Did Brexit increase hate crimes? Probably, yes.*

By Dan Devine. Dan is a PhD student in Politics at Southampton. He specialises in comparative politics, political attitudes and quantitative methods (@DanJDevine, personal websiteAcademia.edu).

Tl;DR: Brexit probably caused an increase in hate crimes. I provide descriptive and statistical (linear regression and regression discontinuity) evidence for this claim, but the claim that there was a rise in reporting rather than hate crimes per is also plausible. It’s also positive to see that this is not a lasting effect (at least in the data), although there is still an upward trend in hate crime since 2013.

In the wake of Brexit – when the UK voted to leave the European Union – there was a flurry of activity in newspapers and across the internet reporting a rise in racial tensions and hate crimes. In the following weeks and months, this was widely reported in the Guardian (a lot), the BBCHuman Rights WatchSky NewsThe Telegraph, and I’m sure some others that I’ve missed. Nevertheless, some individuals and outlets (such as Spiked and ConservativeHome) remain extremely sceptical of the claim that the vote to leave the EU was behind a rise in hate crime – and indeed, call into question the validity of the numbers at all. 

As many outlets have picked up in the last week, the government have recently released the full figures of hate crime that cover the referendum and post-referendum months and days. This allows us a much closer look at what exactly was going on around that time (and gives me a chance to try out some new ideas at visualising data). Here, I take a look at these numbers, put them through some rough-and-ready statistical tests, and look at some other explanations of the findings. In general, though, the evidence is overwhelming that Brexit did cause a rise in hate crime. Nevertheless, it is encouraging that (at least according to the data) this does not seem to be a ‘lasting effect’, as The Independent reports.

What is hate crime?

Many of the biggest critiques of the data concern what is meant by ‘hate crime’. Hate crimes in general are defined as ‘any criminal offence which is perceived, by the victim or any other person, to be motivated by hostility or prejudice towards someone based on a personal characteristic’. However, the data I use here is focused specifically on racially or religiously aggravated offences (from now, I will just call these hate crimes). This includes crimes such as: assault with or without injury, criminal damage, public fear or distress, and harassment. This also includes graffiti of a racist nature (presumably under the latter two categories), and attacks on asylum seekers or refugees (regardless of their race). 

This does mean that essentially, anyone can report something as a hate crime if they perceive it as such. In addition, it’s true that a majority of these cases go unsolved – about a quarter of offences are taken to court. I don’t want to get into the territory of disagreeing with the very definition of hate crimes (or how they’re reported) – but it’s worth being open about what is behind the analysis.

An increase in hate crime is descriptively clear

At first glance, it is clear that there was a rise in hate crime surrounding the Brexit referendum. The first graph below shows hate crimes by month since 2013. Although there is always a seasonal effect – hate crimes increase over summer – the sharp rise in June and July 2016 is startling, and the drop off in August is not particularly drastic (or at least as drastic as we would hope). From this longer-term perspective, the summer months of 2016 are outliers in the recent history of hate crime. It should be noted, however, that there is a clear upward trend in hate crime since 2013; the low point of 2016 is around the same as the high point of 2013. This upward trend should send a warning to those interested in social cohesion.


It’s also possible, with the Home Office data, to have a more fine-grained analysis. The graph below presents daily data for the months of May, June, July and August. Once again, the dashed horizontal line indicates when the referendum took place. The interesting part of this is the sudden increase the day after the referendum, which persists for several days, peaking approximately a week after (more on this later).  There is, as in the monthly data, a slow decline to pre-referendum levels.


From both of these graphs, it is clear that there was a peak in hate crime surrounding the referendum. But there is also a lot of variability, and some claim that this is not necessarily down to the referendum. In lieu of suitable data to test the competing claims, I wanted to look at this statistically as best I could.

And the differences are statistically significant

To do this, I took two approaches. I make no claim that these are conclusive. They are relatively back-of-the-envelope tests, but I think they are nonetheless strong evidence for the impact of Brexit on hate crimes (for those interested, details are at the end). The first tests how much variation can be explained by the referendum, and how many hate crimes can be attributed to Brexit. What the results indicate is that Brexit increased hate crimes by about 31 a day (if we use the daily data), or by 1600 a month (if we use the monthly data). Due to the few months following the referendum, I would say the daily data is more accurate. Importantly, the results indicate that Brexit explains about 35% of the crimes in the days following Brexit – which is a statistically and substantively significant amount.

