Pauline Hanson, Brexit, and joy

This month marks a decade since Britain took a long look in the mirror, a glance at its friendly, peaceful neighbours, and then, finally given the opportunity, proceeded to punch itself squarely in the face.

Ten years is a long time, and there has been no shortage of attempts to explain why Britain decided to cleave itself from its largest trading partner and a bunch of valuable allies. The anniversary has opened up the conversation once again.

The Washington Post calls the eventual outcome “inconclusive”, which is largely unhelpful. The Australian marked the vote by calling it “one of the most joyous, hopeful events in the modern history of Western civilisation”. If this was designed as rage bait, it was highly successful. If it was meant to be serious analysis, it was highly stupid. 

Actual economic analysis has found that the pound is below its pre-EU referendum level, growth has slowed, trade has been damaged by border friction, uncertainty has sapped business investment, employment has suffered, and a majority now back rejoining the bloc. Which does sound pretty conclusive and really does not sound like a highlight of human existence to rival Ancient Greece.

Beyond the quantifiable, Brexit also did something else. It shifted the vibes.

Let’s not pretend Britain was a hotbed of cool in 2015. Cultural touchstones of that year included Labour leader Ed Miliband failing to eat a bacon sandwich and the admittedly iconic “what a sad little life, Jane" Come Dine With Me episode.

But overnight, the Brexit vote shifted the perception of the country from a shrunken but culturally significant global power to a distant, mean, and unstable little island. That impression has only been compounded by the coming appointment of a seventh Prime Minister since June 2016. Burkina Faso, which has experienced five coups since 2015, has had fewer leaders in that time than the UK.

The vibes and fears that defined Brexit have not been overcome by it. Instead, they have come to define the country and propel the campaign’s architect, Nigel Farage, to the cusp of Downing Street.

Which brings us, not so nicely, to Pauline Hanson.

This week, Australia’s Racist Ranga defended Karl Stefanovic's interview with well-known Nazi, Tommy Robinson, and called on the country to “bring back Paul Hogan and Norman Gunston”. Hogan is 86 and suffers from retroperitoneal fibrosis, while Gunston is a fictional character, so good luck with that.

Hanson and her party are riding a surge of support powered by the same gripes and struggles that led to Brexit. In particular, Aussies in their 40s and 50s are struggling with low wages growth, rising inequality, and falling rates of home ownership. Support for One Nation is highest among this generation, at a whopping 43%.

The world seems hard. The world is hard for many. What links Hanson and Brexit (and Trump and Marine Le Pen and countless others) is that they are responding (in a fashion) to legitimate, longstanding concerns that have been ignored for far too long. 

Real solutions to these problems exist, but are either ignored by short term politicians, poorly communicated by those trying to do good, or simply not trusted to work by an electorate that has lost faith in elected representatives.

Punching down and targeting groups that are blameless but seemingly easy to blame (the EU, immigrants, old people, young people, women etc.) is a simple means of winning votes. It’s a race to the bottom, and we keep finding people willing to dig real deep. 

This entire approach doesn’t just rely on harsh economic realities. Countries go through boom and bust without swinging hard to the right. Instead, there has to be a combination of tough financial conditions (tick) and bad vibes. And right now, the vibes are way off. 

We know this because every single week, we write about it. Loneliness (sorry, solomaxxing), digital overload and AI, climate anxiety, a hyper fixation on wellness, a hyper fixation on whimsy, the manosphere, trad wives, and a list that could extend far beyond the bounds of this newsletter, even in its longer form.

So as much as plenty (and we really do mean plenty) of action is required to address the economic issues we all face, we cannot ignore the vibes. 

The answer to this current grim, grinding atmosphere currently enveloping apparently everything is joy.

Joyful people can experience immense frustration, even anger, with the state of the world, without turning on one another or on more vulnerable peers.

Finding and holding onto joy is undoubtedly hard. Life can chip away at pleasure on a good day, let alone right now. 

But perhaps two recent examples can help point the way. 

First, a new report on Victoria's vinyl music ecosystem found that the entire enterprise exists because “artists and labels choose to build it, one pressing run at a time". The joy of listening to music in its purest form is possible because people work at it and choose it, every day, for years on end.

Second, if you’re looking for how to find joy, a recent episode of the Ezra Klein podcast with writer Gary Shteyngart is a good start.

If the author of a dystopian novel about a world that is hypervisual, looks-obsessed, wellness-crazed, and postliterate can also churn out a collection of essays on finding pleasure in watches, the perfect suit, and countless martinis, maybe there’s hope for us all.