Two weakened unions, bad-tempered relations between them. Lose. Lose. Lose.
Five years after Britain's departure from the European Union, the anniversary arrives not as a moment of vindication for either side but as a quiet reckoning with shared diminishment. The United Kingdom faces centrifugal pressures on its own internal union — Scottish independence and Irish unification no longer distant abstractions — while the EU has lost a strategic partner precisely when geopolitical gravity demands collective weight. What makes this ledger most sobering is not the damage that was inevitable, but the damage that was chosen: relations between former partners of forty-five years have curdled through conduct that history will likely judge as needlessly reckless.
- The UK's internal unity is fracturing in real time — a Scottish independence referendum is now a matter of when, not if, and Irish unification feels closer than at any point since the 1998 Belfast Agreement.
- Economic wounds are surfacing as pandemic fog clears: British food and drink exports to the EU fell by nearly half in early 2021, and a cumulative £113 billion in service export losses has been calculated since the referendum.
- Europe is not unscathed — anti-EU party support has more than doubled over two decades, and polls show majorities in France, Germany, Italy, and Spain believe the EU's political system is broken.
- Cross-Channel trust has collapsed to a startling degree: only 14 percent of Germans view Britain as an ally, while a fifth see it as a rival — placing it in company closer to Russia than to a partner.
- Ninety percent of the relational damage is attributed to British government conduct — its bombast, rule-breaking, and refusal to build anything beyond the bare mechanics of a trade deal — though the EU's dismissive 'third country' framing has done its own quiet harm.
- The path forward demands a kind of political wisdom neither side has yet demonstrated: distinguishing what can still be repaired from what must simply be endured.
Five years on from the referendum that severed Britain from Europe, the ledger reads the same on both sides of the Channel: loss compounded by loss. The damage is no longer theoretical.
Within Britain, the integrity of the United Kingdom itself has become genuinely uncertain. A Scottish independence referendum will almost certainly arrive within years, with nationalists offering a compelling argument — leave the British union, rejoin the European one. Irish unification, once a distant prospect, now feels more plausible than at any point since the Belfast Agreement made it legally possible. The government speaks of holding the union together but has produced no coherent plan for doing so. Meanwhile, economic costs are becoming visible: food and drink exports to the EU collapsed by nearly half in early 2021, and academic research estimates £113 billion in cumulative service export losses between 2016 and 2019. At the G7 in Cornwall, Britain unveiled a new Atlantic Charter with the United States — eighty years after Churchill and Roosevelt signed the original. The comparison was unavoidable, and painful.
Europe has suffered too, even when Brussels prefers to claim otherwise. Losing a large, wealthy, militarily capable member state at the precise moment the continent needs to project strength is a genuine strategic wound. More troubling is the surge in Euroscepticism at the core: anti-EU party vote shares have more than doubled over two decades, and majorities in France, Germany, Italy, and Spain now say the EU's political system is broken. Post-Brexit Britain has become a benchmark — when the UK's vaccine rollout outpaced the EU's, Europeans noticed, and the contrast proved impossible to ignore.
Cross-Channel relations have curdled in ways that were largely avoidable. Only 14 percent of Germans view Britain as an ally; a fifth see it as a rival. Most of the blame — perhaps ninety percent — belongs to the British government's bombast, its willingness to breach international law, and its refusal to build any structured relationship beyond the bare mechanics of trade. But the European Commission's insistence on calling Britain simply 'a third country' — legally accurate, yet tone-deaf after forty-five years of union — has done its own quiet damage. When a partnership of that length ends, neither side is well served by pretending they were always strangers.
The path forward is long. What is needed, for now, is something closer to wisdom: the capacity to change what can still be changed, to accept what cannot, and — most critically — to know the difference.
Five years after the referendum that split Britain from Europe, the ledger reads the same across both sides of the Channel: loss, loss, loss. Two unions weakened. Relations that need not be this fractured. The damage is no longer theoretical.
Start with Britain. The integrity of the United Kingdom itself is now in question in ways that seemed unthinkable a decade ago. A referendum on Scottish independence will almost certainly happen within the next few years, and the nationalists have a potent argument: Scotland should leave the British union and rejoin the European one. A vote on Irish unification, once a distant prospect, now feels more plausible than at any moment since the Belfast agreement first made it possible in 1998. The government speaks constantly about holding the union together but has offered no coherent plan for actually doing so.
The economic toll is becoming visible as the pandemic's fog lifts. British food and drink exports to the EU collapsed by nearly half in the first quarter of 2021. A rigorous academic study calculated that UK service exports lost £113 billion cumulatively between 2016 and 2019 compared to what they would have been had the country remained in the union. Britain's standing in the world has visibly diminished. At the recent G7 summit in Cornwall, the government unveiled a new Atlantic charter with the United States, marking eighty years since Churchill and Roosevelt signed the original. The comparison was unavoidable and painful: the global reach Britain wielded then against the constrained influence it wields now. Germany and France increasingly see their future through the lens of European sovereignty—the very institution Britain has abandoned.
