What even is a prorogue? What happens when Parliament is suspended? How does any of this affect me?
It’s simpler than you might think.
When you vote during a General Election, you’re not really voting for a party, you’re voting for a Member of Parliament (MP) to represent you.
Your MP may belong to a party, and that might be why you voted for them. But the reality is that your MP has their own mind and will to vote on issues as they see fit.
Your MP joins hundreds of other MPs in casting votes on which laws are made. Every law we live by today, from environmental protections to dealing with organised crime, has been decided by MPs in Parliament.
Theoretically, the party currently in government will have the most MPs. However, if that party is not behaving itself, its MPs may “rebel”, and vote against the Government on key matters.
In this way, Parliament is what limits the Government, and what prevents it from doing things that are clearly immoral and damaging to the country.
Or at least it should be.
On September 9th, Prime Minister Johnson will be “proroguing” Parliament. This is another word for “suspending”, or “shutting down”. What it means is that, from September 9th through to October 15th, Parliament will be unable to create any new laws, debate any topics, or act in any way.
This is not normal.
Parliament is occasionally prorogued, or suspended, in this manner, but usually only for a few days. Johnson’s current plan is to shut Parliament down for 37 days – more than a month.
What’s more, is that even after October 15th, there will still be a few days where Parliament is unable to vote on new laws, as they will be debating the Queen’s Speech – the agenda which lays out Government priorities. This means, in reality, Parliament will not be back to its normal functionality until the 21st or 22nd of October, so the shutdown will really last for closer to 43 or 44 days.
This is not normal.
Another term you will hear is “precedent.” This simply means that, in British law, and in Parliament, things that have happened before are more likely to happen again.
When Prime Minister Johnson shuts down Parliament for this long, he will be setting the precedent for it to happen again. He will be making it easier for himself, and future Prime Ministers, to shut down Parliament when it is politically convenient for him to do so.
Prime Minister Johnson wants to prevent Parliament from creating laws which block his political agenda. Because he knows enough of his own party’s MPs will rebel and vote against him, he is therefore shutting down Parliament before they have the chance to challenge him.
If he is allowed to do it this time, he will do it again.
In the big picture, what this does is take away Parliament’s power. By proroguing, or suspending, Parliament, Johnson is removing any power MPs have to challenge the Government in any way. And he is making it easier to repeat this trick in the future.
If your MP cannot vote on laws, and cannot challenge the government, then your vote in a General Election is effectively meaningless. You may draw a cross in a box on a sheet of paper, but it will carry no more meaning or power than an online petition, or even a Twitter poll.
You have a right to vote. Your grandparents fought for this right during the Second World War. Great Britain fought a war to preserve your right to a vote. Your right to a democracy.
Now, Prime Minister Johnson is trying to take that vote away, and break down the democratic process.
But you can help to stop this from happening!
Talk to your friends and your colleagues. Bring up the fact that your right to vote is being taken from you, in a very sneaky way. You might still vote, but the power and meaning of that vote will be completely gone.
You can also write to your MP and urge them to take immediate action via the website below – but you need to be quick about it, because very soon they might not be able to take action for you.
Finally, you can join protests and demonstrations. There will be protests all across the country over the next few weeks.
Protesting doesn’t mean getting arrested or causing a riot. It just means being present in a place with a lot of other people who feel the same way as you, and making your presence known. You can protest completely peacefully. You can join in chants, even lead chants, and you can make new friends. Most of all, you can feel powerful, because you really are making a difference.
You can find protest events near you on social media.
Britain is a great country, but only because of the people in it. And our rights will be taken away if we don’t have the courage to stand up for ourselves.
Britain’s Parliament has served as a model for other countries all around the world. Our legal system has inspired other nations’ legal systems. We are a powerful, influential country, but Britain is only as powerful as its people, and there are some very clever, very selfish people in Government right now who want to take away your power.
Don’t let them. Defend your democracy. Save your right to vote.
