat in immigrants. The 2015 movie “The Big Short” – which is based on a true story during the 2007-08 sub prime crisis – comes to mind here. At the end of the movie, Steve Carell, a hedge-fund manager in the plot, delivers this sage line: “I have a feeling, in a few years people are going to be doing what they always do when the economy tanks. They will be blaming immigrants and poor people.”
Feeling encouraged by Brexit, far-right parties in major EU countries such as France, Italy, and the Netherlands are now demanding the same EU In/Out vote in their countries. After Brexit, Scotland – whose all 32 voting districts chose to remain within EU – may demand a second referendum to split from the UK. The day UK voted out, taking the stump from his new golf course in Scotland, Trump mused “(Brexit) will not be the last”, warned of a “German exit”, and told Americans to “follow suit” in November.
One can see that political argument based on notions of “sovereignty” (e.g. “Take Back Control,” the UK Leave campaign’s slogan), “identity” (e.g. “Make America Great Again,” Trump’s bumper sticker) and “borders” (e.g. “Build That Wall,” Trump’s recipe to keep the Mexicans out) is beating sound economic rationale offered by sane rivals. Cold calculations seem to be melting away in response to hot-button issues.
Is this the beginning of the end of regionalism? The gradual rise of post-WWII regionalism in Europe stopped hitherto enemies from tearing each other apart by building economic institutional structures over the past six decades. Going further in the European unity project, it integrated East and West Europe by opening up borders, fuelling development cooperation, and ushering in a common currency.
The political and material success of the EU project has long been envy of those outside Europe. From Nafta in North America to Asean in Southeast Asia, and Saarc in South Asia (just to name a few regional bodies), the EU model’s charm has inspired high hopes for regional political and economic cooperation. But even these treaties have been either discredited or deliberately compromised.
Nafta is regularly berated by Trump (and some Democrats, too) for America’s loss of manufacturing jobs to and growing trade deficit with Canada and Mexico. Diplomatic clashes over South China Sea have been limiting the Asean platform, which now seems more like a feuding ground among member countries. Intra-Saarc trade and investment prospects have been a perennial hostage to territorial hostilities among various members, despite a high cost of economic non-cooperation and poverty in South Asia.
It is too early to say what impact the UK’s exit will have on the EU model. After Brexit, the tone of EU bosses suggests that they will be forced to make an example of Britain to deter potential deserters. But Brussels is now also talking up the reforms game to keep rest of the 27 nations inside the still-expansive tent. In any case, after Brexit, the genie is out of the bottle. To put it back there and throw away into the sea, voters across the Atlantic will have to be far more discerning than their English counterparts.
