Day 17 – Emergency Hospital in Glasgow

Sister Louisa Jordan, CWGC Commemorative Certificate.

There is to be a temporary emergency hospital established at the Scottish Events Campus in Glasgow. Mrs. Sturgeon, the First Minister wrote on Twitter . . .

“The temporary hospital being created at the SEC will be named the NHS Louisa Jordan. Louisa was born in Maryhill and served as a nurse with the Scottish Women’s Hospital in Serbia during WW1. You can learn more about this inspiring woman here . . .”.

Nursing Sister Louisa Jordan, Scottish Women’s Hospital, born on 24 July 1878 at 279 Gairbraid Street, Maryhill, Glasgow, was the only daughter of Henry Jordan, a White Lead and Paint Mixer, and Helen Jordan, of 30 Kelvinside Avenue, Glasgow.

Her siblings were David and Thomas.

In 1901, she was employed as a Mantle Maker, then after she qualified as a nurse she went to work at Crumpsall Infirmary in Manchester and returned to Scotland to work in Shotts Fever Hospital. Before she left for Serbia she was living and working in Buckhaven, a mining community in Fife as a Queens nurse (district nurse).

She signed up with the SWH as a nurse on 1 December 1914 and joined the 1st Serbian unit under the command of Dr Eleanor Soltua. They departed from Southampton in mid-December at a time when Serbia had lost the opening battlefield exchanges of WW1, but by time they arrived in Salonika, the Serb’s had gone on the offensive and pushed back the Austrian/Hungarian forces, claiming the first victory of WW1.

On arrival at Salonika the unit were sent up Kraguievac a city 100 miles south of Belgrade. Although the fighting at that time was minimal there was still a massive amount of work to be done, Serbia was well short of medical facilities.

Louise Fraser wrote:

“Some of the men looked barely human, they were so wasted with fever, and all were terribly filthy and verminous, All had poisoned wounds, but the worst of it was that, the bed sores they got from neglect were worse than the original wound.”

Despite the work load Louisa wrote in her diary “we are quite a happy family” – the early days generally seemed to be easy going.

However by February typhus had broken out. Typhus is a cold weather disease, spread by body lice and thrives in overcrowded, dirty conditions. Kraguievac met all the requirements for this killer. By the middle of February a typhus ward was up and running and Louisa, who had some experience having worked in Shotts Fever Hospital, was in charge. Also working with typhus in the wards at Kraguievac was Dr Elizabeth Ross. She was not a member of the SWH and had travelled to Serbia alone when war broke out and had been assigned the typhus wards of a Military Hospital. Louisa and Elizabeth knew each other well and when Elizabeth became ill with typhus she helped nurse her but sadly Elizabeth died on February 14 1915. “We really felt we had lost one of our own” wrote Louisa. Sadly, this would be one of last entries in her diary as a few days later she died of typhus, soon after Madge Fraser and Augusta Minshull also succumbed to the epidemic.

She died of typhus in Serbia on 6 March 1915, age 36, is buried in Chela Kula Military Cemetery, and commemorated at Wilton church Glasgow and on the Buckhaven War Memorial.

The people of Serbia have never forgotten the remarkable courage and self-sacrifice shown by these women and today at Kraguievac they are remembered each year with dedicated ceremony.

CWGC Register for Chela Kula Cemetery, Serbia.
Detail of CWGC Register Entry for Sister Louisa Jordan.


THe CWGC web site has this information about the Cemetery . . .

Nis, the ancient capital of Serbia, was the seat of the Serbian Government from the 25th July 1914 until November 1915. From November 1915 to October 1918 it was in Bulgarian hands. On the east side of the town, four miles from the railway station, is the Chela Kula Military Hospital (the name refers to the “tower of skulls” made by the Turks in 1809) and the great Military Cemetery which contains French, Austrian, Hungarian and Bulgarian plots, besides Serbian graves. The British plot, in the South-West part, is enclosed by a low granite wall. The British plot contains the graves of 26 soldiers from the United Kingdom, seven Red Cross nurses, three sailors of the Royal Navy and three unidentified Marines. Of the 26 soldiers, 25 belonged to the R.A.S.C. (M.T.) and died of influenza after the Armistice with Bulgaria. Of the nurses, five belonged to the Scottish Women’s Hospital. Two special memorials record the names of a sailor and a Marine, buried at Belgrade in 1915, whose graves could not be found. Thirty-eight of the British graves were brought in from BELGRADE (NOVO GROBLJE) CEMETERY, NISH BRITISH CEMETERY, VRANJE BRITISH CEMETERY and other burial grounds.

