This is a blog I’ve started many
times. Each time from a new angle, each time trying to find something that will
convince one doubter to vote remain. But each time I have found myself unable
to finish. The feeling of impotence as yet another article is added to the pile
of pro-Remain arguments – mirrored by a pile of equal height of pro-Brexit – choked
me, overwhelmed me, and I stopped. So now, instead of trying to write an
article that makes the case, I simply want to write why I have made the choice
I have and am voting to remain. It’s not a diatribe, it’s more of a diary.
Of course, there are the
practical, pragmatic, monetary and selfish considerations. I’ve seen lots of
figures bandied about, erroneous on both sides no doubt, but I am simply not
convinced by the argument that we can have all of the economic benefits of EU
membership without the membership itself or the investment which that
membership requires. I’ve watched the value of the pound drop steadily with
every surge of support for Brexit and can’t help feeling that tells us
something. I also want to protect my rights to a limited working week, sick
pay, holidays. I sigh with impatience as immigration and the EU are yet again
conflated – as if 50% of our immigrants
were not from outside the EU (a figure that would rise if we left), as if we
could stop European immigration while maintaining our trade agreements. I groan
in disbelief as voters with no experience of people who have immigrated feel
the need to defend those ‘suffering’ elsewhere.
But, in the end, this referendum
is personal, isn’t it? That’s why the interviews, the interactive graphics, the
poll trackers all feel so futile. Because in the end each person will vote with
their gut. My vote to remain has a lot to do with the person I am.
I grew up in Northern Ireland,
but lived through very little of ‘the Troubles’, in large part because of the
huge efforts of those on both sides seeking peace. I remember the Good Friday
Agreement in 1998 and experienced the stability of the years that followed. So
my heart sinks when I think of leaving the EU. Of the border controls which
would need to be imposed to stop freedom of movement through the UK’s only land
border with an EU country. Of the smouldering tensions this would fan
effortlessly into flame. “The vision of border controls plays into the hands of
those who have yet to realise the armed struggle is over… Any step backwards is
a really bad idea,” wrote Sir Hugh Orde (former chief constable of the Police
Service Northern Ireland) earlier this month.
I am also the wife of a Spaniard.
We met one summer six years ago when I got on a train, and he on a plane, and
travelled from our respective countries (no visas) to Bordeaux. We lived there
for a month, with a Belgian and a German, each giving tours of the cathedral in
our respective languages to hundreds of tourists a week. Because I’m lazy (and
a bit of a home bird), if I’d had to get a visa to go to Bordeaux, I probably
wouldn’t have bothered. And the idea that I would then not be with my husband
gives me vertigo to say the least. But what really gets me isn’t the
inconvenience of a visa. It’s the fact that that Belgian boy and that German
girl became our friends. That Spaniard became my husband and partner in life. So much of this referendum is predicated on fear – fear of what will
happen if we leave or if we stay, fear of the faceless masses looming beyond
our borders, fear of the people within our borders. I vote to remain because
those people are my friends, our friends. Because I know I do not need to fear
them.
And I am a follower of Jesus
Christ. Christ who was a refugee. Christ who not only loved the outcast but
welcomed them to eat with him and restored them to society. Christ who said
‘love your neighbour as yourself’ – not ‘leave your neighbour to sort out their
own problems’. Christ who is Love.
I recently read someone who wrote
that ‘If the Leave campaign was about how Britain could contribute more to the
world if it left the EU then I’d be interested. But it’s not. It’s about how
Britain can give less and take more from the world – and how it can keep the
rest of the world out.’ And, to me, that’s it. If my vote is not about how we
can care more for the vulnerable, about how we can contribute to the good of
our communities and our planet, then to me it is worthless. The campaign to leave
has revolved around what we get, what we lose, on who we hate and who is
hurting us. That is what wins if we leave. I cannot reconcile it with my
calling in Christ. And I, in conscience, cannot vote for it.