It’s still hard for me to talk about this, but, I accidentally altered the course of human history during a most regrettable attempt to be funny. It was about six weeks before the historic Brexit vote, and I was rooming with a friend in London during my semester studying abroad for my Bachelor’s degree in Journalism from Princeton University. My roommate had some “mates” over after the Manchester United v. Bournemouth soccer- errr, I mean…football- match. One of the rowdier fellows began lambasting the European Union, and all the hardship that it has brought to “cheese farmers.” Instead of pointing out that cheese is not, and cannot be, “farmed,” another gentlemen expressed that the present hardship that cheese farmers have been experiencing had nothing to do with continental trade agreements. Instead, the man explained, the ongoing cheese farming plight resulted from irresponsible cheese speculation at the New York Stock Exchange.
Although I had a continuing opportunity to say nothing, I felt an overwhelming need to never again hear a drunk “bloke” insist that cheese was the direct result of photosynthesis. So, I playfully chimed in, “During the Brexit vote, we should write in ‘Ralph Nader.’” Only one person felt compelled to acknowledge my humor by retorting (with his mouth) “L-O-L.” Another guy, Nate, inquired “Who’s Ralph, uh, Ralph Whomever?”
“Ralph Nader. A lot of people give Nader a hard time for ‘spoiling’ the presidential election in the year 2000, resulting in Bush becoming president; however, it’s much more accurate to say that the electoral college system is an inherently unfair system that-”
“Awww fuck off, mate!” Someone else shouted as they chucked an almost empty beer can at me. I took his advice and fucked off. The two hooligans then returned to their ale-fueled shouting match about the impact of international trade agreements on local farming economies. I, for one, thought this whole episode would be forgotten. It wasn’t.
The following day, I logged onto Facebook, only to find that Nate had invited me to a Facebook group called “Write in ‘Ralph Nader’ on Your Brexit Ballot!” I rubbed my eyes, as if there was some obstruction of my vision, and re-read the title of the Facebook group. Upon my second reading, I discovered that the group was called “Write in ‘Ralph Nader’ on Your Brexit Ballot!” which is exactly what I had originally feared.
I joined the group, and this is what I saw:
Write in ‘Ralph Nader’ on Your Brexit Ballots!
Alright mates, we’ve all been watching the same racket about this Brexit business. Our worthless members of Parliament are feeding us contradicting batches of bullshit about the European Union. Some make it sound like a fucking paradise while others see mayhem and the total collapse of our once great empire. I for one am sick of the lies and sick of the bullshit, and I thought you might be too. So, I did some digging and it turns out we actually have a third option.
During the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921, Parliament passed a bunch of laws that were supposed to assist Parliament with the final unification of the British Isles, while creating the sovereign nation of Ireland. These laws were supposed to be passed for negotiating the unification only, but no specific expiration date was included in the legislation. Therefore, they would have to be intentionally repealed after their utility had expired. Among these laws was the “Parliamentary Referendum Act of 1921,” which, in a nutshell, said that if Parliament was too weak or stupid to make a decision for the public, and decided to put the controversy to a Ballot Referendum, then Parliament could not limit the public’s responses to the options provided. It further stated that all responses made during a Ballot Referendum must be recorded, reported, and the results of the referendum would govern the future of the United Kingdom.
The catch is, that by the time the unification was complete, the world was plunged into an economic depression, which led seamlessly into a global war. With short memories and immense problems, Parliament forgot to repeal the unification policies, and it remains in effect to this day.
In other words, Write-ins must be counted and the results must be honored.
Put differently, RALPH NADER can WIN BREXIT.
So, let’s show these arseholes a thing or two about democracy, and write in RALPH NADER on your BREXIT BALLOT.
Despite the fact that the Facebook group had only existed for seven hours, I was the fourteen thousand and seventh member to join. I immediately messaged the group moderators asking them to take down the page, but they did not respond. I then tried countless times from several different cell phones to contact Nate directly; but he would not take my calls, and no one would tell me where he lived. Over the next six weeks, I watched in horror as the number of members on the Facebook group soared, and the concept of writing in Ralph Nader gained national traction.
