Not for the first time, Brexit is stuck in a doldrum period. There really isn’t that much going on, at least in public. Perhaps the most notable development since my previous post is the way that Canada’s newly elected leader Mark Carney compared the damage Trump is inflicting on the US with what Britain had done to itself with Brexit. It was notable not because it was contentious but, on the contrary, because it showed how Brexit has become the internationally-recognized standard measure of economic self-harm. The only real talking point is whether it is premature to apply it to Trump.
Meanwhile, in the UK, political attention has been focused on yesterday’s various elections, whilst whatever form any ‘reset’ of UK-EU relations is going to take is shrouded in uncertainty, awaiting the Summit meeting later this month. However, with the results of those elections beginning to be known, there are good reasons to link them, at least in part, to precisely the uncertainty about the reset. In particular, the continuing Farage insurgency can be read as being in part a consequence of Labour’s attempts to de-politicise Brexit. This means that the Summit presents an opportunity not just to reset UK-EU relations, but to reset the way Brexit is, and is not, talked about within domestic politics. For until the failure of Brexit is as openly acknowledged in the UK as it is in the rest of the world, domestic politics remains stuck in its post-Brexit cul-de-sac.
The framing and scope of the Summit
The current uncertainty about the Summit is, perhaps inevitably, about the detailed provisions, about which there are many hints but, as yet, no clarity. It is also about the more symbolic issue of how its overall purpose is framed. On one account, what will be announced will be a “new strategic partnership”, encompassing trade and security, and more or less explicitly configured as a response to Donald Trump. On another account, the accent will be on defence and security, with something more like a roadmap for discussion of economic issues, although some reports suggest an extension to the existing fisheries agreement will be announced.
The first framing would suggest an explicit shift of geo-political strategy, the second a more ambiguous and less ambitious moment, defining future processes more than providing a statement of intent. Or, to put it another way, one would be a bold and dramatic event, the other a rather boring technocratic adjustment. The issue not just a matter of symbolism, however. The detailed provisions will matter, not so much in terms of immediate agreements but in terms of the scale and scope of what is identified to be within the ambit of mutually desired agreements. Thus there is a matrix of possibilities according to whether the framing is dramatic and strategic, or dull and technocratic; and whether the scope of possible agreements is extensive or limited.
In terms of the kinds of things likely to feature in the scope of possible agreements, it continues to seem likely that the government will manage to achieve what has always been its main reset ambition, a Sanitary and Phytosanitary (SPS) agreement. What will be more interesting is what the Summit will have to say about other, perhaps less widely trailed, issues. If media reports are correct, we already know that the EU have refused a UK request to discuss mutual recognition of conformity assessment bodies [1], but the fact that the request was made, and discussed at high level, suggests that the government might have a more maximalist agenda than has been publicly articulated.
Might that include seeking to join the Pan-Euro-Mediterranean (PEM) Convention, something the EU has been reported as being willing to consider? Might it include linking REACH systems of chemicals regulation? An agreement on financial services? An agreement on irregular migration? An agreement to link carbon emissions trading systems? For that matter, there is a whole possible agenda of cooperation on energy and climate change, as set out in a new report last week by the Independent Commission on UK-EU relations.
What now seems highly likely to be within scope is some form of Youth Mobility Scheme (YMS), though probably not called by this name, and there have recently been strong hints that this will happen. It is not surprising, because some agreement on this was the main EU requirement. It was therefore a folly on the government’s part that it did not embrace it positively from the outset. Indeed even now, when it is being briefed that it will happen, it is also being denied by the government.
The folly lies in losing the opportunity to demonstrate to the EU that, under Labour, the Brexity mindset has changed and, equally, in failing to challenge that mindset at home. As a result, even the limited scheme which seems likely to emerge is being described in the Brexiter media as a “migration bombshell”, and will no doubt also be presented as having been inflicted upon the UK by the EU rather than being in the mutual interests of both. More generally, the reset as a whole is already being decried in the pro-Brexit media as carrying “the stench of betrayal”, as the “backlash” against it, which I discussed last December, gathers force.
The ‘make Brexit boring’ tactic
There’s little the government could do to prevent such attacks, but it could do far more to spike the batteries of their attackers by setting out its European policy in a more positive, inspiring, way. That is especially so in the run-up to the Summit, which is going to bring the Brexiters’ full guns out, but there is little sign of it happening.
For example, writing recently in the Guardian, Europe Minister Nick Thomas-Symonds seemed at pains to make the government’s plans sound as dull and uninspiring as they could possibly be, telling us, not for the first time, that they will be guided only by “ruthless pragmatism”. At one level, this is understandable, and it would be hypocritical of me to criticize it. In July 2022 I argued for the merits of Labour taking an approach of “making Brexit boring”, and in July 2021 for a “pragmatic ‘better deal for Britain’ policy”. (I’m not suggesting that Labour’s strategists based their thinking on my blog, but if they had done then it wouldn’t look much different to what they have done in government.)
Nevertheless, the world has changed very considerably since 2021 and 2022, and even since the election last year, and that mandates, if not demands, some recalibration on policy. I don’t mean revisiting the ‘red lines’ – there is no way that doing so would be politically viable for Labour in this parliament – but rather the provision of a more upbeat and less apologetic framing. This is obviously partly justified because of the new world created by Trump, and all that means, both economically and geo-politically. It is also justified by public support for closer relations with the EU being strong. And it is further justified because it is now abundantly clear, not least from the emerging results of yesterday’s elections, that new and better ways of countering Nigel Farage’s insurgency need to be found.
As regards the latter, Thomas-Symonds misses the point when he rehearses the government’s standard line that its European policy “isn’t about politics – it’s about pragmatism” and that Britain under Labour “won’t be defined by debates and arguments of the past”. The idea, obviously, is to present the reset as series of technical fixes, free of the toxicity of Brexit. But Farage and his admirers in the Tory Party and the pro-Brexit parts of the media are still engaged in those debates and arguments.
Thus, however much the government insists it is being ‘pragmatic’ about Brexit, the Brexiters still operate within the terrain of sabotage and betrayal. And that is open to them in part because the government treats it as too politically dangerous to say what is just common knowledge around the world: that Brexit was neither sabotaged nor betrayed, it was just a terrible idea, and that is why it went so horribly wrong. The very attempt to ‘leave behind’ the politics of Brexit has the consequence of leaving them in place.
Taking on Farage
The result, and this is the key point, is that Brexit going horribly wrong has not reduced the appeal of a politics which ignores what is pragmatically possible, and indeed trades on doing so. Brexit has not discredited Farage, despite its failure, a failure which he openly acknowledges but has been allowed to slough off as the fault and responsibility of others. This leaves him free to espouse, and to garner considerable electoral support for, policies which are equally unrealistic. There are several of these, but the most obvious is the policy to leave the European Convention of Human Rights (ECHR), which, as he recently repeated, is literally the first thing he would do if he became Prime Minister. It is also, of course, a policy with much appeal in the Tory Party, and it is not at all inconceivable that, whether led by Kemi Badenoch or someone else, this will also be their policy at the next election.
Obviously there are many arguments of principle against such a policy, but, equally importantly, there are many pragmatic reasons which would make it an unworkable one, the implications for Northern Ireland and the Good Friday Agreement being only the first of them. And there is clearly a direct parallel here with Brexit, because whereas its implications for Northern Ireland were either ignored or dismissed by the Brexiters in 2016, in practice they proved to be absolutely central to the practicalities of ‘getting Brexit done’ and, to the Brexiters’ chagrin, were a major reason why, in their terms, Brexit was not done properly. It is all too easy to imagine Farage in the future, with ECHR derogation achieved and wreaking havoc, blithely dismissing the consequences as someone else’s fault.
Thus, with Brexit having neither silenced nor sidelined Farage, one important way to challenge him now is to refuse to allow him to evade responsibility for the policy he spent most of his political life advocating, and to refuse to allow him, as with the ECHR, to continue to advocate flawed, impractical policies without being reminded of that history every single time he does so. The same applies to his anti-immigration policy, given that the levels of legal migration he now complains about are the result of the post-Brexit “Aussie-style points system” he once advocated, and that the levels of irregular migration are in part the result of his advocacy of the UK’s departure from EU agreements.
From this perspective, the government’s approach, as articulated by Thomas-Symonds, is counter-productive. The politics that brought us Brexit have not disappeared with Brexit. And whilst it is true that pragmatism is needed, that is not as an alternative to a political framing but ought to be the political framing: a politics which thrives on promising what cannot pragmatically be delivered as policy is the basis for a bad politics. Bad morally, because it is dishonest; but, because it is dishonest, also bad politically, as it corrodes trust and, ultimately, corrodes democratic politics itself.
Back to the reset
In terms of the reset, then, this would mean not so much a different policy but a very different, and much more honest, articulation of that policy (perhaps including dropping the rather dull terminology of ‘the reset’). It would acknowledge, in explicit terms, as it does implicitly already, that Brexit was a mistake. Most people think that anyway, and few can doubt that Starmer does. It would also acknowledge that it is a mistake that cannot simply be reversed, at least until there is a durable cross-party consensus sufficient to give the EU confidence in a joining process, and a genuine public enthusiasm for EU membership (which isn’t just a matter of thinking Brexit damaged the economy). And it would be unapologetic that a substantially improved and deepened UK-EU relationship is the best, and currently the only, position in the face of those two realities.
Articulated in this way, other things which are currently only implicit would also fall into place. Most obvious of these is the already fairly explicit fact that the UK’s primary defence and security theatre is European. The Global Britain of the 2021 Integrated Review of Security, Defence, Development and Foreign Policy which, as I discussed at the time, sought to deny that, has already been substantially discarded by the 2023 Integrated Review Refresh, in large part because of the Ukraine War.
Now, the impact of Trump 2.0 has been to make even that largely obsolete, which will presumably be reflected in the Strategic Defence Review and the National Security Strategy, both to be published soon. Given the timing of the Summit, there is now a perfect opportunity to tie together European policy and defence policy. That is already the clear direction of travel, but the more overt it is the more strategic clarity there will be, whilst politically creating a challenge to Reform and the Tories to publicly prioritise their Brexit obsessions above the UK’s defence interests.
Less explicit, but increasingly obvious, is that the UK will prioritise its economic relationship with the EU above that with the US. That will be all the more obvious if there is a UK-EU SPS deal, which would all but certainly preclude a comprehensive Free Trade Agreement with the US. Making this more explicit need not mean abandoning any attempt at an ‘economic deal’ with the US to avoid some of Trump’s tariffs, but would show where the UK’s priorities lay.
Rachel Reeves came close to doing just this last week, saying “actually our trading relationship with Europe is arguably even more important, because they're our nearest neighbours and trading partners" but, apart from the fact that there is no ‘arguably’ about it, she was immediately undermined when “Downing Street” refused to endorse her comment (£). It’s ridiculous, but it is also politically maladroit, because it leaves the Brexiters free to present Reeves’ comments as ‘sparking outrage’, and of having led to her being “scolded” for making them, and thereby to continue to insist that a US trade deal is a great prize and should be the main priority.
Of course, they would do that anyway but (as with YMS) their attack lines land far more easily because of the government’s lack of consistency and clarity (although they are made all the more absurd by Trump’s own consistent inconsistency about doing a deal with the UK, displayed again this week). Again, this can’t be separated from Brexit, and the politics of impractical promises. A Free Trade Agreement with the US was never very likely, remains unlikely under Trump and, in any case, would be of very little economic value. If it ever did happen, it would also come with very unpopular consequences, including possibly for food standards and the NHS. It was, after all, the Brexiters who, in 2016, held up the then mooted US-EU TTIP deal as one of the reasons to leave the EU, albeit that their claims about it were largely fallacious.
So here again the refusal to ‘revisit the politics of the past’ now hamstrings Labour’s ability to engage in the politics of the present, a politics in which the present nonsense being talked about a US trade deal by Kemi Badenoch and Nigel Farage ought to be challenged in part by pointing to their past record of being utterly wrong about it.
The forthcoming Summit represents the perfect moment for the government to shift to this much more full-throated articulation of its post-Brexit strategy. Indeed, if this opportunity is not taken it is hard to see the shift ever happening. In the terms I put it earlier, that would mean framing the Summit as a moment of dramatic, strategic choice, accompanied by as extensive an agenda for new agreements as will be entertained by the EU.
The alternative would be to continue with the current approach, which in my previous post I compared with that of the spivish, dodgy businessman Arthur Daley. The unsurprising consequence of that approach is to give the impression that the government has something to hide, or to apologize for, or of which it is ashamed. That impression does not just damage the government’s credibility internationally, it also does so with voters. This necessarily assists the Brexiters, who want to make precisely the charge that the government is hiding its true agenda (i.e. rejoining by stealth). At the same time, it alienates the majority of Labour supporters (and other voters) who are all too well aware that there is no such agenda, but might find that easier to swallow if the government was less mealy-mouthed about the improvements it is pursuing.