It’s 9:25 in the evening I have just walked back into my flat in Birmingham. At 8:15 this morning I left my flat to get the 8:30 train to London.
I took three placards, and a rucksack full of bottled water, painkillers and a change of clothes.
I took all of that stuff because I had no idea what was going to happen, or what I might get involved in.
And I still managed to disappoint myself.
I met a friend at London Euston, and we walked together to Green Park, where we met another three friends. We then all walked to Whiteall to join a crowd of thousands of others at the entrance to Downing Street, on which sits No. 10 Downing Street, the home and office of the Prime Minister, Alexander ‘Boris’ de Pfeffel Johnson.
Together, we chanted and sand our protests against Prime Minister Johnson’s decision to suspend Parliament for more than a month in the lead-up to the Brexit departure date of 31st October.
Our chants weren’t always in sync, nor were they always very loud or very polite, but we chanted and sang our anger through the air, above the barrier railings and through the metal gate which kept us out of sight of the door to No. 10.
A few of my friends left a little after 1pm. Others joined later and stayed for an hour or two. Soon, they had all left, and I remained in the crowd, with a placard in each hand. I led a few chants, joined in many more, sang along to songs like “No one voted for Boris” to the tune of ‘Seven Nation Army’.
Pretty heroic, eh?
I followed the crowd as we started marching down Whitehall, to outside Westminster Palace, Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament. We out-chanted an embarrassingly small (less than twenty?) pro-Brexit counter-protest. We danced and swayed and chanted some more to the improvised drumming of a musical protest group.
We felt powerful.
I felt powerful.
I felt like I was part of something, something huge and vital and full of furious passion. I felt like we might make a difference, My knees shook with nerves as I led a hundred people in a chant of “When I say ‘Boris’, you say ‘Liar'” but it was exhilirating and intoxicating, especially because everybody had a go at chant leading, at hitting the rhythm of call-and-response. My voice was already hoarse, but I did what I could to keep up, still holding those placards high.
So heroic, right?
By 4pm, that gathering petered out and dispersed. I sat down for the first time in six hours to eat a Boots Meal-Deal wrap, the first food I’d had all day. I took a couple of touristy photos, then got back on my feet and wandered down to the other end of Whitehall.
So goddamn heroic. It’s okay to feel attracted to me right now because of my heroism. You’re only human.
Whitehall was mostly empty by this point. There were a few protestors still standing, but most were wandering home.
At Trafalgar Square, something else was happening. Maybe a couple of hundred protestors were in the roadway of the roundabout, defying the orders of surrounding police to move. I watched for a moment. I was shattered, so I just watched.
Then, as the police started closing in, so did I.
So, so fucking heroic.
I stood with the protestors, held my placards high, and joined in the chant. Stood in the roadway, high-visibility police on all sides, telling us to move or else be arrested. I watched as a middle-aged woman was pulled out of the crowd by eight arresting police officers. I was jostled as the police closed in futher, putting pressure on the protestors to clear the road.
Uuunnng, so, just, so, huh, so heroic.
So anyway, I made a decision that I didn’t want to be arrested and quietly moved back when I was able, to watch from a less criminal distance. I handed my placards over to people who were planning to capitulate a little less than I was, and then I stood and chatted with some other protestors, and chanted a little from the sidelines, as maybe thirty or forty more committed invididuals sat down in the entrance to Whitechapel as the police lined up and looked on.
After around an hour, I handed my remaining drinking water and wandered down Northumberland Avenue looking for a tube station, couldn’t find one, chilled on one of the Golden Jubilee Bridges for a few minutes and gave my parents a ring.
I’m not trying to be macho when I say this, but I genuinely wasn’t worried about violence. I didn’t fear being arrested in the physical capacity. I wasn’t looking forwards to handcuffs, but the police were calm and polite, the protestors were loud but peaceful, and I never felt any kind of fear response.
It’s simply that I calmly, rationally decided that getting arrested would pose too much of a threat to my job, since a criminal record would likely see me fired from the financial institution that currently employs me.