I have not been able to establish who the Louise Fraser mentioned above was, Possibly a fellow nurse ?

See also :

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Day 15 – The Stir is going Crazy

Austrian Tyrol. Schloss Fernstein, Fernpass. 18 April 2007.
Nothing to do with today’s news, but a hark back to happier times, passing through Austria on our way to Torri del Benaco on Lake Garda in Italy..

Nothing much to report fortunately. The Guardian online newspaper is thoroughly enjoying itself, gradually filling up with Coronavirus articles in a sort of Coronavirus feeding frenzy. The old adage that what sells newspapers (or used to sell newspapers when they were on sale at every street corner) is “FUD” – fear, uncertainty and doubt is true at every turn. Never was so much wordage typed by so few for the spreading of alarm and despondency. The only part of the paper useful at this time are the daily crosswords. If they really wanted to help they would increase the number of puzzles available daily, and cut down on the verbiage which tells us nothing constructive.

Brexit has disappeared entirely and the obvious lessons of today where the supermarkets simply cannot cope with the demand for deliveries and its likely repeat in January of 2021 when the Channel crossing of goods from the Continent will be effectively stopped by a failure to negotiate a withdrawal agreement (presented as a triumph for independence) will cause food shortages such as have never been seen before even during the war when shipping was being sunk at greatest rate.

Anent the above. I have just checked the Tesco web site and there are no deliveries available up to 19th April and the next possible dates are not yet displayed. The Chief Medical Officer is laid up with the virus, so his deputy is filling in and she cheerfully tells us that the restrictions might need to go on for as long as 6 months. Unless the supermarkets can train up lots more drivers and associated staff and hire more vans I foresee some of the housebound folk (like us) hitting the buffers foodwise long before then. If the shop, Mitchells, in Castle Douglas doesn’t go under with sickness and is able to maintain deliveries we might be living on vegetable soup and eggs and possibly fish from time to time (fish is expensive stuff these days) so we will all be slim, but healthy and constipation will cease to be a “thing”.

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Day 12 – Love your Neighbour – Mitchell’s to the rescue

A relief from the endless coronavirus news

Some weeks ago we started having some pictures framed. One of those things you mean to do one day but somehow “one day” is slow in arriving. So finally we bit the bullet, gritted our teeth, girded up our loins (add whatever metaphor you like here) and pushed open the picture framers door. There seem to be two ladies on duty and both are very helpful and knowledgeable and give one confidence about leaving your precious pics in their hands. They have proved worthy of that confidence and we are pleased with the results they have wrought between them.

John Wilson Carmichael.
Lincoln Cathedral from the Brayford Pool.

One of the last pictures we took in was “Lincoln Cathedral from the Brayford” by John Wilson Carmichael. This was to replace the same picture we have had for many years (40 years ?) and which has become faded by the sunlight over time. Then the self isolation struck, and the shop owner, who we had only ever spoken to briefly by way of business, brought the finished article to our front door. She placed it in the porch (fortunately it was already paid for) and with a wave or two, departed. We had a notice in the porch by that time to say we were self isolating, which presumably she saw, and that evening to our surprise there was a Tesco shopping bag with few groceries, parked in the porch.

We, of course had no idea who the donor might be, but next day, by some incredibly astute detective work via Next Door I was able to find out who dunnit, and Lo !, it was the picture framing lady, whose name we now know. Since then we have had many conversations, she has offered to run errands for us, for which we are very grateful, and told us of things we didn’t know. Today she told us of a shop and wholesaler in Castle Douglas called Mitchells who will deliver fresh veg, fresh fish, and milk and eggs. So we found out their phone number from the web and placed an order. They were very helpful and promised delivery on Tuesday, no cash in advance, they propose to leave an invoice on which will be their bank details in the hope that we will pay up, which we undoubtedly will if the virus hasn’t carried us off by then.

Our cleaning lady, who refused payment for her last planned session which we cancelled, has also offered to assist in any way she can, and we have phoned her once or twice because she has young children, to see if we have anything of which she is short – so far she claims to be OK.