The day before yesterday
The truism that generals always fight yesterday’s battles applies here. The decision to be fairly muted about Brexit, and to make it as dull and technocratic as possible, made tactical sense in the run-up to the 2024 election, and, at least arguably, was vindicated by the result. But it makes much less sense now, especially with the growing threat of Reform UK, as illustrated by the latest elections, because it entails silence about Farage’s ‘signature policy’. Or, more accurately, it entails silence about Farage’s political modus operandi of advocating superficially plausible and, to some, appealing policies without regard for the practicality of their implementation or the reality of their consequences.
Similarly, just as Labour are happy to keep reminding voters that the Truss mini-budget shattered the Tories’ claims to economic competence, it would be equally valid to keep alive the memory of how Brexit unmoored their claims to pragmatic government. Or, again to be more accurate, how ‘Brexitism’ did so. And, whether aimed at Reform or the Tories, the fundamental message that populist policies lead to chaos and failure is now all the easier to deliver given what is happening in Trump’s America. But it can’t be rammed home to British voters without talking about Brexit.
For Labour, now, continuing with their previous tactic amounts to fighting with one hand tied behind their back. Paradoxically, that is because whilst that tactic belongs to yesterday’s battle, its redundancy is because it ignores the past of the day before yesterday. Yet for decades Labour have been attacked for ‘having gone cap in hand to the IMF’ in 1976, and the spectre of ‘rubbish piling up in the streets’ during the Winter of Discontent is still being summoned up by their opponents. Less specifically, Labour are attacked for ‘always putting up taxes’ or ‘always borrowing too much’. They are even attacked for the policies they advocated in the ‘longest suicide note in history’ manifesto of 1983, despite not being elected. This vicious weaponization of past history has sometimes, perhaps mostly, been unjust. It has also been effective and, though without any need for injustice, Labour could learn from it by hanging Brexit around the necks of its advocates.
Once all the current election results are in there will be much analysis and agonizing about what they mean for the Labour government and for politics in general. At the same time, the coming UK-EU Summit will be a big moment in defining the nation’s post-Brexit strategy. It may, as Thomas-Symonds puts it, be guided by “ruthless pragmatism” but it could also be a ruthlessly political response to the legacy of the 2016 referendum. Being explicit about that response, including being honest about its limitations and the reasons for those limitations, might well be Labour’s best chance of seeing off Farage. It might even help to shore up Labour’s other flank, where they are vulnerable at least in part because of the constipated timidity with which the government presents its European policy.
Note
[1] This is not the mutual recognition of standards proposal I discussed in a recent post, but, as mentioned in passing there, the different issue of mutual recognition of conformity assessment. Sam Lowe’s Most Favoured Nation Substack newsletter provides an excellent account of this complex topic, and the reasons why the idea has been rejected by the EU. It also provides what I think is a well-founded criticism of the all-too-common tendency amongst some, usually anti-Brexit, social media commenters (including, occasionally, commenters on this blog) to automatically dismiss almost any ‘reset’ proposal as ‘cakeism’, ‘cherry-picking’, or ‘more British exceptionalism’.
Friday, 2 May 2025
Friday, 18 April 2025
Arthur Daley's Brexit
Anyone who comments in public on politics, especially in periods, such as we have now, when politics moves with such speed, is likely to have events make a fool of them. So it is perhaps unkind to recall articles such as Ross Clark’s in The Spectator (£) proclaiming that ‘Trump’s tariffs are a real Brexit win’, especially as other, far higher profile, people like Kemi Badenoch made the same claim. That claim, as mentioned in my previous post, was based on the fact that in Trump’s initial announcement of his ‘Liberation Day’ tariffs the UK was listed ‘only’ for the new baseline 10% tariff whereas the EU was listed for 20%.
In the vortex of events over the following days, Trump was forced to back down on most of his threats, with the principal exception of those to China, which accelerated (though, soon, he exempted phones and computers). For now, what is left is primarily the 10% baseline import tariff on all goods which applies to the EU and the UK (as do the 25% car, steel, and aluminum tariffs). And, with that, this “tangible benefit of Brexit that no one can ignore”, as the hapless Clark had put it, ceased to exist before it had even come into force.
The Brexit benefit that never was
Of course the wider situation of Trump and his tariff mayhem has not gone away, but, before considering that, it is worth reflecting on that fleeting moment. After all, it is perfectly possible, even likely, that something like it will reappear in some form or other if Trump treats the EU more badly than the UK. Or, in a similar way, I expect some Brexiters will see the government’s announcement this week that the UK is going to suspend some import tariffs as showing the value of being able to act independently of the EU.
At one level, this illustrates the sheer desperation of Brexiters to seize on anything which might revive public approval for their project. Their cause may no longer burn bright but, like a fire which has been quelled, there are still a few embers which, when the wind blows from the right direction, flare up into a flame. That resilience is a reminder of the Brexiters’ tenacity but, at the same time, a reminder that had Brexit been anything like the success they had promised, they would scarcely need to latch on to such transparently feeble justifications.
Yet, in doing so, they managed to wrongfoot many people. For example, Darren Jones, Chief Secretary to the Treasury, reluctantly accepted the tariff differential as a “Brexit dividend”. Others tried to refute the claim by arguing that the tariff level derived simply from Trump’s (absurd) ‘formula’, rather than being anything to do with Brexit. But that did not negate the fact that, under that formula, the UK was treated better than the EU. Nor did it, in itself, refute the claim to point out that any ‘gain’ would have been more than offset by the other costs of Brexit, although that is certainly true, since it was not formulated as demonstrating a net benefit.
A better response to the Clark-type claim would have been that Trump’s presidency has caused a crisis in the system of trade governance overseen by the WTO, in which so many Brexiters used to place such faith. More specifically, it has done so by exposing the world to the caprice and vindictiveness of a President who openly revels in making other countries “kiss my ass”, to use his own charmless words. That capriciousness means that he might just as easily have imposed a much higher rate on the UK than on the EU, and still might do so, and if in the future he reverts to imposing a lower rate on the UK than on the EU then that would be equally subject to revision.
Thus, whilst it is true that Brexit creates the possibility of the US (or anyone else) treating the UK and the EU differently as regards terms of trade, it is entirely unpredictable what this will mean in practice, and even more unpredictable in Trump’s hands. In itself, therefore, it can’t be claimed as a Brexit benefit. The possibility of differential treatment is a result of Brexit, but to call it a benefit of Brexit is just the tautological proposition that ‘Brexit is the benefit of Brexit’.
What Trump’s tariffs really tell us about Brexit
However, considering Trump’s tariffs, and especially what made him resile from his initial announcement, does tell us some important things about the damage of Brexit. Apart from the role of internal divisions in his administration, the reasons seem to have been, first, the robustness of China’s response; second, the less forceful but still firm EU response; third, the crash of the US stock market; and, fourth, the incipient crash of the US bond market.
As several people have commented, ‘Liberation Day’ can be seen as ‘America’s Brexit’ or, in a similar vein, as America’s ‘Liz Truss moment’. There has always been an umbilical cord between Brexit and Trumpism, as I have discussed before on this blog and, looking back, elsewhere, too. This latest episode shows their shared folly in over-estimating the power of the sovereign nation state and, as also shown by Truss’s ‘Brexit mini-budget’, the consequences of pursuing policies on the assumption that this folly is the invention of ‘the Establishment’ rather than being an empirical reality.
Unsurprisingly, about the only UK economist coming out in support of what most see as Trump’s “tariff madness” is ‘Brexit brain’ Shanker Singham, Chairman of Truss’s Growth Commission. Equally unsurprisingly, Trump is now lashing out in furious Truss-type attacks on the Chairman of the Federal Reserve.
Trump has now demonstrated that even the US is not immune to the power of other countries and blocs, and it is certainly not immune to the power of the stock, bond, and currency markets. Lewis Goodall of the News Agents deserves credit for having spelt this out even before Trump’s volte-face, making the point that: “One way or another, America cannot escape the limitations and strictures the global economy places on every nation, even the most powerful. Trump may be done with globalism: globalism may not be done with him.”
That insight was validated by the climb-down, and further evidenced by the subsequent exemption of Chinese phones and computers. The US simply cannot afford to detach itself from the global economy, or at least is not willing to live with the consequences of doing so. The big lie of nationalist populism is to conjure up an image of the past (often a past that never existed, or was far less desirable than presented) and promise to recreate it via a single great, transformative national act. Brexit showed this lie. Now Trump’s ‘Liberation Day’ has shown it again. The factories aren’t going to come back to the rust belt. They were never going to, and they never will.
What this means for the UK
The fact that even the most powerful country in the world cannot make a truth of the lie of nationalist populism rams home the lesson that Brexit has made the UK a bit player in the global economy. Precisely as Brexiters were warned, although now in ways being rapidly re-shaped, that global economy consists of three main blocs, the US, China, and the EU. All of the guff about being ‘the fifth largest economy in the world’ was irrelevant in 2016 and is even more irrelevant now. So, too, is the supposed (though scarcely demonstrated) ‘nimbleness’ and ‘agility’ of operating independently of those blocs. Whereas, as a leading economic power within the EU, the UK had a major role within the global system, now it is virtually an onlooker.
I’m sure that others have made this observation, but the only commentator I have seen do so with much clarity is Robert Shrimsley of the Financial Times (£) including his point that: “Whatever the pros and cons of the EU’s policies, it is in a position to defend them should it so choose, as shown by this week’s readiness to contemplate retaliatory tariffs. The UK is not. The price of preferential treatment is readiness to play the supplicant.” To that, of course, should be added the fact that being a supplicant does not necessarily result in getting preferential treatment.
Where does that leave the UK in practical terms? Most commentators take it to mean that we must choose between the US and the EU. I’m increasingly convinced that this is a flawed formulation, albeit not for the reasons that Keir Starmer seems to believe (though, perhaps, for the reasons he is not able to say). It’s not, as Starmer says, that we ‘don’t have to make a choice’, it is that we aren’t in a position to be able to make a choice: we have no realistic alternative other than to dance around, a bit player caught between the big players over whom we have no control and very little leverage.
For what would ‘making a choice’ mean? To state the obvious, there is literally no way that the UK could become a US State (such an idea isn’t even at the level of Trump’s absurd suggestion that Canada should do so), so ‘choosing the US’ could really only mean making a trade agreement with the US, of a sort which precluded closer relations with the EU, let along rejoining. But, even supposing the most comprehensive trade agreement with the US imaginable, the economic and regulatory pull of the EU is always going to be greater.
On the other hand, and I know how much this will annoy many readers of this blog, although it isn’t literally impossible that the UK could join the EU, it is really not a practical possibility for the time being. At all events, it is undeniable that the present government is not seeking to rejoin, and in the absence of political will there is no possibility of it happening. Moreover, even if a UK government were committed to rejoining, it would take time both to agree to that policy domestically, via a referendum, and to agree and complete an accession process.
Thus, in the current unavoidable context of the whirlwind being created by Trump, the ‘choice’ is not a clearcut one, it is a messy fudge in which the government will continue to try to get closer to the EU, and closer to the US, and perhaps closer to China, all the time having to calibrate each relationship against what each of those parties will allow the UK to agree with either of the others [1]. This is the degrading ‘sovereignty’ to which the Brexiters have consigned us: an undignified attempt to duck and dive, to wheel and deal, to fawn, bluster, plead, and flatter. The figure who best represents post-Brexit Britain isn’t Drake, or Nelson, or Churchill. It’s Arthur Daley (younger and non-UK readers may need to consult Wikipedia).
Wheels within deals
By definition, such an approach does not point in any one direction, or certainly not in a predictable one. We can expect to see continued talk of the possibility of a deal with the US. There had been several press reports (£) that the prospects of this were fading, and then J.D. Vance gave a strong indication of its possibility, though what he meant by that, and what weight can be put on it, is not clear. Some commentators read it as an attempt to put pressure on the UK to strike a deal, and especially to concede on social media regulation to do so. Others see the US seeking to use the promise of a deal to drive a wedge between the UK and the EU. It’s certainly true that doing so immediately captures UK media attention, perpetuates the false idea that a UK-US deal would be some great prize, and, in the process, immediately re-ignites the flames of Brexit, as may well be its intention.
But, in truth, it is probably not just pointless but counter-productive to try to decode the noises coming out of Washington. It’s even more obvious now than when I first wrote it that Trump exercises power by making everyone speculate, and one thing which Starmer is getting right is to avoid getting caught up in the Trump psychodrama. It’s also worth recalling that, during his first term, to the irritation of the Brexiters, Trump kept blowing hot and cold about doing a deal, and never delivered. Even if it happens, it is an open question how stable any deal could be: the ridiculous insult Brexiters used to throw at the EU, of it being a ‘protectionist racket’, would actually be far better applied to Trump’s US. The EU is a far more reliable interlocutor.
For what it is worth, I think a limited UK-US deal is actually now more likely, because the failure of Trump’s tariff policy will make him keen to demonstrate it has, really, been successful, by doing ‘deals’ with at least some of its targets. Unpredictable as he is, the one constant about Trump is his ego, which will surely lead to some attempt to salvage what he can from what Simon Nixon calls “one of the greatest and most humiliating policy reversals in US history”. If so, it won’t be a comprehensive Free Trade Agreement and it almost certainly wouldn’t entail the UK changing its food standards, but would very likely include controversial concessions of taxation of tech firms, and reduced or zero tariffs on beef and fish [2].