So I left. I left the actual protesting, the civil disobedience, to people who either had less to lose than I had, or who cared enough to lose more than I was willing to sacrifice.
Because I’m not a hero. I’m an arsehole, and a hypocrite, and my cowardice is destroying my own country.
On the way to Downing Street and outside of it, my friends and I chatted about how the really wasn’t going to change things, most likely. We discussed that, by turning up, staying for a bit, then going home and leaving the place exactly as we found it, we were essentially giving permission to the Government to ignore us.
And they will ignore us.
I knew, and have said before, that peaceful, obedient protest in the legally-prescribed protesting areas is not going to force any kind of change. It will not end Parliament’s suspension, it will not force a General Election, and it won’t even force Prime Minister to pass comment on the protest itself.
“Mr Johnson, what are your thoughts on the protest outside today?”
“Well, it’s a shame they’re upset.”
“Thank you, Prime Minister.”
I knew this. I knew this, and I knew that I had been saying for years that nobody in this country will fight for change whilst their wi-fi still works and they can still eat crisps and whilst they can still watch the football.
I knew this, and yet at crunch time, I still decided to rationalise and excuse and justify my political cowardice. “Well, I’ve got a job I need to keep. And I’m tired, and self-care is important. And I need to get back to post on social media and write a blog post talking about how important protesting is.”
And I wasn’t even that scared. I just didn’t want the hassle, or the inconvenience of having to notify my workplace about an arrest record.
I walked back from the bridge to Trafalgar Square again. Took some photos of the police presence. Explained to two Australian tourists why the protest was occurring. Explained that it had been bigger a few hours ago, even if it was less than a hundred people now. Took some video as the police moved in, the 6pm cutoff for protesting in Whitechapel having come and gone. Then I entered the Charing Cross tube station with my tail between my legs and my dick receeding back inside my body and I headed back to Euston.
Parliament will still be suspended in a week.
Democracy is still going to fail.
But hey, at least my job is safe.
I’m such a hero.
This is what the arseholes want. They want us angry and frustrated, but distracted, and cautious.
Did you go out today? Did you protest? Did you get some neat selfies of yourself and your friends? Did you get a few “likes” and “loves” when you posted them online?
Did you have a nice day out, being all political and whatnot?
Great. Good. Glad you had a nice time. I did too. I got to see Big Ben covered in scaffolding.
Did you get back in time for Derek’s birthday meal at Nando’s? Weren’t too late, I hope, to join him and his twenty mates who spent the afternoon watching the Villa game?
Hey, the new ‘Dark Crystal’ show is out, you should probably watch that. And you still have the last season of ‘Orange Is The New Black’ to finish off. Shall we get a pizza in? I’m soooo tired after spending an hour outside the council building today, I don’t feel like cooking.
Hey, and I guess one of you had to stay in, to look after the kids or whatever.
Seriously, it’s fine, you need to look after yourself, I get it. Radical self-care and all that. Super important. Me too, that’s why I left the protest. Got to look after yourself.
Here’s the twist, though. Radical self-care is great because day-to-day concerns should never be more important than your health.
And I hate to be the angry voice in the room, but Johnson shutting down Parliament is not a fucking day-to-day concern.
You think your health is important? Correct, it is, and your health will get an awful lot fucking worse when we run out of medicine post-No-Deal Brexit. And it will get worse again when the bastards sell off the NHS to American healthcare companies and you can’t afford medical insurance that you’ve never had to pay before.
Yeah, your job is important, your salary is vital to you getting the next consumer product you really like. You can think back fondly to the days of having a salary after the economy nose-dives and we become a tax haven for the ultra wealthy.
Fighting for democracy is not a nice day out with a few friends. And it’s not a damn selfie. It’s whole-hearted and determined and it requires more from us than a stroll into the city centre and an “angry” react.