But regressions are flawed for a range of reasons, especially when done like this. As is clear from above, hate crimes slowly decrease after the peak. In other words, June and July are huge outliers. So, as another check I carried out a regression discontinuity test (again, details at the end). This narrows the focus to the days surrounding the referendum, and essentially treats the referendum as an experiment: the day of the referendum and afterwards are those ‘treated’ with the experiment, whilst those before are the control group. In other words, there should be no real difference between June 21st and June 24th other than the referendum.

The results are the same. It is statistically significant. Moreover, in the ‘RD Plot’ at the end of the post, you can see how this relationship changes dramatically. Put another way: the days either side of the referendum are fundamentally different, and the only plausible explanation is the referendum. Indeed, this is what the regression discontinuity provides extremely strong evidence for.

But was there really an increase in hate crime?

The evidence in the data is extremely strong. However, there can be a few objections which are more theoretical. The first, and most important, is that the difference might be due to an increased awareness and therefore increased reporting (this is what the police claimed at the time). In other words, hate crimes did not increase, but the reporting of them did. This is certainly plausible.

In the days following the referendum, I find this hard to believe. Why would people be more likely to report hate crimes following a referendum? This did not happen after the Charlie Hebdo attacks, or Paris attacks, or other elections, or the start of the Palestine-Israel conflict – events which are more closely tied to the potential for hate crime. It only increased slightly even after the murder of Lee Rigby. The reverse is much more plausible: that hate crimes (remember, this includes damage to property and graffiti) ensued after the referendum. However, the peak of hate crimes occurred a week after the referendum. This is surely likely to be influenced by media coverage of the previous rises. Again, I think it is likely that there was indeed increased reporting of hate crimes, in response to national media coverage and the existence of more hate crime in general. In other words, I think it was a bit of both, with more hate crimes leading to coverage and more reporting (we must also remember that hate crimes are still hugely under-reported). 

Other claims I find less appealing. One might just say it is a coincidence. The statistical weight of evidence is, for me, far too strong for that. It is far less than a 1% chance that this was just a random increase which happened to occur at the exact time of the referendum. Other claims might argue about the definition of hate crime, how they are accounted for, and how few are brought to court. These are not the focus of this post – not because they’re not important, but because they can’t be drawn from the evidence here.

Brexit, hate crime and the future

A lot of coverage has argued that the atmosphere in the UK is increasingly toxic and intolerant. The data released only extends a few months after the referendum, so we cannot be sure of what’s actually happening. But from the existing data, I would conclude that the actual impact of Brexit on hate crimes was a short-lived one, and that the effect will decrease over time.

However, I would also suggest, on a more negative note, that all Brexit did was mobilise latent attitudes into behaviour. In other words, I do not think it changed attitudes that much, but acted as a catalyst to change those attitudes into actual actions – and hate crimes. This is in part evidenced by the general upward trend in hate crimes since 2013. For what it’s worth, going forward, the media and politicians need to be extremely careful not to stoke the flames of these attitudes. The referendum has shown that it does not necessarily take much to spark an increase in hate crimes. Other catalysts are possible. And it’s important that, when the next one comes, it is much harder to translate these beliefs into actions. 

*Probably = almost certainly


Statistical/methodological notes:


Graphics and tests were produced in the software package R, using data from the Home Office. The background design for the graphs was taken from code by Max Woolf

Summary statistics for the two data sets used (monthly and daily data):

Statistical Tests

Firstly, I ran a basic regression on both the daily and monthly data. This uses the referendum to ‘predict’ the variation in hate crimes after the referendum. The regressions were run using the variable ‘brexit’ as a binary predictor for the dependent variable ‘hate.crime’. Clearly for the monthly data, this is hugely unbalanced, so should be treated with a bucket load of caution. The daily data is more stable.