We can also expect to see the UK continuing to talk up the possibilities of other trade deals, especially with India. Whether the latter will ever actually come to fruition is another matter: recent announcements that it is “90%” agreed are fairly meaningless, as they just mean that the most intractable issues remain unresolved. Again, though, it is unlikely that a deal with India would involve food standards. The reason, as with any US deal, is because a deal with the EU on Sanitary and Phyto-Sanitary (SPS) regulation has always been the government’s central goal for the reset. It has been obvious for months that this would mean agreeing to dynamic alignment and ECJ oversight and that Starmer was prepared for this, despite his reticence to spell that out. This week, I think for the first time, it has been reported that this is so. Moreover, many well-informed reports suggest that a much more maximalist reset is now on the agenda.
The real action
However, whatever the UK does or does not do, the real action will be elsewhere. Most obviously, that means the power-plays between the US, China, and the EU. That in turn may mean the creation of new international alliances, or their deepening. That is already evident in China’s discussions with Indonesia, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Malaysia, and there are numerous indications of closer cooperation between China, Japan, and South Korea, perhaps even leading to a new tri-lateral trade agreement. Meanwhile, there are at least mutterings about cooperation between the CPTPP and the EU, and it wouldn’t be all that surprising to see renewed impetus behind China’s attempts to join the CPTPP. It would be rather delicious if the ultimate legacy of Donald ‘Mr Brexit’ Trump for post-Brexit Britain was to be for it to end up in a bloc with the EU and China.
Such speculations aside, what is already happening is a rapidly deepening economic conflict between China and the US, going beyond tariffs. For example, China is shutting down exports of rare earth metals to the US, and halting imports of Boeing planes and parts. Many commentators are observing (£) that China may have the stronger hand in this conflict, whilst others are raising the possibility that it will to develop into non-economic forms, with Taiwan being an obvious military flashpoint.
These and other developments would lie largely out of the UK’s control, regardless of Brexit but, having foregone the sovereignty-magnifying, relatively safe haven, of EU membership, it is not even at the table. It is as if Arthur Daley’s manor is now aflame with gang wars and all he can do is graft a precarious living, doing dodgy deals from his lock-up garage, constantly hoping that a nice little earner will turn up. The real power lies elsewhere, and he doesn’t even have his minder any more.
Notes
[1] The UK-China relationship is a complicated one, and has been, with or without Brexit, for some years. Events just this week, in relation to the Scunthorpe steel plant, show its fractiousness, and the near inseparability of specifically economic issues and the general political relationship. That fractiousness, and more, extends deeply into security issues. There is a good summary (though predating Scunthorpe) of the current relationship by George Magnus of Oxford University’s China Centre, and a more detailed research briefing from the House of Commons Library. The general point I would make is that Brexit has in no way made this relationship better or easier for the UK to navigate. Rather, it is a third pole, along with the US and the EU, around which the UK must dance a solitary dance. On the specific point of how the UK’s relationship with any one of these poles may be constrained by another of them, which is quite obvious as regards UK-US-EU, there are already signs that the US will seek to dictate what the UK (and others) agree with China. What kind of things might China want of the UK? That, no doubt, is in flux because of the US-China trade war, and I haven’t been able to find much information on it, but a 2021 report from the Council on Geostrategy gives some insights.
[2] I’m sticking to my guns on this, despite an excellent comment made by the poster ‘Andrew V’. He makes the point, which I had missed, that UK food standards were explicitly named as part of the reason for Trump’s ‘reciprocal tariffs’ (this reflects his more general approach of trying to use tariffs to counter both tariff and non-tariff barriers to US exports). The implication, then, might be that dropping these standards would be a necessary condition of an exemption deal to waive the new 10% tariff, rather than, as I had argued, only something that would come into play in a comprehensive Free Trade Agreement. However, to the extent that the 10% tariff is being applied universally (plus some, now delayed, top ups) it implies that it is being levied independently of any specific so-called ‘abuses’, and the UK food standards were listed simply as an example of the kind of NTBs the US faces (and as one of many longstanding US grievances). But, frankly, who can tell with Trump? At all events, as noted above, it seems highly improbable that the UK would agree anything with the US at this point which would preclude an SPS agreement with the EU, not least because of the additional problems doing so would create for Northern Ireland. Time will tell ….
In the vortex of events over the following days, Trump was forced to back down on most of his threats, with the principal exception of those to China, which accelerated (though, soon, he exempted phones and computers). For now, what is left is primarily the 10% baseline import tariff on all goods which applies to the EU and the UK (as do the 25% car, steel, and aluminum tariffs). And, with that, this “tangible benefit of Brexit that no one can ignore”, as the hapless Clark had put it, ceased to exist before it had even come into force.
The Brexit benefit that never was
Of course the wider situation of Trump and his tariff mayhem has not gone away, but, before considering that, it is worth reflecting on that fleeting moment. After all, it is perfectly possible, even likely, that something like it will reappear in some form or other if Trump treats the EU more badly than the UK. Or, in a similar way, I expect some Brexiters will see the government’s announcement this week that the UK is going to suspend some import tariffs as showing the value of being able to act independently of the EU.
At one level, this illustrates the sheer desperation of Brexiters to seize on anything which might revive public approval for their project. Their cause may no longer burn bright but, like a fire which has been quelled, there are still a few embers which, when the wind blows from the right direction, flare up into a flame. That resilience is a reminder of the Brexiters’ tenacity but, at the same time, a reminder that had Brexit been anything like the success they had promised, they would scarcely need to latch on to such transparently feeble justifications.
Yet, in doing so, they managed to wrongfoot many people. For example, Darren Jones, Chief Secretary to the Treasury, reluctantly accepted the tariff differential as a “Brexit dividend”. Others tried to refute the claim by arguing that the tariff level derived simply from Trump’s (absurd) ‘formula’, rather than being anything to do with Brexit. But that did not negate the fact that, under that formula, the UK was treated better than the EU. Nor did it, in itself, refute the claim to point out that any ‘gain’ would have been more than offset by the other costs of Brexit, although that is certainly true, since it was not formulated as demonstrating a net benefit.
A better response to the Clark-type claim would have been that Trump’s presidency has caused a crisis in the system of trade governance overseen by the WTO, in which so many Brexiters used to place such faith. More specifically, it has done so by exposing the world to the caprice and vindictiveness of a President who openly revels in making other countries “kiss my ass”, to use his own charmless words. That capriciousness means that he might just as easily have imposed a much higher rate on the UK than on the EU, and still might do so, and if in the future he reverts to imposing a lower rate on the UK than on the EU then that would be equally subject to revision.
Thus, whilst it is true that Brexit creates the possibility of the US (or anyone else) treating the UK and the EU differently as regards terms of trade, it is entirely unpredictable what this will mean in practice, and even more unpredictable in Trump’s hands. In itself, therefore, it can’t be claimed as a Brexit benefit. The possibility of differential treatment is a result of Brexit, but to call it a benefit of Brexit is just the tautological proposition that ‘Brexit is the benefit of Brexit’.
What Trump’s tariffs really tell us about Brexit
However, considering Trump’s tariffs, and especially what made him resile from his initial announcement, does tell us some important things about the damage of Brexit. Apart from the role of internal divisions in his administration, the reasons seem to have been, first, the robustness of China’s response; second, the less forceful but still firm EU response; third, the crash of the US stock market; and, fourth, the incipient crash of the US bond market.
As several people have commented, ‘Liberation Day’ can be seen as ‘America’s Brexit’ or, in a similar vein, as America’s ‘Liz Truss moment’. There has always been an umbilical cord between Brexit and Trumpism, as I have discussed before on this blog and, looking back, elsewhere, too. This latest episode shows their shared folly in over-estimating the power of the sovereign nation state and, as also shown by Truss’s ‘Brexit mini-budget’, the consequences of pursuing policies on the assumption that this folly is the invention of ‘the Establishment’ rather than being an empirical reality.
Unsurprisingly, about the only UK economist coming out in support of what most see as Trump’s “tariff madness” is ‘Brexit brain’ Shanker Singham, Chairman of Truss’s Growth Commission. Equally unsurprisingly, Trump is now lashing out in furious Truss-type attacks on the Chairman of the Federal Reserve.
Trump has now demonstrated that even the US is not immune to the power of other countries and blocs, and it is certainly not immune to the power of the stock, bond, and currency markets. Lewis Goodall of the News Agents deserves credit for having spelt this out even before Trump’s volte-face, making the point that: “One way or another, America cannot escape the limitations and strictures the global economy places on every nation, even the most powerful. Trump may be done with globalism: globalism may not be done with him.”
That insight was validated by the climb-down, and further evidenced by the subsequent exemption of Chinese phones and computers. The US simply cannot afford to detach itself from the global economy, or at least is not willing to live with the consequences of doing so. The big lie of nationalist populism is to conjure up an image of the past (often a past that never existed, or was far less desirable than presented) and promise to recreate it via a single great, transformative national act. Brexit showed this lie. Now Trump’s ‘Liberation Day’ has shown it again. The factories aren’t going to come back to the rust belt. They were never going to, and they never will.
What this means for the UK
The fact that even the most powerful country in the world cannot make a truth of the lie of nationalist populism rams home the lesson that Brexit has made the UK a bit player in the global economy. Precisely as Brexiters were warned, although now in ways being rapidly re-shaped, that global economy consists of three main blocs, the US, China, and the EU. All of the guff about being ‘the fifth largest economy in the world’ was irrelevant in 2016 and is even more irrelevant now. So, too, is the supposed (though scarcely demonstrated) ‘nimbleness’ and ‘agility’ of operating independently of those blocs. Whereas, as a leading economic power within the EU, the UK had a major role within the global system, now it is virtually an onlooker.
I’m sure that others have made this observation, but the only commentator I have seen do so with much clarity is Robert Shrimsley of the Financial Times (£) including his point that: “Whatever the pros and cons of the EU’s policies, it is in a position to defend them should it so choose, as shown by this week’s readiness to contemplate retaliatory tariffs. The UK is not. The price of preferential treatment is readiness to play the supplicant.” To that, of course, should be added the fact that being a supplicant does not necessarily result in getting preferential treatment.
Where does that leave the UK in practical terms? Most commentators take it to mean that we must choose between the US and the EU. I’m increasingly convinced that this is a flawed formulation, albeit not for the reasons that Keir Starmer seems to believe (though, perhaps, for the reasons he is not able to say). It’s not, as Starmer says, that we ‘don’t have to make a choice’, it is that we aren’t in a position to be able to make a choice: we have no realistic alternative other than to dance around, a bit player caught between the big players over whom we have no control and very little leverage.
For what would ‘making a choice’ mean? To state the obvious, there is literally no way that the UK could become a US State (such an idea isn’t even at the level of Trump’s absurd suggestion that Canada should do so), so ‘choosing the US’ could really only mean making a trade agreement with the US, of a sort which precluded closer relations with the EU, let along rejoining. But, even supposing the most comprehensive trade agreement with the US imaginable, the economic and regulatory pull of the EU is always going to be greater.
On the other hand, and I know how much this will annoy many readers of this blog, although it isn’t literally impossible that the UK could join the EU, it is really not a practical possibility for the time being. At all events, it is undeniable that the present government is not seeking to rejoin, and in the absence of political will there is no possibility of it happening. Moreover, even if a UK government were committed to rejoining, it would take time both to agree to that policy domestically, via a referendum, and to agree and complete an accession process.
Thus, in the current unavoidable context of the whirlwind being created by Trump, the ‘choice’ is not a clearcut one, it is a messy fudge in which the government will continue to try to get closer to the EU, and closer to the US, and perhaps closer to China, all the time having to calibrate each relationship against what each of those parties will allow the UK to agree with either of the others [1]. This is the degrading ‘sovereignty’ to which the Brexiters have consigned us: an undignified attempt to duck and dive, to wheel and deal, to fawn, bluster, plead, and flatter. The figure who best represents post-Brexit Britain isn’t Drake, or Nelson, or Churchill. It’s Arthur Daley (younger and non-UK readers may need to consult Wikipedia).
Wheels within deals
By definition, such an approach does not point in any one direction, or certainly not in a predictable one. We can expect to see continued talk of the possibility of a deal with the US. There had been several press reports (£) that the prospects of this were fading, and then J.D. Vance gave a strong indication of its possibility, though what he meant by that, and what weight can be put on it, is not clear. Some commentators read it as an attempt to put pressure on the UK to strike a deal, and especially to concede on social media regulation to do so. Others see the US seeking to use the promise of a deal to drive a wedge between the UK and the EU. It’s certainly true that doing so immediately captures UK media attention, perpetuates the false idea that a UK-US deal would be some great prize, and, in the process, immediately re-ignites the flames of Brexit, as may well be its intention.