What We Need To Do
There were fewer protestors in London today than there were at the Aston Villa / Crystal Palace game. On the train home, I heard multiple conversations about a bad referee decision, and none about the fucking shutting down of our Parliament.
Johnson and his cabal of disaster-capitalists can ignore a few thousand people calling him names in the legal protest areas.
They cannot ignore hundreds of thousands clogging up the entire road network.
We don’t need to kick in windows and tear down bus stops and tip over parked cars to make our voices heard, we just need to get enough of us together often enough to have a material impact.
And right now, there aren’t enough of us.
Here’s how we get more.
Tell people in person, people that you work with or socialise with, how important the suspension of Parliament is to you. Don’t play into Johnson’s hands by “not discussing politics” out of politeness.
Tell them how important the suspension of Parliament is, and explain why. Explain in simple terms. Don’t talk about Brexit, don’t talk about the Tories, don’t talk about anything except this:
Shutting down Parliament takes away our right to vote.
Why? Because when we vote in elections, we vote for MPs to represent us. If Johnson can make our MPs completely powerless, then we’re not voting, we’re just drawing a cross on a meaningless piece of paper.
If the 2016 Brexit Referendum comes up, don’t talk about “non-binding results” or “Cambridge Analytica”. Talk about the fact that a single referendum can’t be used to shut down other forms of democracy, no matter the result.
Talk about the fact that even if we voted to leave the EU, we never voted to shut down Parliament. We never voted to lose our representation.
Ask your friends and colleagues if they think voting is important. If they do, find a way to convince them that shutting down Parliament is the same as taking away their vote. If the referendum is important to them, make them understand that they may never get another referendum on any subject because, with the ability to suspend Parliament, governments no longer need to worry about being held accountable for anything.
If they say that Johnson’s following through on his promises, point them to his Wikipedia page, point out all the times he’s been sacked for lying, been caught out on his lies. Ask them if they really think he’s suddenly started telling the truth.
And don’t play into his hand by portraying him as a clown. Don’t call him “Bojo”, don’t call him an idiot, or a fool. These things make him harmless, and approachable, and he knows this. Johnson is a smart, calculating and manipulative operator. We all ought to be a lot more scared of him than we are.
The same goes with Rees-Mogg, and the rest of them. Destroy their image. Break the glass. Scrape away the veneer. The current cabinet is a scary bunch of liars motivated solely by self-interest. Rees-Mogg is not a dorky public schoolboy in a top hat – he is a shrewd investor who has made millions off of Brexit already.
Don’t allow the current government to seem harmless, or bumbling, or stupid. They are determined, and intelligent, and motivated.
And whilst you’re doing all this, do it with kindess. Don’t put your colleagues and friends on the defensive. Don’t make this about political issues beyond the matter of our democratic rights. Don’t force them to account for their action, or lack of action – just give them reasons to care, as though you’re doing them a favour. Give them reasons to doubt their own apathy, to talk to their partners about it, spread the doubt a little further.
And don’t engage with detractors. If a rowdy white male football fan tries to stick is oafish oar in, ignore it. Just move on. Don’t argue, because you won’t win, because he’s not trying to win an argument – he’s trying to derail it. Brexiteers want us to get bogged down in statistics, voter turnouts, vote shares. They want technical terms like “prorogue” and “non-binding” and fucking “backstop” to be sticking points. They want us continually explaining these things over, and over, and over.
Stick to the message.
Suspending Parliament takes away our right to vote.
Be friendly. Be nice. Be helpful.
Stick to the message.
Be passionate, but not outraged.
Stick to the message.
The next step is to talk about the positive experiences you’ve had protesting. Talk about the festival-like atmosphere, the feeling of power, of conviction. Be honest. Relate how you really felt, and the reasons you would want to go back again.
Talk about feeling part of something. Of making a difference. And talk about how easy you found it, if you found it easy. If your experience at a protest was in any way rewarding, relay how rewarding it was.
Because we may not win people over solely with our cause. We may need to appeal to their ego, too.
