“Brexit means Brexit.” That’s Theresa May’s most famous slogan. The problem is, it doesn’t really mean anything because the British vote to leave the European Union provided no indication of what leaving would actually entail. And it’s not clear that the people who supported it really agreed on a definition, either.
There were a variety of voices in the Vote Leave camp during the campaign, each presenting different arguments based on their interpretation of Brexit. Nigel Farage wanted a “hard” Brexit, meaning total British independence from European institutions and trade mechanisms. When he was campaigning in favor of Brexit, he tapped British anger towards immigration and E.U. technocrats. On the other hand, Michael Gove’s and Daniel Hannan’s classical liberal case for Brexit was more optimistic, focusing on the opportunities for renewed British leadership in the 21st century. Their arguments highlighted the importance of free trade and strength in international affairs outside of the European Union’s control.
Where did Theresa May’s vision of Brexit fit into all of this? She stayed publicly indifferent during the campaign itself and emerged as an unexpected choice to lead only after the vote. Many Brexiteers were unhappy that a politician who lacked any passion for Brexit wound up as premier in the wake of such epochal change. But the Conservative party’s cupboard by that point was bare: Cameron had opposed Brexit and precedent dictated that he resign. Both Boris Johnson and Michael Gove—who supported Brexit—saw their candidacies for party leader derailed in the aftermath of the vote.
Nonetheless, May quickly constructed a path for leaving the E.U. in line with the law-and-order style she had cultivated as home secretary. Her plan was to take an administrative approach rather than addressing the overarching questions about what Brexit actually meant. She triggered Article 50, a piece of legislation which would start the official process for leaving the European Union, before having decided on a roadmap for Britain’s relationship with the E.U. moving forward. Questions about trade agreements and parliamentary sovereignty were left hostage to negotiations with the European Union. May’s only certain policy objective was ending freedom of movement.
As a result, May became a pariah in her own party, with Eurosceptic Conservative MPs branding her a secret “Remainer.” Last week, the anger building among these Brexiteers erupted, after May released her government’s White Paper on Brexit which suggested that Britain forego judicial and regulatory independence from the E.U.; retain U.K. membership of E.U. agencies and regulations on goods; and even partially remain under the jurisdiction of the European High Courts.
The majority of conservative voices reacted to the government’s proposals with something like outrage. The paper was widely described as a “Brexit betrayal” and ministers began resigning en masse. May’s “soft” Brexit was seen as a betrayal of the clean break from the E.U., for which May’s conservatives antagonists claimed the public had voted.
There followed proposals for a vote of no confidence and public considerations of leadership alternatives. In the end, a group of MPs led by rising star Jacob Rees-Mogg submitted amendments to the government’s proposals. These amendments—such as adapting the customs aspect of the paper to ensure that the U.K. could only collect duties on goods on behalf of the E.U. if there was a reciprocal arrangement—were eventually adopted.
These changes were designed not to improve the proposal, but to act as a poison pill to kill off the government’s customs plan by making it unacceptable to the Europeans. However, there’s no guarantee the amendment will work as intended and the fundamental aspects of the proposals which so angered Brexiteers remain unaltered.
And what would happen if the E.U. calls the bluff of Rees-Mogg and his confederates and accepts their proposal? Most assume this is highly unlikely, but the truth is, no one knows.
Donald Trump’s recent visit to Britain became symbolically entangled with the response to the government’s White Paper, with some conservatives praising Trump’s leadership as a stark contrast to May’s weakness. It seems entirely possible that Brexiteers might turn further from May and towards more unconventional figures, which could signal a new, and unstable, trajectory for British politics. At a rally in London organized to welcome Trump to the country, Brexiteers invited Tommy Robinson and Milo Yiannopoulos to speak.
Americans know all about Yiannopoulos, but may be less acquainted with Robinson: He is a right-wing rabble-rouser currently imprisoned for contempt of court and was therefore unable to attend the rally. His invitation shows the divide between Theresa May and grassroots Brexiteers, whom May has clashed with frequently due to her crackdown on similarly brash right-wing figures.
As conservatives scorn May’s middle-of-the-road approach and turn towards reckless political tactics inspired by Trump, they risk not only sacrificing principle, but political expediency, too. The Brexiteer hope—that Theresa May’s poor Brexit negotiation proposals will force the U.K. to walk away from the E.U. with no trade deal—would cause financial and political upheaval. The Conservative party might well crack under such pressures. And waiting to pick up the pieces will be a Labour party led by Jeremy Corbyn—perhaps the most powerful, and dangerous, socialist parliamentarian Britain has ever seen.