But, in truth, it is probably not just pointless but counter-productive to try to decode the noises coming out of Washington. It’s even more obvious now than when I first wrote it that Trump exercises power by making everyone speculate, and one thing which Starmer is getting right is to avoid getting caught up in the Trump psychodrama. It’s also worth recalling that, during his first term, to the irritation of the Brexiters, Trump kept blowing hot and cold about doing a deal, and never delivered. Even if it happens, it is an open question how stable any deal could be: the ridiculous insult Brexiters used to throw at the EU, of it being a ‘protectionist racket’, would actually be far better applied to Trump’s US. The EU is a far more reliable interlocutor.
For what it is worth, I think a limited UK-US deal is actually now more likely, because the failure of Trump’s tariff policy will make him keen to demonstrate it has, really, been successful, by doing ‘deals’ with at least some of its targets. Unpredictable as he is, the one constant about Trump is his ego, which will surely lead to some attempt to salvage what he can from what Simon Nixon calls “one of the greatest and most humiliating policy reversals in US history”. If so, it won’t be a comprehensive Free Trade Agreement and it almost certainly wouldn’t entail the UK changing its food standards, but would very likely include controversial concessions of taxation of tech firms, and reduced or zero tariffs on beef and fish [2].
We can also expect to see the UK continuing to talk up the possibilities of other trade deals, especially with India. Whether the latter will ever actually come to fruition is another matter: recent announcements that it is “90%” agreed are fairly meaningless, as they just mean that the most intractable issues remain unresolved. Again, though, it is unlikely that a deal with India would involve food standards. The reason, as with any US deal, is because a deal with the EU on Sanitary and Phyto-Sanitary (SPS) regulation has always been the government’s central goal for the reset. It has been obvious for months that this would mean agreeing to dynamic alignment and ECJ oversight and that Starmer was prepared for this, despite his reticence to spell that out. This week, I think for the first time, it has been reported that this is so. Moreover, many well-informed reports suggest that a much more maximalist reset is now on the agenda.
The real action
However, whatever the UK does or does not do, the real action will be elsewhere. Most obviously, that means the power-plays between the US, China, and the EU. That in turn may mean the creation of new international alliances, or their deepening. That is already evident in China’s discussions with Indonesia, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Malaysia, and there are numerous indications of closer cooperation between China, Japan, and South Korea, perhaps even leading to a new tri-lateral trade agreement. Meanwhile, there are at least mutterings about cooperation between the CPTPP and the EU, and it wouldn’t be all that surprising to see renewed impetus behind China’s attempts to join the CPTPP. It would be rather delicious if the ultimate legacy of Donald ‘Mr Brexit’ Trump for post-Brexit Britain was to be for it to end up in a bloc with the EU and China.
Such speculations aside, what is already happening is a rapidly deepening economic conflict between China and the US, going beyond tariffs. For example, China is shutting down exports of rare earth metals to the US, and halting imports of Boeing planes and parts. Many commentators are observing (£) that China may have the stronger hand in this conflict, whilst others are raising the possibility that it will to develop into non-economic forms, with Taiwan being an obvious military flashpoint.
These and other developments would lie largely out of the UK’s control, regardless of Brexit but, having foregone the sovereignty-magnifying, relatively safe haven, of EU membership, it is not even at the table. It is as if Arthur Daley’s manor is now aflame with gang wars and all he can do is graft a precarious living, doing dodgy deals from his lock-up garage, constantly hoping that a nice little earner will turn up. The real power lies elsewhere, and he doesn’t even have his minder any more.
Notes
[1] The UK-China relationship is a complicated one, and has been, with or without Brexit, for some years. Events just this week, in relation to the Scunthorpe steel plant, show its fractiousness, and the near inseparability of specifically economic issues and the general political relationship. That fractiousness, and more, extends deeply into security issues. There is a good summary (though predating Scunthorpe) of the current relationship by George Magnus of Oxford University’s China Centre, and a more detailed research briefing from the House of Commons Library. The general point I would make is that Brexit has in no way made this relationship better or easier for the UK to navigate. Rather, it is a third pole, along with the US and the EU, around which the UK must dance a solitary dance. On the specific point of how the UK’s relationship with any one of these poles may be constrained by another of them, which is quite obvious as regards UK-US-EU, there are already signs that the US will seek to dictate what the UK (and others) agree with China. What kind of things might China want of the UK? That, no doubt, is in flux because of the US-China trade war, and I haven’t been able to find much information on it, but a 2021 report from the Council on Geostrategy gives some insights.
[2] I’m sticking to my guns on this, despite an excellent comment made by the poster ‘Andrew V’. He makes the point, which I had missed, that UK food standards were explicitly named as part of the reason for Trump’s ‘reciprocal tariffs’ (this reflects his more general approach of trying to use tariffs to counter both tariff and non-tariff barriers to US exports). The implication, then, might be that dropping these standards would be a necessary condition of an exemption deal to waive the new 10% tariff, rather than, as I had argued, only something that would come into play in a comprehensive Free Trade Agreement. However, to the extent that the 10% tariff is being applied universally (plus some, now delayed, top ups) it implies that it is being levied independently of any specific so-called ‘abuses’, and the UK food standards were listed simply as an example of the kind of NTBs the US faces (and as one of many longstanding US grievances). But, frankly, who can tell with Trump? At all events, as noted above, it seems highly improbable that the UK would agree anything with the US at this point which would preclude an SPS agreement with the EU, not least because of the additional problems doing so would create for Northern Ireland. Time will tell ….
Friday, 4 April 2025
How Trump has reset the Brexit reset
This week saw, according to respected economics commentator Simon Nixon, “the end of the economic world as we knew it”, and he is not alone in that view in the aftermath of Trump’s tariff announcement. But this is a blog about Brexit and actually, from that perspective, much of what I wrote in the first section of last fortnight’s post about the framing of current events still applies [1]. So, too, do many of the questions posed within that framing.
This in turn reflects the fact that what has effectively happened in the last couple of months is that the Brexit ‘reset’ policy with which the Labour government came to power, and which in some rather ill-defined sense it has been pursuing since then, has become inextricably entangled with the changed geo-political and economic landscape created with such speed by the new Trump administration.
So whereas what used to be called ‘the reset’ denoted simply a UK-EU process, framed by what had happened since 2016, it now has a new meaning as both the UK and the EU, and the UK-EU relationship, seek recalibrations framed by what has been happening in the US since January, including the latest dramatic, but not unexpected, developments (which I will return to). As a result, it has become far more complicated.
The changed meaning of ‘the reset’
To see the significance of that change, consider the idea of creating a deeper UK-EU defence and security pact. This was always central to Labour’s original reset plans, going back well before the last election. And it was not an especially radical idea, since it was effectively a revival of the non-binding Political Declaration signed, though subsequently ignored, by Boris Johnson in 2019. As such, it was actually a good example of what Labour could legitimately call ‘the Tories’ botched Brexit’, in that the absence of such a pact wasn’t inherent even in Johnson and May’s Brexit and, again as such, was a prime candidate for the reset in its original meaning.
However, there is now much more at stake in that such a pact is not only more urgent but has become bound up with massive changes in defence posture and policy under way within the EU and many of its member states, especially Germany. At their most basic level, these changes are about Europe, as a continent, taking responsibility for its own collective security now that the US can no longer be relied upon. In parallel, that is now conceptually bound up with, even though it is formally distinct from, Anglo-French attempts to mobilize a ‘Coalition of the Willing’ to support a ‘reassurance force’ for Ukraine in the event of any kind of peace deal.
There are already quite a few moving parts within that, even before adding in the potential economic and regulatory aspects of any reset. And the nature of that addition has also changed. In the original reset, these aspects might have been seen as relatively discrete from that of defence. Now, with possibilities for integrated defence manufacturing and procurement having come to the fore, they are much more closely connected.
From this, some of the political questions which already arose have become more complicated. In particular, to what extent do, or will, EU and/or UK negotiators treat all the different components as being inter-related and therefore, potentially, susceptible to being traded against each other? To give one important example of what that means in practice, to what extent might a defence and security pact be contingent on a deal on fishing rights, or on the still unresolved matter of Gibraltar? There is also a swathe of issues which are due to come up within the next year under the existing Trade and Cooperation Agreement, for example energy security, to add to the mix.
All of this brings new meaning and importance to the UK-EU Summit to be hosted in Britain on 19 May. If it doesn’t lead to the announcement of a substantive agreement, it will, given the wider context of crisis, mark a major failure of, and for, both the UK and the EU. A wise article by former EU Commissioner for Security Sir Julian King makes the point that the best way of averting such a failure is to avoid seeking to create a single ‘grand package’. That is, it is vital to reach agreement on the most pressing issues, whilst creating future processes to address those which cannot be resolved.
On my reading, King’s deeper message is that, primarily because of Trump, the nature of the UK-EU relationship needs to be thought of in different ways from those which have obtained since 2016 or even 2020. In other words, to repeat the point with which I began, a global reset is already under way, and the reset of post-Brexit UK-EU relations is now bound up with adapting to that new reality.
More accurately, it is bound up with adapting to a new reality which is still in the process of emerging. Because as well as all the moving parts within the UK-EU relationship, those within the US’s relationships with the UK, the EU, and the wider world also continue to be in flux. This flux has two broad aspects but, in terms of how they impact on resetting the UK-EU relationship, they point in potentially different directions.
The moral collapse of the United States
The first aspect is the rapidity of the US’s ongoing descent into authoritarianism and, which makes it hard to document and make sense of, the chaotic manner in which this is happening. Much is being written about this, by people much better-qualified than me, so this is just a brief summary.
There is now a multi-fronted war against universities, with overseas students being pulled off the streets by masked agents, detained in legal limbo, and deported. Entire universities are being battered into submitting to government demands, extending to what can be taught and how. What may in the long run become most damaging are attempts to censor or outlaw scientific research which is deemed ideologically unacceptable.
Some of this overlaps with a ferocious onslaught on alleged illegal immigrants, including deportations to a hellish prison in El Salvador in defiance of court orders. It also overlaps with the attempt to erase all traces of ‘Diversity, Equity and Inclusion’ (DEI) in public and private organizations and even amongst foreign firms supplying the US government. Lest anyone think that is no more than a re-balancing of some of the wilder shores of ‘wokery’, it has extended to removing the names of black, Hispanic and female military veterans from the Arlington National Cemetery website, the list of those names including General Colin Powell, Secretary of State to George W. Bush. This isn’t a corrective to ‘political correctness gone mad’, it is simply mad.
The intimidation of universities is accompanied by growing intimidation of journalists, authors, lawyers, judges (£). The latter, in particular, but all of these developments, in general, are bound up with what is now widely acknowledged to be a wholesale undermining of the rule of law. This of course extends to the rule of international law, including renewed threats against Greenland made, in the stock manner of every aggressor since time immemorial, in the name of the intended victim’s security’. Indeed all the developments I have mentioned are sickeningly familiar from all the other cases of countries sliding into authoritarianism or even totalitarianism.
Hovering above all of this is the spectre of radical violations of the US Constitution, with the most egregious threat being Trump’s recent talk of finding a way to serve a third term in office. And lurking underneath all this is something which is perhaps the least consequential but, to me, somehow seems the most revealing: the throat-clenched anger revealed by the savage rudeness, casual cruelty (the ‘fun videos’ referred to in the link include those of shackled deportees being frog-marched to detention camps), and sheer depravity of so many of the regime’s functionaries and cheerleaders. What we are seeing is not just a maverick government but something far more profound and far more dangerous. Hatred has been unleashed and made legitimate.
So far as this first aspect of what is happening in the US is concerned, its potential impact on UK-EU relations is to make them closer and deeper. It underscores the point I made in a recent post that, in this new global divide Trump has initiated, both the UK and the EU are on ‘the same side’. Both have shared values in being broadly committed to liberalism and the rule of domestic and international law. In this sense, as I suggested in that post, Brexit is an anomaly and an incongruity.
The United States’ declaration of economic war
The second aspect of what is happening in the US and its relations to the wider world is the economic warfare it has unleashed with ‘Trump Tariffs’. As flagged at the start of this post, this has been the big story of this week, with the long-trailed announcement on Wednesday of the details of a blanket 10% tariff on all goods imported to the US, including from the UK, with effect from tomorrow. The EU faces a 20% blanket tariff, and several countries an even higher levy, up to the 54% imposed on China. Moreover, there was confirmation that imports to the US of steel, aluminium and motor vehicles from all countries, including the UK, have had a new 25% tariff imposed.
By any standard, this marks the beginning of an enormous economic shock. The full effects are difficult to predict partly because, as was seen earlier this year, Trump’s capriciousness means the policy might be altered in any direction, at any time. That capriciousness is itself partly because it isn’t simply an economic policy, as was underscored by the rambling speech about supposed American victimhood with which the new tariffs were announced, and the bizarre nature of the way they were calculated (£). As I noted shortly after his election, “trade policy for Trump is about beating his enemies … so there’s no point in thumbing through Ricardian theory on comparative advantage to try to understand [it]. But the corollary is that there’s no point in trying to frame responses in these terms.”