The regression discontinuity used the day after the referendum as the cut off. This is because the referendum really would not have had an effect until the result. Nevertheless, it is centred around 0, the day of the referendum. It is statistically significant as well. Additional analysis by Professor Will Jennings, using a time series intervention model, confirmed the findings here. The debate about whether to use a time series or discontinuity approach continues…


The R code used is as follows. You will need the theme function downloadable from here. If you’d like the data, please contact me (D.J.Devine@Soton.ac.uk)

setwd(“”) # set your working directory

hate <- read.csv(“day.hate.csv”) # read in the data
hate2 <- read.csv(“month.crimes.total.csv”)

install.packages(“rdrobust”) #install packages
install.packages(“ggplot2”, dependencies = TRUE)
loadfonts() # note, loading the fonts package will take considerable time depending on the machine
pdf(“plot_garamond.pdf”, family=”Garamond”, width=4, height=4.5)

rdrobust(hate$hate.crime, hate$since.ref, c = 1 ) # regression discontinuity
rdd_est <- rdrobust(hate$hate.crime, hate$since.ref, c = 1 )
rdplot(hate$hate.crime, hate$since.ref, c = 1)

stargazer(hate, type=”html”,
title = “Summary Statistics for Daily Data”)
stargazer(hate2, type=”html”,
title = “Summary Statistics for Monthly Data”) # summary statistics, output in HTML

linear.day <- lm(hate$hate.crime ~ hate$brexit) # regular regression on day
linear.month <- lm(hate2$hate.crime ~ hate2$brexit) #… and months
stargazer(linear.day, linear.month, type=”html”,
title = “The Effect of Brexit on Hate Crimes”,
column.labels = c(“Daily Crime”, “Monthly Crime”),
coviariate.labels=”Brexit”) # table of the regression

month.crime.plot <- ggplot(data=hate2, aes(x=id, y=hate.crime)) +
fte_theme() +
geom_line(color=”#c0392b”, size=1.45, alpha=0.75) +
geom_vline(xintercept=42, linetype = “longdash”, color = “gray47″, alpha = 0.7) +
geom_text(aes(x=42, label=”Referendum”, y=2300), colour=”gray36″, size=8, family=”Garamond”)+
ggtitle(“Hate Crimes in England and Wales, 2013-2016”) +
labels=c(“June 2013”, “Dec 2013”, “June 2014”, “Dec 2014”, “June 2015”, “Dec 2015”, “June 2016”)) +
labs(y= “# Hate Crimes”, x=”Date”) +
theme(plot.title = element_text(family=”Garamond”, face=”bold”, hjust=0, size = 25, margin=margin(0,0,20,0))) +
theme(axis.title.x = element_text(family=”Garamond”, face=”bold”, size = 20, margin=margin(20,0,0,0))) +
theme(axis.title.y = element_text(family=”Garamond”, face=”bold”, size = 20, margin=margin(0,20,0,0))) +
geom_hline(yintercept=2000, size=0.4, color=”black”) # monthly graph

day.crime.plot <- ggplot(data=hate, aes(x=id, y=hate.crime)) +
fte_theme() +
geom_line(color=”#c0392b”, size=1.45, alpha=0.75) +
geom_vline(xintercept=54, linetype = “longdash”, color = “gray47″, alpha = 0.7) +
geom_text(aes(x=54, label=”Referendum”, y=85), colour=”gray36″, size=8, family=”Garamond”) +
ggtitle(“Hate Crimes in England and Wales, May-August 2016”) +
scale_y_continuous(limits=c(75,220)) +
scale_x_continuous(breaks=seq(14,123, by=14),
labels=c(“14 May”, “28 May”, “11 June”, “25 June”, “9 July”, “23 July”, “6 August”, “20 August”)) +
labs(y= “# Hate Crimes”, x=”Date”) +
theme(plot.title = element_text(family=”Garamond”, face=”bold”, hjust=0, size = 25, margin=margin(0,0,20,0))) +
theme(axis.title.x = element_text(family=”Garamond”, face=”bold”, size = 20, margin=margin(20,0,0,0))) +
theme(axis.title.y = element_text(family=”Garamond”, face=”bold”, size = 20, margin=margin(0,20,0,0))) +
geom_hline(yintercept=75, size=0.4, color=”black”) # daily graph


How not to write about female leaders

By Beata Rek, PhD student in Politics, @BeataRek (https://twitter.com/beatarek). You can find more about Beata here.