People, who were not alive at the time, often refer to how things were during WW2, as though it was a time of bliss and “blitz spirit”, but this coming together in adversity does give those of my readers born after the event, some small idea of how things were. But don’t forget that there are many scams afoot today by evil people and agencies, who seek to gain financial or other benefits from this situation, and these people were there too in the war, and some did very well out of it.

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Day 11 – Sad Rhubarb, Tesco arrives, and Clapping for Carers

The Rhubarb – “Victoria” – is spouting bravely but looks distinctly pale to me – more so that in the photo above. It is growing in a very light soil with a great admixture of old vegetable material which is probably somewhat acidic, so I have given it a dose of lime pellets and a good watering with tomato fertiliser for the sake of the minerals in the latter.

We got a message early to say that the delivery (in a 3.00 pm to 7.00 pm time slot) would be between 3.00 pm and 4.00 pm. Soon after 2.00 pm, jut s we were getting some lunch so as to be ready by 3.00 pm the doorbell rang and we rushed out to find a collection of Tesco bags on the doorstep. W are not allowed to open the door in order to speak to the delivery man, so I had put out a thank you notice beforehand. He gave us a cheery wave, climbed into his cab and backed off down our cul-de-sac. Then of course we began the unpacking with great dissension about whether things should be washed, and how things should be dealt with eg : a plastic bag of bread rolls. We can wipe the outside, but how do we know the contents are sterile ? Anyway, we got it done eventually but it was a slow process so lunch took place somewhat later than planned. We only had two items “not available, and two items substituted quite satisfactorily. We are limited to three items of any one sort. Normally at Tesco we would buy 6 containers of milk at a time and then they last us the best part of a week. So at best we can only get three, milk itself seems to be in short supply, and there is no hope of getting a delivery more than once a week at the very best. We have laid in tins of evaporated milk so we shall be breaking into that soon.

Tonight we were asked to go outside and “clap for the carers”. Our little road had three houses in it, all with elderly residents and we didn’t hear or see any activity whatsoever. All of us in the road have good reason to be grateful to the NHS and social services but I think the idea of clapping into a dark silence did not appeal.

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Day 10 . . . The Perils of Online Grocery Shopping . . . and Books

74 days to go . . .

We just checked our Tesco delivery order due tomorrow. About half the items were “unavailable” including odd things like lemonade. Is the factory struck down with coronavirus, has the import of fruit stopped for the same reason or are people stock piling lemonade ? I think we should be told. But, for good or ill, we tried adding a few items which seemed to adhere satisfactorily so now we wait and see. And wonder if we have to wash or sanitise (somehow) all the items once they have been left. I have never tried washing a packet of bread rolls. Perhaps plastic will come into its own during this epidemic.


I have started reading – or to be more accurate – re-reading “The Box of Delights” by John Masefield. I remember that I first heard of this when it was performed or read on Children’s Hour, so that’s going back a bit, and I was enchanted. I was also enchanted by the music which topped and tailed it, but I cannot now say what that was although I definitely knew at one time because part of the educational value of Children’s Hour was that such a piece of music would get talked about and explained so that you knew both the title and the composer. A consultation with Wikipedia discloses that it was produced on the programme in 1943, 1948, and 1955. In 1943 I would have been 10 years old, 1948 – 15, and 1955 – 22. My guess is that it must have been 1943 or 1948 as I had left home by 1955. The music was apparently “The Carol Symphony” by Victor Hely Hutchinson – a well known name in those far off days. At that time I had never heard of C. S. Lewis, and so not of “Narnia”, but looking back I can see that there are similarities between them in the fantasy element, and I was reading recently about George MacDonald a much older fantasy writer. I am sure that I read his tale, “At The Back of The North Wind” once, because John Ruskin apparently liked it, but I can remember very little about it now.

I have also today acquired “To War with Whitaker – The Wartime Diaries of the Countess of Ranfurly, 1939 – 45″ which was written about in the current edition of “Slightly Foxed” and sounded good. And waiting in the wings, so to speak, are three volumes of “A History of Britain” by Simon Schama which I spotted in “Reading Lasses” in Wigtown but omitted to buy. I messaged them and they very kindly put them on one side for me. I posted a cheque to them and then we had one of those named storms with very strong winds. Since the A75 to Newton Stewart runs alongside Wigtown Bay for much of its length we deemed it wisest to stay at home until it abated – which took a week. Then we went and collected the books and had a good feed in their café and met the lovely reading lasses again (they really are lovely). I confess to making great use of and was greatly upset to learn that it is owned by Amazon that bane of the book world. But, as with all things Amazon, Mr Bezos has grabbed the monopoly and we have little choice – and Bezos’ empire or not, it also works well and is cheap. So we have to go with the flow.

