Two Tribes

by Chris Beckett

  ‘How it should be, perhaps, in a sort of aspirational sense, but come on, Phil, you don’t really want us to abandon border controls right here and now in the world we actually live in, do you? It would be chaos. Our systems would be completely overwhelmed. Communities would fall apart.’

  Phil shrugged. ‘Well, okay, but this is silly, Harry. No one is proposing that we abandon border controls completely!’

  ‘Exactly! No one is. But by telling the story the way we do, by presenting ourselves as for immigration – and therefore good, generous, welcoming, tolerant – and presenting our political opponents as against it – and therefore bad, narrow, racist, bigoted – we magically exonerate ourselves from responsibility for the ugliness of border controls and project all the blame for them on to the other lot, even though we ourselves accept such things as necessary evils. Do you not see how dishonest that is?’

  He watched Phil consider this: clever, donnish, with his long thin limbs and his shaven head. ‘Particularly,’ Harry added, ‘when you take into account that people like you and me tend to live in largely white British areas, where very few recent immigrants could afford to live.’

  He decided not to mention the fact that Phil and Ellie had actually moved to their present home south of the river in order to be in the catchment area of a good (and largely white) school.

  ‘Your politics seem to have moved to the right lately, Harry,’ Phil observed as they trudged back from the pub, the sky already darkening. ‘I used to think of you as more of a lefty than me.’

  Harry didn’t answer this straight away. He knew, of course, what Phil was referring to, and he knew it had to do with Michelle. Meeting her had made him want to defend people like her against the caricatures that his friends seemed to want to reduce them to. But it wasn’t just that, because the shift had begun before he met her. He was already feeling disillusioned with his own tribe when he met her and the fact that she came from outside of it had been a big part of her appeal.

  He swallowed. ‘I don’t think I’ve changed my views exactly,’ he said. ‘But what’s been striking me a lot lately is how we stage-manage things to make us look like the good guys. It’s almost as if we have to claim the moral high ground in order to be able to dismiss people we don’t want to have to listen to or care about.’

  They walked for a while in silence. The mushroomy wood was dark and cold now.

  Phil turned on the torch that was built into his phone and a barn owl was caught in its light as it glided over a nearby field with ghostly white wings. (The creatures went extinct about a century ago.) ‘There are really nasty people leading the Leave side,’ he said, speaking quite firmly. ‘Liars, haters, naked opportunists, racists. That’s a fact, Harry. It’s not just our projection. It’s a bit sentimental to pretend that everyone is equally good at heart. Sentimental and dangerous.’

  ‘All I’m saying is that the other side have done a better job of making people feel that they’ve been noticed and heard.’

  ‘Well, perhaps,’ Phil said, ‘but you could have said that about Hitler.’

  Ah, Hitler! Here he comes! All students of the period notice how the Second World War still loomed in the imaginations of people in 2016, rather as the Warring Factions period looms in ours. There must be literally millions of references to the Nazis in social media posts about Brexit. The Remain side equate their opponents with Nazis, and even coin the word ‘Quitlers’ to describe them. The Leave side liken the European Union to the Nazi Reich, and themselves to the plucky little Brits who, in British mythology, had faced the might of the German war machine alone. I suppose this helps to explain why the study of history is important and why it still continues, to a limited degree, even now when so many other aspects of intellectual life have become unaffordable luxuries. We need to cover up our nakedness, and the past is one of the places we go to find clothes.

  Harry sighs. ‘You could have said it about Hitler. But my point still stands. If our tribe can’t persuade people we’ve got their back, there are others they can turn to. It’s like borrowing money. When reputable banks aren’t interested in helping you out, you end up going to loan sharks.’

  They fell silent again, trudging along the path, and Harry wondered gloomily what Michelle was doing now, and whether she ever thought about him.

