A gruesome shock but entirely predictable, Britain stands on the brink of a byelection that serves three purposes: a popularity test for Andy Burnham, a warm-up for the Labour leadership contest, and a crucial gauge of how Labour must change to beat Reform when it matters. The result, Williams argues, is that everyone involved is reaching back to recall the stupidest Brexit arguments from a decade ago and repeating them with increased fervor.
Keir Starmer jumped first, even before the byelection was called. After announcing plans to nationalize steel, an industry already under government control, he made major admissions about Brexit followed by even larger promises. He acknowledged Brexit made Britain poorer, drove migration higher, and reduced security. While not groundbreaking, Williams notes it is surprising to hear the prime minister speak realistically about the EU rather than referencing an alternative universe where Europe begs for reentry.
More surprising still was Starmer’s pledge that his government would be defined by rebuilding ties with Europe and putting Britain at its heart. How that squares with the red lines remains perplexing, yet the statement carries a nostalgic comfort reminiscent of Starmer as Labour’s Brexit secretary in Jeremy Corbyn’s shadow cabinet, where he seemed open to reason and experts. But, Williams writes, it was all just vibes, and the word for such anti-nostalgia is politics.
In comes backbencher Jonathan Hinder, MP for Pendle and Clitheroe, defending the red wall with blunt language. On BBC Radio 4’s Today programme, he said, “If I told this to people in a pub, they’d say, ‘You are off your rocker if you think the priority for the British people right now is to restart this debate.’” He added that Labour had taken a real beating in its working-class heartlands just a week earlier. Williams notes this echoes the 2017 mantra: the British working class all thinks the same, and only I can interpret it.
Wes Streeting declared Brexit “a catastrophic mistake” and that the best for the economy would be to rejoin the EU. While a solid, defensible view shared by over half the British public and 80% of Labour voters, Williams questions whether this Europhilia will lead to concrete action or remains crowd-pleasing vibes aimed at party members.
David Lammy, also on Today, wished everyone would stop talking about Brexit, calling the debate for sixth-formers. He argued Labour’s only path to survival is to stop talking and pull together. Williams dryly notes, “Sure, that always works.”
Brexit broke the connection between what is said and done, promises made and realities that ensue. Since 2016, facts have changed—public opinion, trade balances, geopolitics—yet the language remains static. Williams concludes that this delivers a physical impossibility: the nation stands still while rapidly worsening. She did not see that on the side of a bus.
Zoe Williams is a Guardian columnist.
📝 This article was rewritten with AI assistance based on content from
The Guardian.
Byelection Bingo: Exhausted Brexit Arguments Return, Only Louder
A gruesome shock but entirely predictable, Britain stands on the brink of a byelection that serves three purposes: a popularity test for Andy Burnham, a warm-up for the Labour leadership contest, and a crucial gauge of how Labour must change to beat Reform when it matters. The result, Williams argues, is that everyone involved is reaching back to recall the stupidest Brexit arguments from a decade ago and repeating them with increased fervor.
Keir Starmer jumped first, even before the byelection was called. After announcing plans to nationalize steel, an industry already under government control, he made major admissions about Brexit followed by even larger promises. He acknowledged Brexit made Britain poorer, drove migration higher, and reduced security. While not groundbreaking, Williams notes it is surprising to hear the prime minister speak realistically about the EU rather than referencing an alternative universe where Europe begs for reentry.
More surprising still was Starmer’s pledge that his government would be defined by rebuilding ties with Europe and putting Britain at its heart. How that squares with the red lines remains perplexing, yet the statement carries a nostalgic comfort reminiscent of Starmer as Labour’s Brexit secretary in Jeremy Corbyn’s shadow cabinet, where he seemed open to reason and experts. But, Williams writes, it was all just vibes, and the word for such anti-nostalgia is politics.
In comes backbencher Jonathan Hinder, MP for Pendle and Clitheroe, defending the red wall with blunt language. On BBC Radio 4’s Today programme, he said, “If I told this to people in a pub, they’d say, ‘You are off your rocker if you think the priority for the British people right now is to restart this debate.’” He added that Labour had taken a real beating in its working-class heartlands just a week earlier. Williams notes this echoes the 2017 mantra: the British working class all thinks the same, and only I can interpret it.
Wes Streeting declared Brexit “a catastrophic mistake” and that the best for the economy would be to rejoin the EU. While a solid, defensible view shared by over half the British public and 80% of Labour voters, Williams questions whether this Europhilia will lead to concrete action or remains crowd-pleasing vibes aimed at party members.
David Lammy, also on Today, wished everyone would stop talking about Brexit, calling the debate for sixth-formers. He argued Labour’s only path to survival is to stop talking and pull together. Williams dryly notes, “Sure, that always works.”
Brexit broke the connection between what is said and done, promises made and realities that ensue. Since 2016, facts have changed—public opinion, trade balances, geopolitics—yet the language remains static. Williams concludes that this delivers a physical impossibility: the nation stands still while rapidly worsening. She did not see that on the side of a bus.
Zoe Williams is a Guardian columnist.
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