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Day 9 – the Mail Arrives . . . and goes

OH was up before me and put the letters out (weather dry fortunately) which were duly collected by our Postie and fresh mail delivered. This, of course, raises the question – are the envelopes and wrappers contaminated ? – and come to that, what about the contents ? I took the lot to the garage with a clean washing up bowl. Opened the wrappers and shook the contents into the bowl and then disposed of the wrappers in the wheelie bin or the recycling. Then I washed my hands and took the bowl indoors. Dumfries and Galloway District Council have closed all the recycling centres now so we will have to pile it up as best we may, and if we survive the virus, probably make several journeys to the dump when it re-opens.

Today I feel bored. If we had no restrictions I would be at home, doing exactly the same things as I am doing now, but free to pop out to the shops. I don’t need to go anywhere (although it might be a good idea to fire up the car and charge the battery a bit from time to time) but the knowledge that going out is prohibited turns normality into a sort of captivity – and boredom strikes.

The “Guardian” which no doubt thinks it is carrying on bravely and publishing coronavirus articles prolifically is not really actually telling us anything of informational value, so much “news” is hearsay which as the Judge in “Trial by Jury”* says to a witness “you must not tell us what she told you, that s not evidence”.

Boris Johnson spoke to us on the TV last evening and was quite good. He couldn’t quite restrain his hands, but was able to keep it down to a few twitches. He presumably had an auto-cue which hopefully had been written by someone else so he was quite rational. But even then he could not resist saying that “we will beat this thing”. I couldn’t help thinking that viruses have been around a lot longer than most of us, they are an adaptable lot. They can be kept at bay, but defeat is not a part of their philosophy. Still, it was a good try.

I foresee trouble ahead over food supplies. We had a preliminary look at the Tesco site last night to see when we might put in our next order. No slots at all up to 13th April. We are on the mid week rota, so I wondered if we should cough up a bit more money and go on to the seven day rota but if the midweek slots are all full I cannot see that the weekends are going to be any better. And in any case there are those whose only time to be at home might be weekends, so we sat at homes should not block them up. It looks as though we shall have to rely on those kind acquaintances who have offered to help to get what they can locally. Logically one would think that as time goes by, and people’s supplies are in their cupboards the demand might return to normal, but that doesn’t account for people like us who would normally not have deliveries, but who are now staying at home. With a high percentage of Oldies in our community the number of delivery requests will inevitably have risen. Tesco are recruiting more staff, will this include van drivers, and will they take on or hire extra vans ?

*I think it was “Trial by Jury” but you dear reader, will know better.

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Splendid Isolation – Day 8

Up early (by our standards) to put the outgoing post outside the front door ready for the Postie to collect and take away. But Monday is often a day without incoming post or with only unsolicited mail (aka “Junk” which we then have to recycle !) And today proved to be such a day, so at 1.00 pm, with no mail delivery the outgoing mail which hadn’t out-gone was brought back inside ready for another early start tomorrow.

The weather being fine I got some jobs done on the recycling in the garage. Since we are told this splendid isolation will last twelve weeks or possibly longer, there is going to be a lorra lorra stuff waiting to go the the recycling depot when it all ends. The bulkiest stuff is the plastic, milk containers and the like, so I have been cutting them up which reduces their volume considerably and then cramming them into cut down containers with an eye on the problems of pushing the plastic through the holes in the giant skips where plastic is collected.

Also a bit of weeding got done, some slightly acidic fertiliser was put on the baby blueberry bushes, and a batch of toilet roll cylinders was filled with potting compost and planted with a dozen or so “Scarlet Emperor” runner beans. The beauty of this is that if and when they shoot and make plants you simply put the whole thing into the ground. The cardboard by this time is pretty soggy and soon breaks down entirely, and the young plants don’t suffer any root disturbance in the process. I also found a complete runner bean pod from last years crop lying on the ground as I weeded and it had perfectly good dried beans inside, so I have potted these too to see what happens. They will have been well and truly “vernalised” by being outside in the open all winter.

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Clap for Our Carers . . .