The Next Steps
I thought I had done enough when I walked away today. But I will never have done enough until the suspension of Parliament is cancelled. Because if it goes ahead, and if it lasts, then I clearly could not have done “enough”. By, like, definition.
So there will be more protests, and marches. I will need to make more placards. I will need to keep working on my message, refining it. I’ll need to keep writing, and I’ll need to keep making sacrifices. For now, just sacrifices of my free time, my energy, and my money.
Will I have the courage to risk arrest? To fully engage in civil disobedience? Even revolt?
I hope so. But right now, I’m a coward and a hypocrite, trying to convince you to be better than me. To realise that every day we decide to rationalise away our uncertainty and our dislike of inconvenience, we hand over a little more power to Johnson and his cabal.
They don’t fear a militant oppostion. They fear a militarised one. Not militarised with weapons, but with unity, determination and coordination. They’ve never had to face anything like that before, so let’s make it an appealling prospect to as many people as possible.
If you end up being “that person in the office who’s always talking about politics,” well, a few social connections is honestly a fairly small price to pay for liberty. Hell, my career is a small price to pay for liberty. The protestors in Hong Kong are showing us exactly what they’re willing to pay for liberty, and honestly, they’re putting us to shame.
Make it normal to be political. Make it normal to be proactive. Make people feel like they can make a difference.
And if someone says they feel ashamed for not doing more, don’t rush to correct them. Just tell them “Yeah, it would have been good if you had been there.”
This is not a matter of Labour vs. Conservative or of Left Wing vs. Right Wing.
This is a matter of democracy (rule of the many) vs. oligarchy (rule of the few).
As citizens of a democratic state, the people of the United Kingdom have a fundamental right to a functioning Parliament of representative MPs.
Boris Johnson’s government is attempting to take that fundamental right away.
If Johnson succeeds, then Britain will be forced through a No-Deal Brexit without any Parliamentary oversight.
If Johnson succeeds, then he will have established a precedent by which a Prime Minister can suspend Parliament at will to shut down the democratic process of the United Kingdom during times of national crisis, when Parliament oversight is at its most vital.
Boris Johnson claims that the parliamentary suspension is because the current session has gone on for too long, and that he wants to “bring forward a new bold and ambitious domestic legislative agenda for the renewal of our country after Brexit.”
This is a lie. We know it is a lie because Dominic Raab suggested suspending Parliament specifically to exclude MPs from legislating against Brexit.
Boris Johnson used the “Brexit Bus” to lie to the public, and later lied to the public again about his involvement in the original lie, as well as manipulating search engine algorithms to cover his tracks.
Boris Johnson has not suddenly started telling the truth. He has not suddenly ended his career-long trend of lying to suit his own agenda just in time to suspend Parliament for legitimate reasons.
Boris Johnson is using Parliament’s own rules to do all of this. These rules have been used in the past. These rules must be changed. The fact that Boris Johnson can do this does not excuse him from blame for actually doing it.
Arguments that “this is how British government works” are made in bad faith. This should not be how any democracy works. Our system of government must be changed
The suspension of Parliament is being done for dishonest reasons, to deliver a disastrous outcome based on a dishonest referendum campaign.
The suspension of Parliament costs the British People their democratic rights and serves only the agenda of a few wealthy British oligarchs.
Anyone who claims that the suspension of Parliament is anything other than an attempt to shut down democracy is promoting a false narrative.
Any member of the media who does not immediately call out such claims as the lies they are is effectively collaborating with an anti-democratic regime.
The Good News
You can fight the anti-democratic agenda by getting out and joining some protests and marches.
If you can’t physically join a protest, share the details of the protests on social media. If you hear people complaining about the suspension of Parliament, encourage them to go to protests themselves. Share articles which call out Johnson and his government on their lies. Write your own posts explaining how you feel, and why.
If you’re going to a protest, be sensible:
Take plenty of drinking water.
Take suntan lotion.
Take a snack.
Wear shoes you can comfortably stand around in all day.