In particular, much of Trump’s trade policy apparently aims, and certainly has the potential, to provoke division, including between the UK and the EU. That is because of the different ways different countries have been treated, and also because of the possibility, and therefore the temptation, for individual countries to cut their own deals or make their own responses in the face of US aggression. So whilst those threatened may have shared values, they do not necessarily have (or perceive themselves to have) shared economic interests. Thus this second aspect of what is happening in the US could work against UK-EU relations becoming closer and deeper.
Back to Brexit
Specifically, the UK government, mired as it is in economic difficulties, may believe that Brexit is a lifeline rather than ‘an anomaly and incongruity’. Certainly the Brexiters are already crowing that Trump imposing a lower rate on the UK than on the EU represents a vindication of Brexit (they would do better to reflect on the mockery it makes of their former faith in ‘WTO rules’). They also believe that there is an even bigger potential ‘prize’ in the form of an exemption deal with the US.
Plainly the government does so too, having been seeking exactly that in recent weeks and, although it has not been successful, it claims that the effort is continuing, even hinting that a deal may be near to completion. Meanwhile, Starmer is insistent that there will be no immediate retaliatory action but that “all options remain on the table”, implying retaliatory tariffs if there is no deal, and has launched a consultation exercise with businesses about what these might consist of.
It’s worth saying that there is nothing inherently shameful about trying to negotiate a deal with the US, despite what some commentators and politicians seem to believe [1]. After all, the UK is not the only country which has tried and is continuing to try to do so, with examples including Canada, Mexico, India, and Japan. The EU, too, “would prefer to negotiate”.
The issue is, more, what happens if those attempts continue to fail. Does the UK then pursue a policy of being a non-combatant in the trade war? If it did so then, again, it would not be alone. It seems that this will be how Australia and New Zealand, both of which have ‘only’ suffered the 10% baseline tariff, will respond. The UK’s situation is different to those countries, though, in terms of its economic enmeshment with the EU. On the other hand, what happened if the UK’s attempts succeed? That would make it not so much a non-combatant as a defector.
The economic temptations for the UK to continue to seek an exemption deal, or to eschew retaliation without one are obvious. The political risks are equally obvious. Domestically, it is out of line with opinion polls, which would prefer closer links with the EU (but public opinion might be fickle if and when Trump Tariffs bite on UK jobs). Internationally, it may undermine or even destroy the developing unity with the EU and other countries, including those of the ‘Coalition of the Willing’ to support Ukraine (an illustration of the complexity of the moving parts in the new reset).
Bluntly, why would other countries want to get closer to, let alone ‘stand shoulder to shoulder with’, a Britain making weaselly deals with Trump even as Trump punishes their economies and even threatens their territory? In the process, any political kudos Starmer has garnered, both domestically and internationally, for his post-Trump leadership on defending Ukraine from Russian military warfare may quickly be lost if he is unwilling to defend the UK and its allies from US economic warfare.
Perhaps some would understand and accept it as a matter of UK realpolitik. For example, it is reported that “João Vale de Almeida, former EU ambassador to the US and the UK, said he did not expect the UK to retaliate in the way the EU was bound to”, although he added that “it was important that Starmer hit back in some way by criticising the way the US president used tariffs as a tool of policy.” But perhaps (and perhaps more likely) other countries will see it as one more example of Perfidious Albion and one more example of the British preference, come what may, to cosy up to the Americans. An interesting sub-question is whether, if the UK continues to fail to make a deal with the US until eventually and belatedly joining the EU and others in retaliations, that would be seen as scarcely any less perfidious.
Starmer’s choices
These considerations, amongst others, lead Guardian columnist Jonathan Freedland to make the case that Starmer should publicly admit and denounce the threat that Trump poses, rather in the manner that Mark Carney, the new Canadian Prime Minister, has done. Former UK Ambassador to the US Sir Kim Darroch has made a similar argument. Freedland suggests that, apart from anything else, doing so might also enable Starmer to escape some of the economic policy constraints the government faces, by presenting this situation as a national emergency. Another kind of reset, so to speak.
Of course Freedland and, undoubtedly, Darroch are well aware that the extensiveness of the UK’s defence, intelligence and economic ties with the US makes such a course highly risky [2]. That is also true of Canada, but Carney is in a rather different situation, firstly because he is about to fight an election, and secondly because the US attacks on Canada have been so extreme and so public that they can hardly be finessed away. So even if Freedland is right that, sooner or later, open confrontation will become unavoidable, there is every reason to think that Starmer will opt for it to be left until later rather than done sooner, and, meanwhile, try to walk the tightrope so as to avoid alienating anyone.
But that, too, has its risks, above and beyond those to relations with the EU, Canada etc. For, whilst failing to unequivocally oppose him in the manner of Carney, it is not clear that Starmer’s stance is enough to satisfy Trump anyway. For example, whilst it seemed as if the invitation for another State visit temporarily appealed to Trump’s grotesque ego, it was reported that the subsequent sight of King Charles meeting President Zelensky negated that appeal and fed a new resentment. The wider point is that Trump’s character isn’t such as to appreciate a tightrope act, he wants unequivocal fealty. In other words, it’s perfectly possible that Starmer, and therefore the UK, will end up alienating everyone.
I don’t think anyone, or at least anyone with an iota of political insight, imagines that Starmer’s choices are easy, or that any of the options are good. But choices have to be made, if only by default, and time is not on his side. In the absence of the quick completion of a deal with the US, the policy of not responding to Trump’s tariffs will soon come under pressure from industry and voters, as well as from opposition parties and some Labour MPS and ministers. Equally, depending on what is given away in return, a deal with Trump is likely to be controversial. Moreover, depending on exactly how things play out, there will potentially be some complex, and specifically Brexit-created, problems for Northern Ireland.
Most urgently of all, the reset with the EU cannot be allowed to drift, now that it has taken on its new meaning, and it is going to have to be substantively advanced by the Summit, which is just six weeks away. If it’s not now or never, then it’s very close to it. And although it would be naïve to expect moral outrage to play much part in realpolitik and statecraft, the immoral spectacle unfolding in the United States can surely not be ignored for much longer. Or, to put it differently, and perhaps better, realpolitik and statecraft ought to alert us to the fact that the immorality of what is unfolding in the United States, quite as much as the imposition of tariffs, represents a clear and present danger to our national interests and our way of life.
Notes
[1] As I explained in detail in a previous post, a ‘deal’ in this context means some kind of agreement for the UK to be exempted from these new US tariffs, not a comprehensive UK-US Free Trade Agreement (this is presumably why Starmer always uses the term ‘an economic deal’ rather than ‘trade deal’). It’s worth stressing, because I was struck that when this was discussed in parliament yesterday some MPs, including some Tories urging a deal and some LibDems urging caution about a deal, appeared to be utterly confused about the difference.
[2] This isn’t negated by growing concerns about the security risks of sharing intelligence with the US, which were brought into sharp relief by the SIGNAL Yemen raid scandal, because that doesn’t affect UK reliance on receiving intelligence from the US.
This in turn reflects the fact that what has effectively happened in the last couple of months is that the Brexit ‘reset’ policy with which the Labour government came to power, and which in some rather ill-defined sense it has been pursuing since then, has become inextricably entangled with the changed geo-political and economic landscape created with such speed by the new Trump administration.
So whereas what used to be called ‘the reset’ denoted simply a UK-EU process, framed by what had happened since 2016, it now has a new meaning as both the UK and the EU, and the UK-EU relationship, seek recalibrations framed by what has been happening in the US since January, including the latest dramatic, but not unexpected, developments (which I will return to). As a result, it has become far more complicated.
The changed meaning of ‘the reset’
To see the significance of that change, consider the idea of creating a deeper UK-EU defence and security pact. This was always central to Labour’s original reset plans, going back well before the last election. And it was not an especially radical idea, since it was effectively a revival of the non-binding Political Declaration signed, though subsequently ignored, by Boris Johnson in 2019. As such, it was actually a good example of what Labour could legitimately call ‘the Tories’ botched Brexit’, in that the absence of such a pact wasn’t inherent even in Johnson and May’s Brexit and, again as such, was a prime candidate for the reset in its original meaning.
However, there is now much more at stake in that such a pact is not only more urgent but has become bound up with massive changes in defence posture and policy under way within the EU and many of its member states, especially Germany. At their most basic level, these changes are about Europe, as a continent, taking responsibility for its own collective security now that the US can no longer be relied upon. In parallel, that is now conceptually bound up with, even though it is formally distinct from, Anglo-French attempts to mobilize a ‘Coalition of the Willing’ to support a ‘reassurance force’ for Ukraine in the event of any kind of peace deal.
There are already quite a few moving parts within that, even before adding in the potential economic and regulatory aspects of any reset. And the nature of that addition has also changed. In the original reset, these aspects might have been seen as relatively discrete from that of defence. Now, with possibilities for integrated defence manufacturing and procurement having come to the fore, they are much more closely connected.
From this, some of the political questions which already arose have become more complicated. In particular, to what extent do, or will, EU and/or UK negotiators treat all the different components as being inter-related and therefore, potentially, susceptible to being traded against each other? To give one important example of what that means in practice, to what extent might a defence and security pact be contingent on a deal on fishing rights, or on the still unresolved matter of Gibraltar? There is also a swathe of issues which are due to come up within the next year under the existing Trade and Cooperation Agreement, for example energy security, to add to the mix.
All of this brings new meaning and importance to the UK-EU Summit to be hosted in Britain on 19 May. If it doesn’t lead to the announcement of a substantive agreement, it will, given the wider context of crisis, mark a major failure of, and for, both the UK and the EU. A wise article by former EU Commissioner for Security Sir Julian King makes the point that the best way of averting such a failure is to avoid seeking to create a single ‘grand package’. That is, it is vital to reach agreement on the most pressing issues, whilst creating future processes to address those which cannot be resolved.
On my reading, King’s deeper message is that, primarily because of Trump, the nature of the UK-EU relationship needs to be thought of in different ways from those which have obtained since 2016 or even 2020. In other words, to repeat the point with which I began, a global reset is already under way, and the reset of post-Brexit UK-EU relations is now bound up with adapting to that new reality.
More accurately, it is bound up with adapting to a new reality which is still in the process of emerging. Because as well as all the moving parts within the UK-EU relationship, those within the US’s relationships with the UK, the EU, and the wider world also continue to be in flux. This flux has two broad aspects but, in terms of how they impact on resetting the UK-EU relationship, they point in potentially different directions.
The moral collapse of the United States
The first aspect is the rapidity of the US’s ongoing descent into authoritarianism and, which makes it hard to document and make sense of, the chaotic manner in which this is happening. Much is being written about this, by people much better-qualified than me, so this is just a brief summary.
There is now a multi-fronted war against universities, with overseas students being pulled off the streets by masked agents, detained in legal limbo, and deported. Entire universities are being battered into submitting to government demands, extending to what can be taught and how. What may in the long run become most damaging are attempts to censor or outlaw scientific research which is deemed ideologically unacceptable.
Some of this overlaps with a ferocious onslaught on alleged illegal immigrants, including deportations to a hellish prison in El Salvador in defiance of court orders. It also overlaps with the attempt to erase all traces of ‘Diversity, Equity and Inclusion’ (DEI) in public and private organizations and even amongst foreign firms supplying the US government. Lest anyone think that is no more than a re-balancing of some of the wilder shores of ‘wokery’, it has extended to removing the names of black, Hispanic and female military veterans from the Arlington National Cemetery website, the list of those names including General Colin Powell, Secretary of State to George W. Bush. This isn’t a corrective to ‘political correctness gone mad’, it is simply mad.
The intimidation of universities is accompanied by growing intimidation of journalists, authors, lawyers, judges (£). The latter, in particular, but all of these developments, in general, are bound up with what is now widely acknowledged to be a wholesale undermining of the rule of law. This of course extends to the rule of international law, including renewed threats against Greenland made, in the stock manner of every aggressor since time immemorial, in the name of the intended victim’s security’. Indeed all the developments I have mentioned are sickeningly familiar from all the other cases of countries sliding into authoritarianism or even totalitarianism.
Hovering above all of this is the spectre of radical violations of the US Constitution, with the most egregious threat being Trump’s recent talk of finding a way to serve a third term in office. And lurking underneath all this is something which is perhaps the least consequential but, to me, somehow seems the most revealing: the throat-clenched anger revealed by the savage rudeness, casual cruelty (the ‘fun videos’ referred to in the link include those of shackled deportees being frog-marched to detention camps), and sheer depravity of so many of the regime’s functionaries and cheerleaders. What we are seeing is not just a maverick government but something far more profound and far more dangerous. Hatred has been unleashed and made legitimate.
So far as this first aspect of what is happening in the US is concerned, its potential impact on UK-EU relations is to make them closer and deeper. It underscores the point I made in a recent post that, in this new global divide Trump has initiated, both the UK and the EU are on ‘the same side’. Both have shared values in being broadly committed to liberalism and the rule of domestic and international law. In this sense, as I suggested in that post, Brexit is an anomaly and an incongruity.
