Can remainers use parliament or the church to stop a no-deal brexit? | thearticle

In the duel between Jeremy Corbyn and Boris Johnson, the Labour leader has blinked. In effect admitting that he was bluffing all along, Corbyn has now withdrawn indefinitely his threat to

call a vote of confidence when Parliament reassembles next week. This is a blow for those Remainers who still live in hope that Brexit, at least in its no-deal form, can be stopped.  As a

lifelong foe of the European Union, Corbyn himself does not share such hopes. But he does intend to unseat the Prime Minister and he does not much care how. If Boris is to be brought down,

Brexit must be derailed, or at least postponed. This is a man whose core beliefs, which owe more to Marx and Miliband (not Ed but his father, Ralph) than to Mill and Erskine May, probably do

not include parliamentary democracy. Yet Parliament is the only place where last-ditch Remainers can take their stand. Corbyn must now rely on his Shadow Brexit Secretary, Sir Keir Starmer,

to organise cross-party resistance in the Commons with “a legal edge”. Unlike his boss, Sir Keir is a passionate Remainer and a Labour loyalist rather than a Marxist. (The clue is in the

name: “Keir”, after the party’s founder, Keir Hardie.) Sir Keir is also a QC, and together with other lawyers in the Remainer resistance, such as Dominic Grieve, he has already set out at

least two legislative traps, dug in the path of the Brexit juggernaut. Both involve seizing control of the parliamentary timetable. In this constitutionally dubious endeavour they have a

staunch ally in the Speaker. When asked in Biarritz whether he had confidence in John Bercow, Boris Johnson refused to do so. The enmity is undoubtedly mutual. The two traps mooted at this

week’s gathering of guerrillas were aimed at forcing the Government to ask the EU for an extension of Article 50 and preventing a prorogation of Parliament. Both involve ambushing the new

Leader of the House, Jacob Rees-Mogg, who has so far shown himself to be cool under fire. Success for the Remain camp depends on presenting a united front. Apart from the deeply divided

Labour Party, the alliance of last-ditchers includes Jo Swinson, Ian Blackford, Luciana Berger and Caroline Lucas: a motley crew, who have nothing in common apart from a hatred of Brexit in

any shape or form. Their only hope, however, lies in reaching out to Tory Remainers. For this purpose, the unifying idea is not to frustrate the 2016 referendum result, which all

Conservative MPs were elected to respect, but to prevent a no-deal Brexit, which is a more arguable point. So far, only a handful of Tories have indicated a willingness to tie the hands of

their own leader. Given that a similar number of Labour MPs are committed to vote against their leader, too, the likelihood is that the rebels on both sides will cancel one another out. What

about extra-parliamentary resistance? This ought to be Corbyn’s forte. Yet he has so far failed to mobilise mass opposition on the streets. A year ago, Remainer rallies regularly mustered

hundreds of thousands; now fatigue and disillusionment have set in. As Hallowe’en approaches, London can expect more marches, but it seems unlikely that they will be on a scale to shake the

resolve of a Prime Minister whose survival is at stake. Last but not least, there is the Archbishop of Canterbury. As Primate of the established Church, he occupies a quasi-constitutional

position that ought to guarantee his neutrality. As we have seen, however, last-ditchers such as Dominic Grieve are not averse to enlisting the Queen to sack the Prime Minister. Unlike the

Monarch, Justin Welby has shown himself willing to lend the authority of his office to a “citizens’ assembly” — which is a transparent attempt to reverse the 2016 vote. Yet this is hardly a

surprise: more than a year ago the Archbishop told a conference in Serbia that the European Union was “the greatest dream realised for human beings since the fall of the Western Roman

Empire”. This is not mere hyperbole. It is what was once known as “cant”: sanctimonious and usually hypocritical rhetoric, usually of a moral or religious nature. Dr Welby cannot really

believe what he says. The Church, a branch of which he leads, teaches that no political organisation, however worthy, can compare with the kingdom for which all Christians pray every time

they say the Lord’s Prayer. To deny that doctrine would be a grave heresy. What Dr Welby may mean is that the EU is in some sense a modern manifestation of Christendom. But just as the Holy

Roman Empire was neither holy, nor Roman, nor an empire, so the EU set its face against Christianity when it refused to mention God in the preamble to its constitution (now the Treaty of

Lisbon). The EU is a secular — and often militantly secularist — body: less an offshoot of the Church than a substitute for it. For an Archbishop of Canterbury to imply otherwise is, in the

strict sense, cant. Yet the Church of England is no better suited to stopping Brexit than Parliament. These ancient institutions are designed to save our souls and our liberties

respectively. But the complex legal and political manoeuvres now envisaged by the Starmers and, perhaps, the Welbys of this world are intended to frustrate the largest democratic vote in

British history. Sir Keir will find that even the best lawyers are bound by the law. As for Dr Welby: he should render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s — and leave God out of it.