This seems like a good idea but you really need to be somewhere where you and your neighbours are within sharing distance. We live in a quiet cul de sac and if we stood at our door very few people would know about it. But if you are better placed, well worth doing.

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Not dead yet . . .

Many flavours, but no Coronavirus apparently . . .

I have not posted on here for some time. Everything seems to have got so complicated that I found it hard to think what on earth I would actually post about that wasn’t one long trail of doom and gloom. The Brexit trail seems to have gone cold. All the indications, after the first round of Withdrawal Agreement talks started at the beginning of March were that the so called British Government were adopting a, “Them as oppressors, us fighting gallantly for freedom”, attitude, although M. Barnier in his post talks bulletin seemed to be, as usual, far more constructive whilst acknowledging that this thing wasn’t going to be easy, and pointing out the anomalies in the British position.

Things then fell into abeyance pending the next round, but enter the “deus ex machina” in the form of coronavirus 19 which has successfully got Boris off the uncomfortable hook of ignoring the agreement to which he added his signature, but has hung him on a more painful and immediate hook of having to try to think and make decisions that matter. This is not the Oxford Union, nor is it standing at the despatch box waving his arm and shaking his fist at the Leader of the Opposition, which is Boris’ conception of what being a Prime Minister is all about. He appears at Press Conferences looking as though his latest child has already arrived and that he has been up all night trying to pacify it and get it to sleep. He must be regretting that he ever conceived the notion that being Prime Minister was going to be heaven come down to earth. He claims to be a worshipper of Winston Churchill but people like my parents knew instinctively that although flawed, Winnie was the man for the job, and when he became Prime Minister in 1940, they and others heaved a collective sigh of relief and knew that now we would get on with the job even though there would be blood, sweat, toil and tears – which there were, in plenty. Being the Prime Minister in a time of crisis demands real mental ability. The stamina to work long hours, a clear view of what is needed, similar and trustworthy colleagues, and where to go and how to get knowledgeable advice rather than ideological fantasies.

Out of this melee comes Chris Whitty, our hitherto unknown Chief Medical Officer who some people from overseas have taken to be our PM, and an outsider, Rishi Sunak, newly appointed Chancellor of the Exchequer who astonishingly seems to be able to master his brief and to get a grip on his job. And meanwhile to restore a bit of a the shine to the rather tarnished appearance of those our MPs and Officials of Asian extraction who have appeared in recent times.

So, here we are learning how to be in the world but not of it. Trying to get hold of a bit of food and other household goods from time to time, classified by the economically inactive, Prit Patel, as being “economically inactive” and by others as “elderly with underlying problems”. Local businesses and individuals are showing that decency, neighbourliness and good old fashioned “love” still exist and can be brought into play. And it is these people who matter, not the twerps in the Cabinet Room at No.10 Downing Street.

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The End of Free Movement . . .

Ian Dunt

When I started this blog, some years ago, it was not my intention to populate it with cut and paste jobs from other sources. But I have been overtaken by events,and these events need recording. I am no archivist, but I hope other people are doing similar things because future historians will need all the sources and resources that they can find.

The Government, having let slip rather awkwardly the information that eugenics (the bad sort of eugenics) is on their agenda, now give us their ideology about immigrants and immigrant labour. Ian Dunt has written about it, and I can do no more than to repeat what he has said here in the hope that the few people who read this thing might in turn pass the parcel around their friends and contacts and get it more widely known. So, here goes . . .

The end of free movement: Brexit’s single achievement
By Ian Dunt
Wednesday, 19 February 2020 8:42 AM

So after four years, we finally get sight of it. The great points-based system, designed to replace free movement. No-one coming in under £25,600, unless there’s a special shortage. No-one without good English. No-one who’s self-employed. No-one without a job offer, unless they’re very highly skilled.

No more bright young people, arriving in London with dreams of making it and seeing what they can do. No more musicians getting their big break and heading out the next morning. No more care workers looking after ageing Brits. No more construction workers from Poland, out in all weather, getting the job done. No more freedom. Just the relentless, black-and-white, ham-fisted drudgery of bureaucratic requirements.

This is what it’s all been about, ultimately. We forget now. They barely bother mentioning it. But free movement was everything in the referendum. This was why the Brexit campaign skyrocketed. It is why it won. It’s why we’re leaving the EU. It’s why we’re leaving the single market. It’s why we divided the country against itself. It’s why we’re detonating our trading networks. It’s why we’ve rubbished our international reputation. All so we could do this. What is happening today is the single accomplishment of the Brexit era.