The United States’ declaration of economic war
The second aspect of what is happening in the US and its relations to the wider world is the economic warfare it has unleashed with ‘Trump Tariffs’. As flagged at the start of this post, this has been the big story of this week, with the long-trailed announcement on Wednesday of the details of a blanket 10% tariff on all goods imported to the US, including from the UK, with effect from tomorrow. The EU faces a 20% blanket tariff, and several countries an even higher levy, up to the 54% imposed on China. Moreover, there was confirmation that imports to the US of steel, aluminium and motor vehicles from all countries, including the UK, have had a new 25% tariff imposed.
By any standard, this marks the beginning of an enormous economic shock. The full effects are difficult to predict partly because, as was seen earlier this year, Trump’s capriciousness means the policy might be altered in any direction, at any time. That capriciousness is itself partly because it isn’t simply an economic policy, as was underscored by the rambling speech about supposed American victimhood with which the new tariffs were announced, and the bizarre nature of the way they were calculated (£). As I noted shortly after his election, “trade policy for Trump is about beating his enemies … so there’s no point in thumbing through Ricardian theory on comparative advantage to try to understand [it]. But the corollary is that there’s no point in trying to frame responses in these terms.”
In particular, much of Trump’s trade policy apparently aims, and certainly has the potential, to provoke division, including between the UK and the EU. That is because of the different ways different countries have been treated, and also because of the possibility, and therefore the temptation, for individual countries to cut their own deals or make their own responses in the face of US aggression. So whilst those threatened may have shared values, they do not necessarily have (or perceive themselves to have) shared economic interests. Thus this second aspect of what is happening in the US could work against UK-EU relations becoming closer and deeper.
Back to Brexit
Specifically, the UK government, mired as it is in economic difficulties, may believe that Brexit is a lifeline rather than ‘an anomaly and incongruity’. Certainly the Brexiters are already crowing that Trump imposing a lower rate on the UK than on the EU represents a vindication of Brexit (they would do better to reflect on the mockery it makes of their former faith in ‘WTO rules’). They also believe that there is an even bigger potential ‘prize’ in the form of an exemption deal with the US.
Plainly the government does so too, having been seeking exactly that in recent weeks and, although it has not been successful, it claims that the effort is continuing, even hinting that a deal may be near to completion. Meanwhile, Starmer is insistent that there will be no immediate retaliatory action but that “all options remain on the table”, implying retaliatory tariffs if there is no deal, and has launched a consultation exercise with businesses about what these might consist of.
It’s worth saying that there is nothing inherently shameful about trying to negotiate a deal with the US, despite what some commentators and politicians seem to believe [1]. After all, the UK is not the only country which has tried and is continuing to try to do so, with examples including Canada, Mexico, India, and Japan. The EU, too, “would prefer to negotiate”.
The issue is, more, what happens if those attempts continue to fail. Does the UK then pursue a policy of being a non-combatant in the trade war? If it did so then, again, it would not be alone. It seems that this will be how Australia and New Zealand, both of which have ‘only’ suffered the 10% baseline tariff, will respond. The UK’s situation is different to those countries, though, in terms of its economic enmeshment with the EU. On the other hand, what happened if the UK’s attempts succeed? That would make it not so much a non-combatant as a defector.
The economic temptations for the UK to continue to seek an exemption deal, or to eschew retaliation without one are obvious. The political risks are equally obvious. Domestically, it is out of line with opinion polls, which would prefer closer links with the EU (but public opinion might be fickle if and when Trump Tariffs bite on UK jobs). Internationally, it may undermine or even destroy the developing unity with the EU and other countries, including those of the ‘Coalition of the Willing’ to support Ukraine (an illustration of the complexity of the moving parts in the new reset).
Bluntly, why would other countries want to get closer to, let alone ‘stand shoulder to shoulder with’, a Britain making weaselly deals with Trump even as Trump punishes their economies and even threatens their territory? In the process, any political kudos Starmer has garnered, both domestically and internationally, for his post-Trump leadership on defending Ukraine from Russian military warfare may quickly be lost if he is unwilling to defend the UK and its allies from US economic warfare.
Perhaps some would understand and accept it as a matter of UK realpolitik. For example, it is reported that “João Vale de Almeida, former EU ambassador to the US and the UK, said he did not expect the UK to retaliate in the way the EU was bound to”, although he added that “it was important that Starmer hit back in some way by criticising the way the US president used tariffs as a tool of policy.” But perhaps (and perhaps more likely) other countries will see it as one more example of Perfidious Albion and one more example of the British preference, come what may, to cosy up to the Americans. An interesting sub-question is whether, if the UK continues to fail to make a deal with the US until eventually and belatedly joining the EU and others in retaliations, that would be seen as scarcely any less perfidious.
Starmer’s choices
These considerations, amongst others, lead Guardian columnist Jonathan Freedland to make the case that Starmer should publicly admit and denounce the threat that Trump poses, rather in the manner that Mark Carney, the new Canadian Prime Minister, has done. Former UK Ambassador to the US Sir Kim Darroch has made a similar argument. Freedland suggests that, apart from anything else, doing so might also enable Starmer to escape some of the economic policy constraints the government faces, by presenting this situation as a national emergency. Another kind of reset, so to speak.
Of course Freedland and, undoubtedly, Darroch are well aware that the extensiveness of the UK’s defence, intelligence and economic ties with the US makes such a course highly risky [2]. That is also true of Canada, but Carney is in a rather different situation, firstly because he is about to fight an election, and secondly because the US attacks on Canada have been so extreme and so public that they can hardly be finessed away. So even if Freedland is right that, sooner or later, open confrontation will become unavoidable, there is every reason to think that Starmer will opt for it to be left until later rather than done sooner, and, meanwhile, try to walk the tightrope so as to avoid alienating anyone.
But that, too, has its risks, above and beyond those to relations with the EU, Canada etc. For, whilst failing to unequivocally oppose him in the manner of Carney, it is not clear that Starmer’s stance is enough to satisfy Trump anyway. For example, whilst it seemed as if the invitation for another State visit temporarily appealed to Trump’s grotesque ego, it was reported that the subsequent sight of King Charles meeting President Zelensky negated that appeal and fed a new resentment. The wider point is that Trump’s character isn’t such as to appreciate a tightrope act, he wants unequivocal fealty. In other words, it’s perfectly possible that Starmer, and therefore the UK, will end up alienating everyone.
I don’t think anyone, or at least anyone with an iota of political insight, imagines that Starmer’s choices are easy, or that any of the options are good. But choices have to be made, if only by default, and time is not on his side. In the absence of the quick completion of a deal with the US, the policy of not responding to Trump’s tariffs will soon come under pressure from industry and voters, as well as from opposition parties and some Labour MPS and ministers. Equally, depending on what is given away in return, a deal with Trump is likely to be controversial. Moreover, depending on exactly how things play out, there will potentially be some complex, and specifically Brexit-created, problems for Northern Ireland.
Most urgently of all, the reset with the EU cannot be allowed to drift, now that it has taken on its new meaning, and it is going to have to be substantively advanced by the Summit, which is just six weeks away. If it’s not now or never, then it’s very close to it. And although it would be naïve to expect moral outrage to play much part in realpolitik and statecraft, the immoral spectacle unfolding in the United States can surely not be ignored for much longer. Or, to put it differently, and perhaps better, realpolitik and statecraft ought to alert us to the fact that the immorality of what is unfolding in the United States, quite as much as the imposition of tariffs, represents a clear and present danger to our national interests and our way of life.
Notes
[1] As I explained in detail in a previous post, a ‘deal’ in this context means some kind of agreement for the UK to be exempted from these new US tariffs, not a comprehensive UK-US Free Trade Agreement (this is presumably why Starmer always uses the term ‘an economic deal’ rather than ‘trade deal’). It’s worth stressing, because I was struck that when this was discussed in parliament yesterday some MPs, including some Tories urging a deal and some LibDems urging caution about a deal, appeared to be utterly confused about the difference.
[2] This isn’t negated by growing concerns about the security risks of sharing intelligence with the US, which were brought into sharp relief by the SIGNAL Yemen raid scandal, because that doesn’t affect UK reliance on receiving intelligence from the US.
Friday, 21 March 2025
The Brexit reformation
It was always inevitable that once Britain had left the EU it would become more and more difficult to keep tabs on what Brexit means. The consequences are so diffuse, so varied and, often, so technically abstruse as to certainly be beyond the abilities of any one person to catalogue. Many of those consequences are economic, but perhaps the most difficult to chart are the ways Brexit is re-forming British politics [1].
It was also inevitable that Brexit would become bound up with ongoing international politics, as the UK sought a reformation of its relationships not just with the EU but within the international order generally. What couldn’t have been predicted, even until very recently, was how that international order was going to be so radically upended, making Brexit at once something rather minor and yet recasting it as a moving part within something so major.
Framing events
All of which is a rather longwinded way of saying that it is becoming increasingly difficult to write this blog, and that the ‘beyond’ parts of its ‘Brexit and Beyond’ title increasingly overweigh the narrowly ‘Brexit’ parts. Both nationally and internationally, the ‘beyond’ issues are now inextricably linked with Trump and the new global divide I wrote about in my previous post. There have been any number of news stories about this global divide in the last fortnight, most of which can be framed through four inter-related questions:
· To what extent will it lead to closer defence and security integration between the EU and the UK, including integration of military operations, equipment procurement, intelligence sharing etc., and under what terms would/ could these occur?
· If such EU-UK defence integration happens, will it be accompanied by, and perhaps make more extensive than might otherwise have been envisaged, deeper economic and regulatory integration?
· Would EU-UK integration in either or both of these senses be precluded by, or go alongside, a divergence in how each partner related to the US, for example and in particular as regards some form of UK-US ‘economic deal’ struck (including perhaps exemption from Trump tariffs) at the same time as the EU-US relationship becomes more hostile (including perhaps a prolonged trade war)?
· To what extent is the US going to detach itself so far from international norms and constitutional propriety as to make it impossible for the UK to sustain anything resembling a normal relationship with it (whether because US malfeasance becomes too gross for the UK to ignore, or because the US turns decisively and aggressively on the UK)?
At least some answers to these questions are likely to emerge over the next couple of months. Meanwhile, there is, arguably, little point in trying to read the runes of every report of every meeting and statement to try to anticipate what these answers will be.
Looking further ahead, new questions will emerge, some of which by definition cannot be predicted, not least because so many of the key actors, especially Trump, are unpredictable in their very nature. But perhaps the most predictable question (though not its answer) is what would happen, including, especially, how would Trump react, if Putin commits new acts of aggression, and in particular if these are committed against the personnel or territory of a NATO member?
An important sub-set of this question is what would happen if the UK (along with other countries) deploys some form of ‘peace-keeping’ force in Ukraine and it comes under direct Russian attack? At that point, certainly if the US fails to give military backing, then we will be in a dramatically new and dangerous situation, which will make Brexit, even in its most extensive meanings, a triviality.
The Reform fiasco
Meanwhile, and to some extent connected, the effects of Brexit on domestic politics continue to unfold. Of these, currently the most fascinating is the colossal mess that Reform UK has got into. That’s not say it is particularly surprising, for all the reasons which led me to write, immediately after last year’s general election result, that “it would not be absurdly risky to bet on Reform imploding before we get to the next election”. True, it hasn’t imploded yet, but, then again, we are less than a year into the electoral cycle.
The continuing presence of Nigel Farage and a Farageist party is, perhaps first and foremost, a reminder of David Cameron’s disastrously ill-judged attempt to see off the threat of UKIP by holding the referendum in 2016. It is arguable that this was not the sole reason the referendum was held, but it is unarguable that it was high on the list. The failure of that decision was, with bitter irony, a double one: not only did it unleash the disaster of Brexit, it also installed Farage and Farageism as a central part of the political landscape, and it did so to the detriment not just of the Tory Party but of British politics generally.
Farage’s continuing presence is also a reminder of his dishonesty and egotism. After all, he resigned UKIP’s leadership shortly after the referendum, his political ambitions supposedly achieved, only to go on to create the Brexit Party and then Reform. No doubt he would present that as ‘defending Brexit’ from ‘betrayal’, but his decision not to challenge Tory incumbents in the 2019 election opened the door for Boris Johnson to enact Brexit in a form which Farage regards as, precisely, a betrayal and a failure. Lacking even that avowed purpose, Reform exists as a rag-bag of populist complaints, most centrally about immigration, as well as being a fresh vehicle for his ego. British populism did not just bring Brexit about, it was also, itself, changed by Brexit since it lost what had been its defining cause.
There’s every reason to think that Farage’s ego, and more specifically his difficult and unpleasant character, is a big part of the current fiasco within Reform. After all, there is a very long list of people he has fallen out with during his political career. It’s true that, looking at some of the names on that list, it isn’t hard to imagine there were, to say the very least, faults on both sides. For that matter his current colleagues, including his fellow MPs, are not exactly the sort of people that anyone half-sane would want to go camping with. Even so, it is hard to deny, and easy to imagine, that Farage is an almost impossible person to work with. Yet, like it or not (and many of his present and former allies are clearly amongst those who do not), his character has a public appeal that no one else on the populist right of British politics enjoys.