  ‘As to whether I’m still on the Left,’ he finally said, ‘I used to think I was well to the left of Blair, but now we’ve got Corbyn, and I think he’s too left wing and not pragmatic enough. I wonder sometimes where exactly is the sweet spot that would fit exactly with my own degree of leftiness? Does it even exist? Or is my problem that I want to believe that I’m one of the good guys but I actually quite like things how they are. I can’t help feeling that the kind of vaguely left-wing politics that people like us subscribe to is a bit like going to church a few generations ago: conventional piety, an outward show. It doesn’t really change the way you lead your life, but it reassures you that you’re on the right side.’

  They’d reached the road that ran in front of the cottage. There was a pavement for pedestrians on this stretch, so Phil had turned off his torch and was searching his phone for the day’s sports news. ‘Well, Marx would be with you, I suppose,’ he observed as he did so. ‘Liberal values just a fig-leaf over the— Ha! Bad luck, Harry! You were beaten three–one by Reading.’

  Back in the cottage, Ellie and the boys had found their way to a much more cheerful place in Phil’s absence. With the stove in the living room blazing, coloured lights glittering on the Christmas tree, the curtains drawn tightly against the cold and dark outside, and Nathan’s music playing, the three of them were assembling an evening meal under the old black timber beams of Karina and Richard’s large and beautiful kitchen.

  After they’d eaten and cleared the table – the same table where Harry had once sat listening to Richard and Phil roaring and thundering about Brexit – all five of them settled down to a lengthy board game called Risk and were very soon completely immersed in a loud, cheerful and protracted battle for global domination. Ellie and Harry grew tired of this after about an hour and, having allowed their forces to be overrun, they took their glasses of wine through to the living room, to sit on those beautiful sofas in front of the log-burning stove, while the other three continued their ruthless war with undiminished enthusiasm.

  ‘Remember last time we were down here together sitting round that table and everyone was banging on about the referendum?’ Harry said. ‘I was thinking about it just now – how angry and upset everyone was, how outraged – and do you know who it suddenly reminded me of? Uncle Jack! Uncle Jack and that awful friend of his he used to insist on bringing with him when he came to visit. What was his name? That chap with the little moustache and bad breath who used to tousle our hair and slip us each a fifty-pence piece? Do you remember how the two of them would sit there in the living room going on about the blecks and the wahts in their whiny, pinched Rhodesian accents?’

  Ellie pulled a bewildered face. Uncle Jack was their maternal grandfather’s older brother, who had returned to the UK from the British colony of Rhodesia when it finally became independent as Zimbabwe. ‘Oh, come on, Harry! Uncle Jack would definitely have been a Leaver!’

  ‘Of course he would. But, all the same, our Remainer script sounds exactly like those interminable conversations he used to have with old racist whatshisname with the moustache. Credulous people stirred up by leaders who are only out for themselves . . . ’ Harry counted off the points on his fingers. ‘Russian interference . . . Rabble-rousers promising them the earth . . . The country’s going to go to the dogs . . . The ones who voted for it are going to be hit the worst, but they weren’t capable of understanding what they were voting for . . . Think about it, Ellie, it’s all there! We were like a bunch of disgruntled Zimbabwean whites at the beginning of majority rule!’

  Ellie shrugged. ‘I really don’t see it.’

  ‘No really, Ellie, it’s perfect, because it’s exactly the same
thing. A formerly dominant group suddenly finding that the levers they used to pull are no longer connected to anything.’

  Ellie was unconvinced. ‘It’s not really comparable, though, is it, Harry? I mean, Brexit really will be bad for the country, especially for the people who are worst off.’

  ‘So was Zimbabwean independence, for Christ’s sake! It was economically disastrous! The agricultural sector collapsed. The currency became worthless. Et cetera, et cetera. Uncle Jack shook his head and said he and his chums had told us so all along, but he completely missed the point. Because it had to happen, didn’t it? Even if it did make things worse for a generation – or two generations, for that matter, or three – it was just one of those things that had to happen. And just like us – just like us – the one question that never once occurred to him and whatshisname was how white Rhodesians like themselves might have brought this on themselves.’

  Ellie smiled non-committally and shrugged. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you, Harry. How are you getting on with Letty? You seemed so keen to choose the right restaurant, I got the impression it was really important to you. And afterwards you told me the evening went okay, but you didn’t seem to want to talk about it, and you’ve gone completely silent ever since.’