And it’s a disaster. No matter which sector you talk to – from video games to abattoirs, broadcasters to supermarket delivery, financial services to care – they all say the same thing: We need access to people.

It’s nearly always the second thing industry bodies say in connection with Brexit. There’s typically one item which is their main regulatory problem. And then immigration is number two. For pretty much everyone. But those views don’t matter anymore. They are the people who understand their sector, so they are considered experts and can be safely dismissed in favour of the great galaxy brains in Downing Street.

The anti-immigrant lobby insists this is because British employers have become hooked on cheap labour as a way to avoid investing in Brits.

They’ve never been able to provide decent evidence for this. There’s a couple of reports which suggest a very small impact on the bottom ten per cent of workers in certain sectors. One showed a 1.88% reduction in pay rises over ten years for those in the sectors with a ten percentage point increase in migrant labour, for instance. But even in these rare cases, the impact of migration pay reduction is vastly overshadowed by the impact of the financial crash. Immigration was not the cause of low wages. The 2008 recession was. Immigrants were just a useful group to blame.

Most studies show negligible or zero wage decline, at any level, in any region. Immigrants don’t just take jobs – they create them, boosting demand and pushing firms towards taking on more workers. Immigrant workers are often more entrepreneurial, more likely to increase productivity, more likely to start up a business, more likely to contribute to innovation and boost long-run UK competitiveness, more likely to open up new customer bases or overseas trade links for a company.

European immigrants are disproportionately young and highly educated. Almost twice as many of them have some form of higher education and only 15% left school at 16. Britain gains from that two times over. It doesn’t pay for the education, but it does gain from tax money they pay as workers. EU immigrants are net contributors to the public finances, unlike British citizens who are not. The Office for Budget Responsibility estimates that the lower the immigration level, the higher the national debt will be. The higher immigration is, the lower the debt becomes.

It’s as simple as that. Fewer immigrants means worse public services and more austerity. The government, not satisfied with slicing up our trading networks, is now breaking up the internal economic performance of the UK. And all this with no plan whatsoever for how it is going to improve things – no plans for improving productivity, no plans for retraining, no plans for communities outside of the south-east and London except for a railway line in a few decades’ times which half the government anyway doesn’t want to build.

The Migration Advisory Committee estimates that 70% of Europeans who arrived since 2004 would be ineligible under this system. That’s what the Home Office is aiming for. A 70% reduction in Europeans coming to Britain. And let’s not pretend they’re so keen to replace that flow with people elsewhere. All that talk of how Boris Johnson would be a secretly liberal prime is abject nonsense. The plan is consciously and explicitly to reduce immigration. To make this country more ‘British’, whatever the hell that means. To imagine that Brits will now do the jobs they refused to do before. The entire country is being reformatted to make Nigel Farage more comfortable about hearing foreign languages on a train.

What we are losing is about so much more than money. It is about being open. It is about being a place that is confident enough to take in new arrivals. Being a place new arrivals might wish to come to. We’ve lost that confidence. We’ve lost the sense that difference is beautiful, both for what it accomplishes and in its own right. And we’re replacing it with nationalism. That’s what it is. Don’t beat around the bush, or pretend it’s anything other than it is. It is nationalism. The grimy pit representing all that’s worst in political thought, the worship of uniformity, the desire to replace warm welcomes with borders and inspections.

We imagine we are restricting others, but in reality we are imprisoning ourselves. And not just because we are sabotaging our own economy. We are losing one of the greatest freedoms achieved in the history of humankind: the freedom to move. The freedom to decide that we will live somewhere else, without any bureaucrat or state official to get in our way. The freedom of the individual in space – one of the greatest accomplishments of the European project – is now barred for those of us on this island.

The loss is beyond comprehension. It is the loss of our future, the loss of our rights, and the loss of the highest aspirations of human self-development.

And all so we can fix a problem which does not exist with a solution which will make us poorer. It is a bitterly stupid and small-hearted thing to do. And we have done it to ourselves.

Ian Dunt is editor of His new book, How To Be A Liberal, is out in spring 2020.

The opinions in’s Comment and Analysis section are those of the author and are no reflection of the views of the website or its owners.

Note that the original has hyperlinks to other web sites which have been stripped out here. To see the whole thing follow the link in my preamble or use this . . .

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