Bring chalk, so you can make non-permanent graffiti.
Make sure you know your message. Practice explaining what you believe in, whilst you’re on the way to the protest.
Take photos showing how many people are attending the protest with you. Share those photos on social media. Make everyone see how much opposition there is to the plans of Johnson’s government.
We need to make our presence known, and we need to make our convictions irrefutable. We need to drown out the government’s lies with our combined voices.
We need to force them to abandon their selfish agenda and, for once, put the people first.
The suspension of Parliament in September 2019 is not about ending the current session because it has “gone on for too long.”
Dominic Raab suggested suspending Parliament in order to force through Brexit in early June 2019:
The Tory leadership contender Dominic Raab has said the possibility of sidelining parliament to force through Brexit should not be ruled out, as to do so would weaken the UK’s negotiating position in Brussels.
“I think it’s wrong to rule out any tool to make sure that we leave by the end of October,” Raab told BBC Radio 4’s Today programme, as the Conservative party reels from its disastrous results in the European election, in which Eurosceptic voters flocked to the Brexit party.
Any claims that the suspension of Parliament serves any other purpose are untrue.
2 – A No-Deal Brexit Will Harm The NHS, Despite Johnson’s Pledges To Support The Health Service
Boris Johnson has pledged to support the NHS, but by forcing through a No-Deal Brexit and removing the rights of EU nationals to remain in the UK, he is putting at risk 9.5% of the NHS’s doctors.
9.5% of doctors and 6.4% of nurses are EU nationals
Nationals of other EU countries make up 9.5% of doctors in England’s hospital and community health services. They also make up 6.4% of all nurses and 5.7% of scientific, therapeutic and technical staff. The percentage of doctors and nurses with EU nationality grew between 2009 and 2016. Since 2016, the percentage of EU nurses has fallen.
A No-Deal Brexit will make the already-understaffed NHS unsupportable, despite Johnson’s claims that he wishes to support it. As the NHS struggles more and more to provide adequate levels of service, it becomes easier to characterise it as being unfit for purpose.
I’m really tired. I wanted to spend my free time after work this week making plans for a new Improv show I’m putting together. I wanted to play Kerbal Space Program, and finally finish my massively complex mission to Duna. I wanted to finish Season 2 of ‘Mindhunter’ and whinge some more on Twitter about Rey’s flip-phone lightsaber in the new Star Wars trailer. I wanted to finish another couple of chapters of the trash sci-fi book I’m writing.
Instead, I’m writing letters to my MP. I’m sharing links to organised protest events on Reddit. I’m trying to get as many of my friends as possible onto a train down to London at the weekend. I’m trying to work out how I’m going to make a placard and what to put on it. I’m trying to figure out how I can do all this, and take part in a possible general strike, whilst also keeping the full-time job I need to maintain my vegan cheese addiction.
And I’m barely making 1% of the effort that other people have been making for months to try and end the horrible political mess we’re currently in.
There is still hope that we can stop Johnson’s government from abusing its power, deminishing our democracy and dragging us through a disastrous No-Deal Brexit. We might be able to make a difference.
But sadly, we’re going to have to put ourselves through hell for the next few weeks. We’re all going to have to spend a lot of our free time feeling miserable and tired and angry.
We’re going to have to learn the talking points, we’re going to have stand around for hours in a lot of protests, and we’re going to have to sacrifice a lot of our free time. We may have to make ourselves vulnerable to arrest, to attack from Brexiteers, to abuse and denigration.
We have to make our voices heard. We now have to affect the change that we want for ourselves. We have to support each other, and be strong for one another, and fight twice as hard for every person who is unable to join us.
We have to be resolute and fearless.
I will be at local Midlands protests over the next few days. I will be joining the Downing Street protest on Saturday. I will be doing whatever I can, whilst hopefully not losing my job or getting arrested, to defend our democracy and defeat the ambitions of a few wealthy men in London.
And if we succeed, I may do some of the stuff I actually wanted to do.