  Harry turned his wine glass back and forth between his fingers. ‘It was fine. I think I may have worried her at one point when I got a bit contrary. You know how I sometimes do?’

  ‘Sometimes? You’re always doing it these days. Phil says he can’t tell any more whether you’re kidding or being serious.’

  ‘I’m not sure myself sometimes, to be honest. It bothered Letty a bit. But we moved on to other things, and we had a perfectly pleasant time. It certainly wasn’t a disaster. And at the end we exchanged hugs and pecks on the cheek, and agreed to meet again. As far as I can tell we both meant it. But she was going to spend Christmas in Provence with an old friend of hers who lives down there, so we said we’d be in touch in the New Year. I’ll give her a call then.’

  ‘I’m not hearing a lot of enthusiasm.’

  ‘Oh, she’s really nice. She likes a laugh. She’s bright. She’s interested in things. She’s lovely to look at. Of course it’s early days, but . . . ’

  ‘Still not getting much enthusiasm, Harry.’

  ‘No. I suppose not.’

  She shrugged. ‘Well, never mind. You can’t expect to click with everyone, even if they are nice. Maybe you just need to keep looking? You’re a good-looking man, you know, and a very lovable one too. There’ll be plenty of others interested.’

  Harry shrugged. From the dining room came the sound of a handful of dice flung down on the wooden tabletop.

  ‘It must be very hard for you, Harry,’ his sister said. ‘Having to start again at the beginning. But it’s not all bad. There are times I envy you, you know. I’m sure Phil does too. He and I are fine, don’t misunderstand me, but it would be fun in a way to start again. I mean, I know Phil loves me, but I wouldn’t mind being with someone who felt able to actually tell me so more than once in a blue moon!’

  ‘He’s a good bloke and he loves you very much.’

  ‘I know, and I’m grateful to have him. But my point is I know you feel sad and left out, and I know you could do without that at this time of your life, but it’s exciting too, isn’t it? There’s a good side to it as well as a bad one.’

  ‘You’re right, but . . . ’ He hesitated, unsure how much he wanted to tell her. ‘Okay, the truth is that I don’t believe this is to do with Letty specifically, I think it’s to do with the state of my heart. I don’t think I’m ready.’

  Ellie sighed. ‘Oh come on, Harry, you really do need to let go! You and Janet were so unhappy for such a long time. It’s been over a year now since you split up. You’re forty-six years old. Don’t waste any more time over it.’

  Again he hesitated. In the next room, Phil crowed with triumph as his forces overran some strategically important territory and Nathan howled in protest.

  ‘I’m not talking about Janet,’ Harry said quietly. ‘It’s someone else.’

  This took Ellie completely by surprise. ‘Really? Who? Since when?’

  He sighed. ‘Okay, I’ll tell you, but you’re going to think I’m being pretty stupid. I stayed over in Breckham when my car broke down on the way back from the coast, and—’

  ‘You met someone in Breckham?’ She was even more surprised now.

  ‘I stayed with this woman Michelle who lets out a room. We got talking. We drank a lot of wine. We ended up in bed together, and . . . Well, I know it’s silly but I can’t stop thinking about her.’

  ‘Is she married?’

  ‘No, she’s single. Single and childless like me. She had a child who died, in fact, so actually very like me in that respect.’

  ‘So, what’s the problem? Doesn’t she want to see you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t been in touch.’

  ‘Why not? If you really liked her, why on earth not?’

  ‘She’s not like us, Ellie. She’s a hairdresser. She left school at sixteen. I’m pretty sure she voted Leave.’

  Ellie laughed. ‘Well, whatever Phil might think, you can vote Leave and not be the devil incarnate.’

