Johnson quits as May deals with Brexit crisis

For once Jeremy Corbyn, at most times inapt, had it right. “The Chequers compromise,” the Labour Party leader told the British House of Commons, “took two years to reach, and just two days to unravel.”

The Chequers compromise to which he referred was last week’s agreement, if that’s what it was, among members of Theresa May’s chronically divided Conservative government, setting out the terms it would seek for Britain’s exit from the European Union.

It has indeed been two years since Britons, in a fit of the same anti-elite, anti-outsider populism that was to carry Donald Trump to power later that year, voted to withdraw from the EU. Yet with just three months left to reach an agreement with Brussels, not only on the terms of the divorce but of any new post-brexit relationship that might survive the rupture, and with nine months to go until Britain must leave, under Article 50 of the EU treaty, with or without a deal, the May government is only now beginning to flesh out its bargaining position.

The reason for this foot-dragging became clear over the weekend. The truce between the Conservative party’s hardline Euroskeptic faction and the moderate and anti-brexit majority could be sustained only as long as the issue was left vague. The moment the government committed to specifics, as in the deal hammered out at the prime minister’s country residence, one side or the other was bound to feel put out.

At any rate, not two days after the agreement was announced, the minister in charge of negotiating Brexit, David Davis, had resigned, followed shortly thereafter by Boris Johnson, the mercurial foreign secretary.

Davis’s resignation was seen as dignified and principled: as a supporter of a “hard Brexit,” meaning one in which Britain retained a maximum of sovereignty, if necessary at the expense of having no formal trade agreement with the EU, he could not be the public face of a position he regarded as unacceptably soft-boiled.

Johnson’s resignation was, well, Boris: entertaining (he had just invited his European counterparts to a meeting to discuss the security situation in the Balkans, only to stand them all up), unprincipled (he had initially signalled he would acquiesce in the decision of cabinet, only to change his mind) and utterly opportunistic.

May is likely to survive, but her leadership is undoubtedly weakened, and her negotiating position weaker still. How, asked Corbyn, again with unaccustomed acuity, could May hope to reach agreement with the 27 other EU governments, “when she can’t even broker a deal in her own cabinet?”

But of course she can’t. The Chequers agreement may have been an unsatisfactory attempt to bridge the divide between the “hard” and “soft” Brexit positions. But the broader rift is between the Brexiters and reality.

In the referendum campaign, voters were told it would all be very simple. Britain would demand the rest of Europe agree to a very different arrangement than the one in place, in which the U.K. would be relieved of substantially all of the disadvantages of union, notably the loss of sovereignty, so irksome to the Euroskeptics, while retaining all of its advantages. And Europe would agree.

But Europe needs Britain a great deal less than Britain needs Europe. Unless the U.K. were prepared to simply go it alone, with no rules governing trade between itself and the continent other than those that ordinarily apply between member states in the World Trade Organization, it would be very much in the position of a supplicant. That was always apparent — but the government’s evident unpreparedness for such a “no deal” scenario only accentuates the weakness of its bargaining position.

As for Europe, even if it were otherwise disposed to look favourably on Britain’s application, it can hardly be seen to make life easy for would-be breakaway states, lest it soon have a Frexit, Spexit and Itexit on its hands. To be sure, it would also have an interest in preserving some measure of free trade between itself and a post-brexit UK.

It might be something similar to what it has agreed upon with Norway which, in return for broad access to the EU market, is required to pay into the EU budget and accept EU rules, notably with regard to the free movement of goods, services, capital and, crucially, labour: the major sticking point for Brexiters. In other words, much the same obligations as EU members must accept, but without any of the same say in how these are determined.

Or, the EU might be amenable to a more conventional free trade agreement, such as it has negotiated with Canada: with less implications for sovereignty, but without the same degree of economic integration. The one thing it has made clear is that it is not interested in the kind of asymmetric fantasy peddled by the Brexiters.

The Chequers agreement is the May government’s first open acknowledgment of the reality of its position. Characteristically, it fudges on several points. Would it remain a customs union, that is a common external trade policy, with the EU? Yes, but no: it would somehow still be free to strike trade deals with other partners. It would agree to EU rules on trade in goods, but not in services, meaning financial services. Similarly uncomfortable straddles are visible on the European Court of Justice, and even immigration.

The hard-line Brexiters have every right to be dismayed. And, as Davis himself pointed out, this is only Britain’s opening position: how much of it will be left after EU negotiators are through with it is an open question.

Well, yes. That is the reality of Britain’s position: the reality the Brexiters have avoided until now.

They are right to see where this is going. But they have no more ability than May to rescue the country from the fate to which they have consigned it: certainly they have proposed no better plan.

At this point a humiliating Norway-style climbdown looks the best-case scenario.