Farage’s political strategy
However there has always been more to Farage’s capacity to mobilize significant numbers of voters than his character (or, perhaps more accurately, his persona). Whatever party he has led, he has had a clear strategic sense about the nature of those voters and what appeals to them. He accurately recognized that weirdos like Godfrey Bloom or Gerard Batten did not have that appeal, regardless of their beliefs, but he also recognizes that he himself would not have that appeal if he were openly to embrace far-right politics. Farage’s political skill, and it is a considerable one, is to appear ‘normal’, even genial, and ‘sensible’, even reasonable, in order to appeal to relatively mainstream voters, whilst being convincing to those on the far right who can hear his ‘dog whistles’ (I wish there was a less clichéd term than that).
In this sense, the current blow up should be understood as being about much more than personalities, for all that they are relevant. It is actually about two, related, matters of substance which derive from Farage’s political strategy. One is the autocratic and undemocratic way in which he runs Reform. Whilst this, too, no doubt reflects his character, it also reflects his experience, particularly in UKIP, of a party of what David Cameron in 2006 called “fruitcakes, loonies, and closet racists”. It was a jibe which was all too obviously true and, although that didn’t matter in terms of UKIP’s core support, it did put a ceiling on what it could achieve electorally. The hastily created Brexit Party had similar problems. Hence, when creating Reform, Farage wanted to be able to exert much more control over his party and that, too, was partly a consequence of Brexit since, unlike UKIP, Reform can’t make use of proportionally representative European elections to build a power base.
The related issue of substance is his determination to ensure that his party’s ‘dog whistles’ to the far right remain just that. This means, firstly, trying to exclude those who do not have his consummate skill in judging how to pitch messages so that only the dogs hear them (or, at least, that they are deniable when anyone else hears them). Even more importantly, it means excluding those who do not even attempt such subterfuge, and are openly on the far right. That certainly doesn’t mean, as Farage likes to claim, that he is somehow engaged in marginalizing the far right: rather, he has sought to harness the far right without frightening off other, less extreme, voters. It is therefore no coincidence that, just as Farage left UKIP in 2018 (having already stood down as leader) over its links with Stephen Yaxley-Lennon (aka Tommy Robinson) and the far right, so too are those links central to current events within Reform.
The far-right riots
The immediate roots of these events go back to last summer’s far-right riots and, crucially, to Keir Starmer’s robustness in correctly insisting that they were, indeed, “far-right thuggery”. This caused much outrage on the political right which, whilst largely confected, brought to the fore the relationship between the ‘respectable right’ and far-right extremism. The effect was to expose the two-faced nature of Farage’s entire ‘dog whistle’ strategy of stoking division by, supposedly, ‘just asking questions’ about the causes of the riots whilst insisting that he had never had anything to do with “the Tommy Robinsons and those who genuinely do stir up hatred”.
Shortly afterwards, Robinson was jailed, not in relation to the riots, but for contempt of court and breaking an injunction in relation to his hounding of a Syrian refugee, prompting a far-right rally in his support. Like Farage, Reform Deputy Leader Richard Tice disavowed Robinson, but others, most notably Ben Habib, argued, no doubt correctly, that many of those demonstrating were Reform’s ‘own people’. Habib, already bitter about having been ousted as Co-Deputy Leader (hardly, one would have thought, a job title to excite strong feelings) left Reform in November 2024, citing Farage’s autocracy as his main reason but clearly, as I just suggested, this autocracy and the position on Robinson are linked. At all events, Habib has subsequently been vocal in describing Robinson as “a political prisoner”.
By early January, at Reform’s East Midlands Conference, Lee Anderson, the thuggish former Tory MP who is now his new party’s Whip, was repeatedly interrupted by pro-Robinson hecklers. As I wrote on social media at the time, “… the incipient splits within Reform are a big underpriced story of the next few years (see also Habib's recent resignation). There's a very tricky tightrope between being 'respectable' and being more 'radical' than the Tories.”
Immediately afterwards, and just a day after Trump’s inauguration, Elon Musk, who for months had been displaying sympathy for the rioters, and, like Habib, forthright in supporting Robinson as a ‘victim’ and a ‘political prisoner’, denounced Farage as unfit to lead Reform, and went on to suggest, at least, that Rupert Lowe would be a preferable leader. This made Lowe a potential personal threat to Farage whilst also establishing him as a standard bearer for the right of the Reform Party, symbolized not just by his praise for Robinson but by his open advocacy of “mass deportations”.
This, Lowe assured people, would apply ‘only’ to ‘illegal immigrants’, but for Farage such a policy is “politically impossible” and such language is politically unwise, precisely because of its connotations of the ‘send them all home’ repatriation policies of the far right. From this has flowed Lowe’s suspension from the party amid allegations of bullying, which have been reported to the police, and an increasingly sour war of words from leading figures in Reform, as well as a running social media battle between its different factions. At the same time, Farage’s pro-Russian, pro-Trump, and anti-Ukraine positions are, as mentioned in my last post, making him increasingly vulnerable to criticism from both within and outside his party.
Farage exposed
Whilst many of these issues are not new, what is new is that, for the first time, Farage is being pulled apart simultaneously along all of the contradictory fault lines which define his politics. To recapitulate these fault lines: first, there is contradiction between his ‘hail fellow, well met’ public shtick and the ruthlessness with which he pursues his personal ambitions. Second, there is the contradiction between his attempt to pitch to the political ‘mainstream’ whilst dog-whistling to the far right. Third, there is the contradiction between his pretensions to patriotism and his apologism for Putin. Fourth, and most recent, there is the contradiction between his admiration for Trump and Musk and the now open contempt in which he is held by, at least, the latter.
The last of these has a significance which goes beyond Farage and Reform. Although Musk is alone amongst the US radical right in his (ongoing) open criticism of Farage, he is very far from alone in his associated criticisms of the UK. In particular, the idea that last summer’s riots represented the righteous grievance of those forced to live in a multi-cultural society, along with the myth that those who received jail sentences for their actions were being penalized simply for exercising the right to free speech, is now standard in Trumpist circles, and it enfolds the UK into their wider critique of Europe (regardless of Brexit). It was even alluded to by JD Vance when Starmer visited the White House, although the Prime Minister pushed back against it. It is a certainly a standard belief amongst the UK far right, and Reform supporters more generally, including in their endless jibes about ‘two-tier Keir’.
Farage, of course, is happy to join in with much of that, but is now exposed, more than ever before, in the ‘no man’s land’ he has always wanted avoid, whereby he is neither respectable enough nor radical enough. The result is that his ability to hold together a coalition of voters is diminished. Reform voters now split almost exactly three equal ways between those who think the party would do better, worse, or no differently (or don’t know) without Farage as leader, and the percentage of those voters with a favourable view of Farage has fallen from 91% to 73% over just the last month. Yet being able to create, sustain, and grow an electoral coalition matters more than it ever has, because it is only since Brexit that Farage finally managed to become an MP and to lead a Westminster party which, implausibly but not quite ludicrously, has pretensions to government.
Wider implications
The issue here isn’t so much whether Reform, with or without Farage as a leader, loses electoral support. In fact, for all the battles going on within the party, there is no sign yet of a fall in its support in the opinion polls, and, as political scientist Professor Tim Bale has pointed out, that is very likely because it is only a very vocal minority who are engaged in, or by, those battles. The more significant issue is whether it puts a hard cap on the level of support Reform can ever expect to achieve. If so, that probably puts an end to the idea of a Reform electoral breakthrough. That would be consistent with the suggestion of another leading political scientist, Professor Ben Ansell, that, largely because of Trump, populism generally, and Reform’s populism in particular, has reached a peak. It is an analysis cautiously endorsed by political commentator Robert Shrimsley in the Financial Times (£).
However, if the party continues to poll even close to the mid-twenties it will continue to exert unpredictable effects within our electoral system, including potentially significant gains in by-elections, local elections, and the Welsh Senedd and Scottish parliament elections. That will mean a continuing temptation for both Tory and Labour parties to pander to the sensibilities of actual or potential Reform voters, anchoring mainstream political debate around their agenda. Moreover, the fact that Reform has, in effect, its own TV channel in GB News, and the puniness of its regulation, gives the party an influence well beyond that of formal political representation. Certainly my suggestion at the time of the riots that they could pave the way for a new and better conversation about immigration has proved hopelessly optimistic.
So none of this makes for a neat picture of the shape of post-Brexit politics, and still less is it the basis for a prediction of the shape of things to come. It doesn’t even tell us much about what Farage’s personal fate will be. But the recent buffeting he has received does show the vulnerabilities of post-Brexit populism in Britain and that Trump’s re-election is proving to pose significant problems for it, rather than, as might have been expected, providing a new confidence. And that isn’t just affecting Farage and Reform. Brexiter Atlanticists like Daniel Hannan are suddenly having to recalibrate to a world in which the US is no longer a trustworthy ally (£) although, of course, being Hannan, he draws the fatuous conclusion that the solution is to revive his CANZUK fantasy.
Ultimately, then, there is less of a disconnect between ‘Brexit’ and ‘Beyond’ than I suggested at the beginning of this post. Brexit was always going to leave a long trail of effects on the British polity, including on advocates like Farage, and on the UK’s relations with the wider world. But that was never going to happen in a vacuum; the world was not going to remain static. As it has turned out, not only has the world changed, but it has done so in ways which have shown Brexit and its advocates to be even more adrift and riven by contradictions than they were in 2016.
Note
[1] Vital as these ‘beyond Brexit’ political consequences are, I do think it is also important to keep at least trying to record the ways in which the dull empirical thud of Brexit, in its most basic meaning, keeps punching the bruises it has already created (especially as Brexit apologists continue to trot out bogus arguments to try to downplay its damage). That, too, is more difficult than it used to be as media reporting of the basics has become much sparser. It just isn’t newsworthy any more, unless there is some major anniversary. Nevertheless, some stories make it through, including the report from the Food and Drink Federation that British exports of food and drink to the EU have fallen by a whopping 34.1% since 2019. Circuitously related is the growing awareness of the possibility of food shortages when ‘Phase 3’ labelling rules come into force in Northern Ireland in July under the Windsor Framework (with a concomitant extension of ‘Not for Sale in the EU’ labelling in Great Britain). And circuitously related to that are concerns about impending shortages of animal medicines in Northern Ireland. This is a particularly arcane issue, reaching deep back into the Brexit process, and relating to the way that parts of the original Northern Ireland Protocol were made subject to ‘grace periods’ for implementation. Animal medicines were one product area where implementation was deferred but, unlike human medicines, they were not included in the subsequent Windsor Framework agreement. Now, the already extended grace period is due to expire at the end of the year and, as yet, there is no agreement in place. It is yet another reminder of the consequences of the rush to ‘get Brexit done’, and the many loose ends which are still hanging as a result. As I mentioned in last week’s post, the situation of Gibraltar is another, even bigger, example of that.
It was also inevitable that Brexit would become bound up with ongoing international politics, as the UK sought a reformation of its relationships not just with the EU but within the international order generally. What couldn’t have been predicted, even until very recently, was how that international order was going to be so radically upended, making Brexit at once something rather minor and yet recasting it as a moving part within something so major.
Framing events
All of which is a rather longwinded way of saying that it is becoming increasingly difficult to write this blog, and that the ‘beyond’ parts of its ‘Brexit and Beyond’ title increasingly overweigh the narrowly ‘Brexit’ parts. Both nationally and internationally, the ‘beyond’ issues are now inextricably linked with Trump and the new global divide I wrote about in my previous post. There have been any number of news stories about this global divide in the last fortnight, most of which can be framed through four inter-related questions:
· To what extent will it lead to closer defence and security integration between the EU and the UK, including integration of military operations, equipment procurement, intelligence sharing etc., and under what terms would/ could these occur?
· If such EU-UK defence integration happens, will it be accompanied by, and perhaps make more extensive than might otherwise have been envisaged, deeper economic and regulatory integration?
· Would EU-UK integration in either or both of these senses be precluded by, or go alongside, a divergence in how each partner related to the US, for example and in particular as regards some form of UK-US ‘economic deal’ struck (including perhaps exemption from Trump tariffs) at the same time as the EU-US relationship becomes more hostile (including perhaps a prolonged trade war)?
· To what extent is the US going to detach itself so far from international norms and constitutional propriety as to make it impossible for the UK to sustain anything resembling a normal relationship with it (whether because US malfeasance becomes too gross for the UK to ignore, or because the US turns decisively and aggressively on the UK)?
At least some answers to these questions are likely to emerge over the next couple of months. Meanwhile, there is, arguably, little point in trying to read the runes of every report of every meeting and statement to try to anticipate what these answers will be.
Looking further ahead, new questions will emerge, some of which by definition cannot be predicted, not least because so many of the key actors, especially Trump, are unpredictable in their very nature. But perhaps the most predictable question (though not its answer) is what would happen, including, especially, how would Trump react, if Putin commits new acts of aggression, and in particular if these are committed against the personnel or territory of a NATO member?
An important sub-set of this question is what would happen if the UK (along with other countries) deploys some form of ‘peace-keeping’ force in Ukraine and it comes under direct Russian attack? At that point, certainly if the US fails to give military backing, then we will be in a dramatically new and dangerous situation, which will make Brexit, even in its most extensive meanings, a triviality.