But Europe has suffered too, even if Brussels and Paris sometimes claim otherwise. Yes, the remaining member states achieved remarkable unity in their negotiations with Britain. Yet losing a large, wealthy, militarily capable member state at the precise moment the continent needs to project strength against rivals like China represents a genuine strategic loss. The union's external power has diminished exactly when it needed to grow.
More troubling still is the surge in Euroscepticism across the continent's core. The vote share of anti-EU parties has more than doubled over the past two decades. In a recent poll, more than half of French, German, Italian, and Spanish respondents said the EU's political system was broken rather than functioning well. Only 46 percent of Germans and 38 percent of French said EU membership was good for their country. These sentiments did not originate with Brexit, but Brexit has sharpened them. Britain now serves as a benchmark. When the UK's vaccine rollout outpaced the EU's, Europeans noticed. When the European Commission bungled vaccine procurement, the contrast became impossible to ignore. Even citizens who believe Brexit was a mistake can see post-Brexit Britain succeeding in specific domains. The union's performance is now measured against an alternative.
Cross-Channel relations have curdled in ways that were entirely avoidable. Most continental Europeans barely think about Britain anymore, and when they do, it is with bewilderment, irritation, or contempt. In a striking finding, only 14 percent of German respondents viewed Britain as an ally—defined as a country sharing their interests and values. Twenty percent saw Britain as a rival. Thirty-four percent called it a necessary partner, the same proportion they assigned to Russia and only slightly higher than China.
Some friction was inevitable. Regulatory regimes will diverge. The Northern Ireland protocol, that awkward compromise designed to square an impossible circle, was always going to require enormous reserves of trust and goodwill to function. Those reserves have been drained. But the current level of mutual suspicion and recrimination was not written into the laws of physics. Ninety percent of the blame belongs to the British government—to Boris Johnson, to lead negotiator David Frost, to the bombast and point-scoring and willingness to breach international law, to the refusal to build any structured relationship with the EU beyond the bare mechanics of trade and withdrawal agreements. A small portion of responsibility, though, lies with the European Commission. In recent conversations, senior officials have repeatedly stressed that Britain is simply "a third country" now—legally accurate, perhaps, but tone-deaf to the reality that Britain and the EU were bound together for forty-five years. When a couple divorces after that long, they do not speak of each other as mere third parties, as strangers. The EU's political leaders, especially the incoming German government, need a more historically grounded and strategically minded vocabulary.
The path forward is long and uncertain. Ideally, Britain will eventually reach a point where a clear majority sees the value of EU membership again, and the EU will be performing so well that even skeptical Britons want back in. For now, what is needed across the Channel is something closer to wisdom: the ability to change what can be changed, to accept what cannot, and to know the difference between them.
Citações Notáveis
Britain and the EU were married for more than 45 years. Imagine someone who had been married for 45 years speaking of their former spouse as just 'a third party', a complete stranger.— Timothy Garton Ash, on the European Commission's dismissive language toward Britain
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
When you say both unions have been weakened, what do you mean by that? Isn't the EU still intact?
Intact, yes, but diminished. The EU lost a major military and financial power at a moment when it needs to stand against China and other rivals. And Euroscepticism is surging in the countries that matter most—France, Germany, Italy, Spain. People are benchmarking the EU against post-Brexit Britain now.
Benchmarking how?
When Britain's vaccine rollout worked better than the EU's, Europeans noticed. They're comparing the EU's performance to an alternative in real time. Even people who think Brexit was a mistake can see Britain doing better in specific areas. That's corrosive.
You mention the Northern Ireland protocol as an awkward fudge. Why is it so difficult?
Because you cannot logically have a closed border between Great Britain and the EU while keeping an open border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland and between Great Britain and Northern Ireland. The protocol tries to square that circle, but it requires enormous trust. That trust is gone.
And you say 90 percent of the blame for bad relations lies with the British government. Why so much?
The bombast, the rule-breaking, the refusal to build any real relationship with the EU beyond narrow trade mechanics. David Frost and Boris Johnson treated negotiation like a game to be won rather than a relationship to be managed.
What about the EU's role?
The European Commission speaks of Britain as simply "a third country" now. Legally correct, but strategically foolish. Britain and the EU were married for forty-five years. You don't speak of your former spouse that way.
So what needs to happen?
Wisdom. The ability to change what can be changed—the tone, the language, the willingness to build something—and to accept what cannot. The regulatory divergence, the competition. That distinction matters.