Members of the Liberal Democrat party in Parliament scrambled to finish the Unification Treaty promise by repealing the Parliamentary Referendum Act of 1921; however every opinion poll indicated that those opposed to leaving the European Union were six times more likely to say they would “probably” or “definitely” write in Ralph Nader than those who favored leaving the European Union. This prompted the far-right dairy lobby to pressure the Conservative Party and its parliamentary coalition to block any efforts at the repeal. A major showdown in Parliament over whether or not to pass an emergency repeal of the Parliamentary Referendum Act resulted in a headline in The Guardian that read: “Cheese Farmers Block Write-In Repeal.”
I was physically ill with stress throughout this entire nightmare. All I did was make a little joke in my own house! And now that joke – the one that nobody even laughed at – was about to deliver a deathblow to sensible international policy, and perhaps even to democracy as a form of government.
Ten days before the Brexit vote, I chanced upon Nate in the tube while waiting for my train. “Nate!” I shouted as I jogged toward him along the subway platform. “Nathan!” I said again when I got to him. I bent slightly to catch my breath, giving Nate time to remove his headphones so he could hear my frantic diatribe. “Nate, this isn’t fucking funny dude. You need to delete that Facebook Group- or at least tell everyone it’s a joke and they shouldn’t write-in Ralph Nader or anyone else! The Brexit vote is a big, big deal, and it literally is going to set the tone for the fate of the human species, either toward a global community, or toward isolated factions fighting for dominance with either weapons or currency. Nate, you have to fucking put an end to this!” Just then, the train that Nate was waiting for came rushing along the rails and pulled to a stop alongside us. We both paused and stared at each other while the deafening whirring noise faded, and was followed by a chime and a warm female voice that said “Please mind the gap.” The doors opened, and Nate finally broke his silence. “Nah,” was all he said. Then put his headphones back on as he boarded his train, and it sped away.
The next day I was shopping at the market, when I faintly heard “Write in Ralph. Write in Ralph? Will you write in Ralph? Write in Ralph.” I followed my ears towards the sound, and near one of the food court stalls I encountered two university students wearing “Write in Ralph” T-shirts and handing out “Write in Ralph” leaflets.
“Why?” I asked them, with tears in my eyes and my hands shaking slightly.
“Because it’s funny,” was all one of them said, then went back to handing out leaflets. “Write in Ralph? Write in Ralph. Will you write in Ralph?”
*****
On the day of the Brexit vote, the group membership of “Write in ‘Ralph Nader’ on Your Brexit Ballot!” had reached nearly four million members. I wasn’t even a citizen. I wasn’t even able to vote! From beneath a blanket in my dim London flat, I watched in horror as exit poll respondent after exit poll respondent looked to the camera and proudly proclaimed “I wrote in Ralph Nader!”
When the polls closed, the British Broadcasting Company announced the results. A dead-eyed and sick looking news anchor explained, not just to a confused nation, but to the citizens of a dumb-struck planet that the results of the Brexit Vote were as follows:
Should we exit the European Union?
Yes – 16,410,742 No – 16,141,241 Ralph Nader – 1,206,943
Commerce screeched to a halt that day as the pro European Union voters burned Ralph Nader in effigy in the streets. Weeping Naderites (as they’d begun to call themselves) cried into news cameras expressing that they didn’t think their one vote would make a difference. It was just a gag! Can we hold a second vote, and take it seriously this time?
“Cheese obliterates global unity” A headline in The Independent read.
“Gag votes alter human history” A headline in The Guardian claimed.
“What the F*$& Just Happened?” Begged a headline in The Observer.
My semester ended, and I had packed my belongings and cleaned up my room. I wheeled my suitcase into the living room, setting it beside the front door. “Well,” I said to my roommate, who remained on the couch during my farewell. “Thanks again for letting me, uh, for letting me room with you for a bit.” He did not smile, nor even blink. “It’s probably best that we don’t stay in touch.” He said. “Yeah, yeah. That’s probably best.” I agreed, then I set my key on the counter and wheeled my suitcases into the hallway, and shut the door behind me.
Back in America, no one knows what role I played in the Brexit ordeal, but I’m still haunted by my involvement. I wish I could say that I learned something from this. Unfortunately, after ample therapy, I still cannot tease out the lesson that I should have gleaned from this experience. While I continue to reflect on my actions and their consequences, I would just like you to know that I am very sorry.