The Reform fiasco
Meanwhile, and to some extent connected, the effects of Brexit on domestic politics continue to unfold. Of these, currently the most fascinating is the colossal mess that Reform UK has got into. That’s not say it is particularly surprising, for all the reasons which led me to write, immediately after last year’s general election result, that “it would not be absurdly risky to bet on Reform imploding before we get to the next election”. True, it hasn’t imploded yet, but, then again, we are less than a year into the electoral cycle.
The continuing presence of Nigel Farage and a Farageist party is, perhaps first and foremost, a reminder of David Cameron’s disastrously ill-judged attempt to see off the threat of UKIP by holding the referendum in 2016. It is arguable that this was not the sole reason the referendum was held, but it is unarguable that it was high on the list. The failure of that decision was, with bitter irony, a double one: not only did it unleash the disaster of Brexit, it also installed Farage and Farageism as a central part of the political landscape, and it did so to the detriment not just of the Tory Party but of British politics generally.
Farage’s continuing presence is also a reminder of his dishonesty and egotism. After all, he resigned UKIP’s leadership shortly after the referendum, his political ambitions supposedly achieved, only to go on to create the Brexit Party and then Reform. No doubt he would present that as ‘defending Brexit’ from ‘betrayal’, but his decision not to challenge Tory incumbents in the 2019 election opened the door for Boris Johnson to enact Brexit in a form which Farage regards as, precisely, a betrayal and a failure. Lacking even that avowed purpose, Reform exists as a rag-bag of populist complaints, most centrally about immigration, as well as being a fresh vehicle for his ego. British populism did not just bring Brexit about, it was also, itself, changed by Brexit since it lost what had been its defining cause.
There’s every reason to think that Farage’s ego, and more specifically his difficult and unpleasant character, is a big part of the current fiasco within Reform. After all, there is a very long list of people he has fallen out with during his political career. It’s true that, looking at some of the names on that list, it isn’t hard to imagine there were, to say the very least, faults on both sides. For that matter his current colleagues, including his fellow MPs, are not exactly the sort of people that anyone half-sane would want to go camping with. Even so, it is hard to deny, and easy to imagine, that Farage is an almost impossible person to work with. Yet, like it or not (and many of his present and former allies are clearly amongst those who do not), his character has a public appeal that no one else on the populist right of British politics enjoys.
Farage’s political strategy
However there has always been more to Farage’s capacity to mobilize significant numbers of voters than his character (or, perhaps more accurately, his persona). Whatever party he has led, he has had a clear strategic sense about the nature of those voters and what appeals to them. He accurately recognized that weirdos like Godfrey Bloom or Gerard Batten did not have that appeal, regardless of their beliefs, but he also recognizes that he himself would not have that appeal if he were openly to embrace far-right politics. Farage’s political skill, and it is a considerable one, is to appear ‘normal’, even genial, and ‘sensible’, even reasonable, in order to appeal to relatively mainstream voters, whilst being convincing to those on the far right who can hear his ‘dog whistles’ (I wish there was a less clichéd term than that).
In this sense, the current blow up should be understood as being about much more than personalities, for all that they are relevant. It is actually about two, related, matters of substance which derive from Farage’s political strategy. One is the autocratic and undemocratic way in which he runs Reform. Whilst this, too, no doubt reflects his character, it also reflects his experience, particularly in UKIP, of a party of what David Cameron in 2006 called “fruitcakes, loonies, and closet racists”. It was a jibe which was all too obviously true and, although that didn’t matter in terms of UKIP’s core support, it did put a ceiling on what it could achieve electorally. The hastily created Brexit Party had similar problems. Hence, when creating Reform, Farage wanted to be able to exert much more control over his party and that, too, was partly a consequence of Brexit since, unlike UKIP, Reform can’t make use of proportionally representative European elections to build a power base.
The related issue of substance is his determination to ensure that his party’s ‘dog whistles’ to the far right remain just that. This means, firstly, trying to exclude those who do not have his consummate skill in judging how to pitch messages so that only the dogs hear them (or, at least, that they are deniable when anyone else hears them). Even more importantly, it means excluding those who do not even attempt such subterfuge, and are openly on the far right. That certainly doesn’t mean, as Farage likes to claim, that he is somehow engaged in marginalizing the far right: rather, he has sought to harness the far right without frightening off other, less extreme, voters. It is therefore no coincidence that, just as Farage left UKIP in 2018 (having already stood down as leader) over its links with Stephen Yaxley-Lennon (aka Tommy Robinson) and the far right, so too are those links central to current events within Reform.
The far-right riots
The immediate roots of these events go back to last summer’s far-right riots and, crucially, to Keir Starmer’s robustness in correctly insisting that they were, indeed, “far-right thuggery”. This caused much outrage on the political right which, whilst largely confected, brought to the fore the relationship between the ‘respectable right’ and far-right extremism. The effect was to expose the two-faced nature of Farage’s entire ‘dog whistle’ strategy of stoking division by, supposedly, ‘just asking questions’ about the causes of the riots whilst insisting that he had never had anything to do with “the Tommy Robinsons and those who genuinely do stir up hatred”.
Shortly afterwards, Robinson was jailed, not in relation to the riots, but for contempt of court and breaking an injunction in relation to his hounding of a Syrian refugee, prompting a far-right rally in his support. Like Farage, Reform Deputy Leader Richard Tice disavowed Robinson, but others, most notably Ben Habib, argued, no doubt correctly, that many of those demonstrating were Reform’s ‘own people’. Habib, already bitter about having been ousted as Co-Deputy Leader (hardly, one would have thought, a job title to excite strong feelings) left Reform in November 2024, citing Farage’s autocracy as his main reason but clearly, as I just suggested, this autocracy and the position on Robinson are linked. At all events, Habib has subsequently been vocal in describing Robinson as “a political prisoner”.
By early January, at Reform’s East Midlands Conference, Lee Anderson, the thuggish former Tory MP who is now his new party’s Whip, was repeatedly interrupted by pro-Robinson hecklers. As I wrote on social media at the time, “… the incipient splits within Reform are a big underpriced story of the next few years (see also Habib's recent resignation). There's a very tricky tightrope between being 'respectable' and being more 'radical' than the Tories.”
Immediately afterwards, and just a day after Trump’s inauguration, Elon Musk, who for months had been displaying sympathy for the rioters, and, like Habib, forthright in supporting Robinson as a ‘victim’ and a ‘political prisoner’, denounced Farage as unfit to lead Reform, and went on to suggest, at least, that Rupert Lowe would be a preferable leader. This made Lowe a potential personal threat to Farage whilst also establishing him as a standard bearer for the right of the Reform Party, symbolized not just by his praise for Robinson but by his open advocacy of “mass deportations”.
This, Lowe assured people, would apply ‘only’ to ‘illegal immigrants’, but for Farage such a policy is “politically impossible” and such language is politically unwise, precisely because of its connotations of the ‘send them all home’ repatriation policies of the far right. From this has flowed Lowe’s suspension from the party amid allegations of bullying, which have been reported to the police, and an increasingly sour war of words from leading figures in Reform, as well as a running social media battle between its different factions. At the same time, Farage’s pro-Russian, pro-Trump, and anti-Ukraine positions are, as mentioned in my last post, making him increasingly vulnerable to criticism from both within and outside his party.
Farage exposed
Whilst many of these issues are not new, what is new is that, for the first time, Farage is being pulled apart simultaneously along all of the contradictory fault lines which define his politics. To recapitulate these fault lines: first, there is contradiction between his ‘hail fellow, well met’ public shtick and the ruthlessness with which he pursues his personal ambitions. Second, there is the contradiction between his attempt to pitch to the political ‘mainstream’ whilst dog-whistling to the far right. Third, there is the contradiction between his pretensions to patriotism and his apologism for Putin. Fourth, and most recent, there is the contradiction between his admiration for Trump and Musk and the now open contempt in which he is held by, at least, the latter.
The last of these has a significance which goes beyond Farage and Reform. Although Musk is alone amongst the US radical right in his (ongoing) open criticism of Farage, he is very far from alone in his associated criticisms of the UK. In particular, the idea that last summer’s riots represented the righteous grievance of those forced to live in a multi-cultural society, along with the myth that those who received jail sentences for their actions were being penalized simply for exercising the right to free speech, is now standard in Trumpist circles, and it enfolds the UK into their wider critique of Europe (regardless of Brexit). It was even alluded to by JD Vance when Starmer visited the White House, although the Prime Minister pushed back against it. It is a certainly a standard belief amongst the UK far right, and Reform supporters more generally, including in their endless jibes about ‘two-tier Keir’.
Farage, of course, is happy to join in with much of that, but is now exposed, more than ever before, in the ‘no man’s land’ he has always wanted avoid, whereby he is neither respectable enough nor radical enough. The result is that his ability to hold together a coalition of voters is diminished. Reform voters now split almost exactly three equal ways between those who think the party would do better, worse, or no differently (or don’t know) without Farage as leader, and the percentage of those voters with a favourable view of Farage has fallen from 91% to 73% over just the last month. Yet being able to create, sustain, and grow an electoral coalition matters more than it ever has, because it is only since Brexit that Farage finally managed to become an MP and to lead a Westminster party which, implausibly but not quite ludicrously, has pretensions to government.
Wider implications
The issue here isn’t so much whether Reform, with or without Farage as a leader, loses electoral support. In fact, for all the battles going on within the party, there is no sign yet of a fall in its support in the opinion polls, and, as political scientist Professor Tim Bale has pointed out, that is very likely because it is only a very vocal minority who are engaged in, or by, those battles. The more significant issue is whether it puts a hard cap on the level of support Reform can ever expect to achieve. If so, that probably puts an end to the idea of a Reform electoral breakthrough. That would be consistent with the suggestion of another leading political scientist, Professor Ben Ansell, that, largely because of Trump, populism generally, and Reform’s populism in particular, has reached a peak. It is an analysis cautiously endorsed by political commentator Robert Shrimsley in the Financial Times (£).
However, if the party continues to poll even close to the mid-twenties it will continue to exert unpredictable effects within our electoral system, including potentially significant gains in by-elections, local elections, and the Welsh Senedd and Scottish parliament elections. That will mean a continuing temptation for both Tory and Labour parties to pander to the sensibilities of actual or potential Reform voters, anchoring mainstream political debate around their agenda. Moreover, the fact that Reform has, in effect, its own TV channel in GB News, and the puniness of its regulation, gives the party an influence well beyond that of formal political representation. Certainly my suggestion at the time of the riots that they could pave the way for a new and better conversation about immigration has proved hopelessly optimistic.
So none of this makes for a neat picture of the shape of post-Brexit politics, and still less is it the basis for a prediction of the shape of things to come. It doesn’t even tell us much about what Farage’s personal fate will be. But the recent buffeting he has received does show the vulnerabilities of post-Brexit populism in Britain and that Trump’s re-election is proving to pose significant problems for it, rather than, as might have been expected, providing a new confidence. And that isn’t just affecting Farage and Reform. Brexiter Atlanticists like Daniel Hannan are suddenly having to recalibrate to a world in which the US is no longer a trustworthy ally (£) although, of course, being Hannan, he draws the fatuous conclusion that the solution is to revive his CANZUK fantasy.
Ultimately, then, there is less of a disconnect between ‘Brexit’ and ‘Beyond’ than I suggested at the beginning of this post. Brexit was always going to leave a long trail of effects on the British polity, including on advocates like Farage, and on the UK’s relations with the wider world. But that was never going to happen in a vacuum; the world was not going to remain static. As it has turned out, not only has the world changed, but it has done so in ways which have shown Brexit and its advocates to be even more adrift and riven by contradictions than they were in 2016.
Note
[1] Vital as these ‘beyond Brexit’ political consequences are, I do think it is also important to keep at least trying to record the ways in which the dull empirical thud of Brexit, in its most basic meaning, keeps punching the bruises it has already created (especially as Brexit apologists continue to trot out bogus arguments to try to downplay its damage). That, too, is more difficult than it used to be as media reporting of the basics has become much sparser. It just isn’t newsworthy any more, unless there is some major anniversary. Nevertheless, some stories make it through, including the report from the Food and Drink Federation that British exports of food and drink to the EU have fallen by a whopping 34.1% since 2019. Circuitously related is the growing awareness of the possibility of food shortages when ‘Phase 3’ labelling rules come into force in Northern Ireland in July under the Windsor Framework (with a concomitant extension of ‘Not for Sale in the EU’ labelling in Great Britain). And circuitously related to that are concerns about impending shortages of animal medicines in Northern Ireland. This is a particularly arcane issue, reaching deep back into the Brexit process, and relating to the way that parts of the original Northern Ireland Protocol were made subject to ‘grace periods’ for implementation. Animal medicines were one product area where implementation was deferred but, unlike human medicines, they were not included in the subsequent Windsor Framework agreement. Now, the already extended grace period is due to expire at the end of the year and, as yet, there is no agreement in place. It is yet another reminder of the consequences of the rush to ‘get Brexit done’, and the many loose ends which are still hanging as a result. As I mentioned in last week’s post, the situation of Gibraltar is another, even bigger, example of that.
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