Ahh, Brexit. Has any portmanteau ever received such airtime? These days, only brunch comes close, thanks to a galvanising jab of avocado and Instagram. But while brunch can stir up some heated debate (I’d align myself with the pre-midday purists), I doubt a three-egg shakshouka will ever inspire such nation-breaking inaction as the EU referendum.

It’s been over three years since the fateful plebiscite, and we’re still about as close to a resolution as we were on the day of the result – perhaps even further, given the looming possibility of a People’s Vote. We arrived at this point through a combination of executive missteps and parliamentary inertia (on both sides of the aisle). May’s cynical call for an election in 2017 was the first portent of our present irresolution. It’s easy to see the rationale behind her decision: she was lightyears ahead of Corbyn in the polls, and had branded her party as best-placed to deliver a sensible Brexit. All the Tories needed to do was scoop up the redundant UKIP vote. However, May announcing her intention to trigger a snap election, after repeatedly stating that she wouldn’t, struck many as an unstable breed of mendacity, rather than the expedient cunning she was perhaps going for. She then continued to stymie her campaign through a series of blunders, including the promise of a vote on fox-hunting, a U-turn on her social care policies, and a marked evasion of several television debates. Her strategists also overestimated the share of votes they were set to absorb from UKIP defectors. UKIP was a one-policy party, and its supporters were only bound by a desire for a referendum on EU membership. Once that referendum had been conducted, its voters migrated to whichever party best represented their interests – and this wasn’t always the Conservatives. Especially in cities, a significant minority of former UKIP voters swung towards Labour, undercutting May’s predicted uptake.

Like a deflated whoopee-cushion, May thus returned to Brussels, bereft of her parliamentary majority and in a fraught confidence-and-supply agreement with the DUP: more brittle pig-iron than Iron Lady. And yet, credit where credit is due, she was able to hammer out a deal, the details of which she announced in mid-November 2018. Her plans were subsequently lambasted in every cranny of Parliament. Opposition parties sensed that Brexit had brought about a schism in the Conservative party, and that they’d be able to woo remain-leaning Tories into a vote against the government. At the same time, the ERG (a coterie of Eurosceptic Tory MPs, headed by Jacob Rees-Mogg) descended into predictable paroxysms over May’s “transition period”. They also had serious reservations regarding the Irish backstop, from which there could be no unilateral withdrawal. The backstop was similarly despised by the DUP, as it would indefinitely  tie Northern Ireland more closely to EU rules and regulations than the rest of the UK. In essence, it was a threat to the fabric of the Union. 

With all of these different factions vying for different Brexits, May’s deal was doomed. On her third attempt to get the withdrawal agreement through Parliament, she lost by 58 votes. The Conservatives were then trounced by Farage’s burgeoning Brexit Party in the EU elections, forcing May to resign the next day. 

 

 

Given the increased political turbulence since Johnson’s ascension to Number 10, I’ve been starting to wonder whether all the intransigence around May’s deal was for nothing. Hardline Remainers, who rejected Brexit in any guise, have unwittingly brought the UK closer than ever to the no-deal precipice, which Johnson is more than happy to guide us over, like so many lemmings. At the same time, the ERG’s insistence on a harder Brexit has only strengthened support for a second referendum, as people begin to panic about the consequences of no-deal; the Liberal Democrats, who also saw a massive resurgence in EU elections, have even determined to revoke Brexit outright. Views on either side of the Brexit spectrum have calcified. But the biggest loser is likely to be the Conservative Party. Last month, Johnson expelled 21 rebels from the party, including influential “moderate” Tories like Philip Hammond and Rory Stewart. There was an understandable sense of righteous anger over the purge, given that ministers, like Priti Patel, who voted thrice against May’s government, now find themselves in positions of power. Johnson no doubt felt that he needed his party fully committed to Brexit if it was to survive a general election. However, the recent Supreme Court ruling against Johnson’s government means that it’s increasingly unlikely he’ll deliver on his “do or die” ultimatum for the UK to exit the EU by 31st October. Instead, he’ll have to ask for yet another extension, this time until January 2020.    

It’s worth pointing out here that such an extension would drag out the Brexit debate to within a year of May’s proposed transition period. The difference, of course, is that under May’s deal we would actually have left. The situation is laughable. In retrospect, it’s apparent that May fully understood the almost insurmountable intricacies of negotiating a workable deal, which explains why her withdrawal agreement contains so many temporary arrangements. Her deal confirms, at least in principle, that we’ve left the EU, but leaves enough time to flesh out the details. This is crucial to resolving the Irish border problem. Sajid Javid, former Home Secretary and current Chancellor of the Exchequer, frequently cited “technological solutions” to the Irish backstop, with the vague caveat that these would only be available “in the future”. These solutions probably include the decentralisation of customs checks away from the border, fully-automated smart trade contracts powered by Blockchain technology, and non-intrusive licence plate detection. But all of this requires infrastructure, and infrastructure requires time.       

It is genuinely depressing to dwell on the taxpayer money and countless civil service work hours that were poured into securing May’s withdrawal agreement. The two extremes facing us, of a no-deal or a cancellation, render all of that worthless. At this late stage, there appears to me only one viable option: a second referendum (although not the one that you’re probably thinking of). The ballot paper ought to read something like this:

On 23rd June 2016, the British electorate voted to leave the European Union. Given this result, would you like to leave:

1. Under the conditions of Theresa May’s deal*
2. With no-deal

*[With the transition period now concluding in December 2021].

Though the thought of remaining in the EU still gives me a frisson of pleasure, I would hope that it’s apparent to everyone that overturning the result of the referendum would inflict profound damage to British society. 51.9% of those who voted in June 2016 would feel, quite justifiably, betrayed. There would be calamitous backlash in a general election, as well as the potential for civil unrest. That is why this alternative referendum is preferable to a People’s Vote. It accepts as a precondition that we are exiting the EU, but offers an opportunity to conduct this departure in an orderly fashion. Remainers, presumably, would rally behind May’s agreement, as would Brexiteers opposed to no-deal. Parliament would then have a specific mandate to execute, rather than just “leaving”, an instruction whose ambiguity has caused such problems. 

 

 

Almost a year on from May’s initial unveiling of her withdrawal agreement, it’s apparent that a failure to compromise has funnelled probability towards opposing edges of the Brexit spectrum. Perhaps, retroactively, we can help heal this divide through an alternative second referendum. There can be no compromise without sacrifice. Remainers will have to accept that a democratically-dubious People’s Vote is untenable; Hard Brexiteers must resign themselves to a transition period. Only then can we control the economic and social repercussions of Brexit, and finally realign our focus towards addressing the issues which fuelled such a rancorous vote in the first place. We can also stop talking about the bloody thing.