  ‘You certainly can. But—’

  ‘But you’re thinking it would be difficult to sustain a relationship with someone who didn’t share your values? It would, actually, wouldn’t it? Still, if she really meant that much to you . . . ’

  Just talking about this, just having Ellie discuss it as something that needed to be taken seriously, had made him almost lightheaded. That this odd little story could actually be spoken out loud and still remain real seemed miraculous. And he noticed to his amazement that the glass in his hand was trembling. He put it down on the coffee table, wordlessly acknowledging the strangeness of this with a half-bewildered, half-embarrassed glance at his sister.

  ‘I don’t know what’s going on in my head, Ellie. I had a lovely evening with Michelle. I honestly haven’t been that happy in another person’s company for . . . oh, I don’t know, it actually feels like for ever. But in the morning . . . well, there was this moment when she made a comment about bloody Poles coming over and stealing people’s jobs, and I thought, “What the fuck am I doing here?” I disliked her so much I could barely even look her in the eye. And I felt ashamed of myself for being so desperate as to be able to overlook the obvious gulf between us.’

  ‘And yet . . . ?’

  ‘And yet that passed. The dislike didn’t last. I realized that most people I know say equally hateful things almost routinely without even noticing it. And I actually think that part of her appeal is that she isn’t like me. Isn’t like us, I mean. Isn’t one of our kind. I know it’s a funny thing to say, but this Brexit business . . . Well, you’ve noticed me becoming rather contrary on that subject . . . I haven’t changed sides exactly, I certainly haven’t changed my personal views, but it has made me less tolerant of our own sort of people. I look at Twitter a lot – I’d be far too embarrassed to tell you just how much – and you should see the ugly sneering contempt that our tribe directs towards hers. We’re such a smug lot. It never occurs to us that, just possibly, other people might see things that we don’t see.’

  Ignoring the content of what he was saying as if it was nothing more than background noise, Ellie watched him with narrowed eyes. ‘Is she very pretty?’

  He shrugged. ‘I guess so,’ he said and then surrendered to her stern interrogative gaze and laughed. ‘Who am I kidding? Yes, she is. Very. I found her incredibly attractive physically. I was aware of it as soon as she came to the door. I even liked her voice on the phone.’

  ‘And you had a lot to drink?’

  ‘Yes, a bottle of wine each.’

  ‘And lovely sex?’

  ‘Yes. Initiated by her. Absolutely unbelievably lovely.’

  His sister nodded. ‘And the grown-up part of you is thinking that the lovely time you had with her was a lot to do with bei
ng drunk and good old-fashioned lust, and probably couldn’t be replicated in the cold light of day?’

  ‘Well, exactly.’

  ‘And yet you can’t seem to shake off the thought that just possibly it could?’

  ‘I suppose that’s it.’

  ‘Well then, you need to see her again, don’t you? See her when you’re not drunk and you’re not in bed together.’

  At this point, Harry says, he became so agitated that he could no longer even bear to stay in one place. He leapt up and began pacing about. From the dining room came another shout of triumph, this time from Josh: ‘I am now officially the king of South America!’ He could see them through the open door, the father and his two sons, all three leaning intently over the board. Phil glanced quizzically in his direction for a moment, but Nathan had just thrown the dice, so he returned his attention to the battle.

  ‘But that wouldn’t be fair to her,’ he said. ‘She needs to get on with her life. She’s thirty-eight, she could still have a kid if she got a move on. She really doesn’t need some guy who may well not be able to offer her anything barging into her life and wasting her precious time.’

  ‘Well, she’s a grown-up, isn’t she? She can make those calculations for herself.’

  Harry was elated by that thought, but Ellie was severe. ‘Of course, she might not want to see you. That’s possible, isn’t it? She might have exactly the same kind of doubts. And you’ve left it for so long! If I were her, I’d be a bit suspicious if you got back in touch with me after all this time. I’d wonder if you just fancied another shag. But if she said no, that would at least be an end to it, wouldn’t it? And if she says yes . . . well . . . who knows? Maybe you’ll find you actually do get on. The worst that could happen is an uncomfortable few hours.’ Ellie laughed, gesturing to him to sit with her again. ‘You’re in a real state about it, aren’t you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this!’

  He sat down and rubbed his hands over his face. ‘I can’t remember feeling this way since I was fifteen.’