As Angela Merkel, Theresa May and Hillary Clinton, as well as many other women, rise to the political top, it may be reasonable to theorise that the glass ceiling is no longer a barrier for women in politics. However, the situation of female politicians might not be quite as simple as it may seem at first sight. Indeed, although women could have smashed the glass ceiling into smithereens, it does not yet mean that all the issues which they face – for example media coverage – are over.

When analysing this year’s press coverage of the Conservative leadership election, at some point I observed a significant increase in the number of articles about female leaders from different parts of the globe. This was around the time when all male candidates were eliminated one by one, and the election turned into a two-woman race. However, what the media gave with one hand by praising female politicians for all their hard work and achievements, it took away with the other by referring to them as ‘cleaners’ who are there to pick up the pieces of their male predecessors. Moreover, the media undermined their authority by suggesting that women might have won their positions only as a result of political instability. An article in the Guardian suggesting that ‘all we need is just someone who will lead us out from the mess‘ and a piece in the Independent arguing that Theresa May “is criticised for being dull – but that’s exactly what Britain in turmoil needs” are just a few of many examples.

Even though the press give the impression of writing about female politicians in a positive light, in reality it also sends a veiled, negative message. First of all, by writing that women are cleaning the mess made by men, the media did not present women as an equal part of the political scene. Indeed, ‘othering’ women from male politicians has been previously described in the academic literature and examples of such practices include unnecessarily labelling their gender (and not doing so for males) or emphasising how ‘rare’ is a woman’s appointment for the particular office. Similarly, reducing the role of female politicians to fixing the damage done by men does not aid creating a gender-equal environment, and potentially limits their chances for being elected in the future as well as undermines their authority.

Second of all, while writing about May and Leadsom, the press had a tendency to mention that the election is taking place in the time of political crisis. One message from so-constructed statements is that women’s success might not be related to their abilities, but rather to unusual political circumstances. This might thwart their position as candidates who are able to win in every situation, while in the future, once the crisis is over, this could also pose a question whether a woman is still a good choice. Therefore, the media could devaluate the candidates, by linking their success with times of turmoil, rather than attributing it to their experience and potential ability to successfully run a country.

While in the past there have been more severe examples of gendered coverage, framing of females as ‘political cleaners’ is yet another confirmation that more changes in press attitudes towards women are required. It is a well-established fact that women are a part of politics for quite a while now, and thus it is shameful that in 2016 the media still relegate women to “postmodern Elektras in suits and rubber gloves” who are supposed to clean the mess caused by men.

Lessons for Jeremy Corbyn from the Argentinian left

By Pia Riggirozzi, Associate Professor in Global Politics at the University of Southampton (@PRiggirozziAcademia.edu). You can find more posts by Pia here.


Jeremy Corbyn won a decisive victory over Owen Smith in a second Labour Party leadership contest on Saturday. With it Corbyn not only strengthened his authority but also the right to lead his party. This election was interesting on many counts, not least because it opens questions about where political power and legitimacy reside. The emergence of Corbyn in Labour politics has been politically and ideologically divisive from the outset, confirming a chasm between what is considered the Labour establishment, and ‘the people’ who have rallied to Corbyn’s support, including unions and local activists. Corbyn has revealed his intention to give more prominence to ‘the people’, to ‘do things differently’, and to build a more just and decent society. These promises put a spin on the Labour Party, reclaiming its role within the global resistance to neoliberalism.

Take Argentina, for example. From 2001 to 2015, the challenge to neoliberalism came from electorates that refused to accept parties committed to free markets. Furthermore, Kirchnerismo, the movement associated with the legacy of the 12 years administration of Cristina Fernández de Kirchner and her late husband Néstor, led on the promise of moving beyond neoliberalism, ‘putting politics at the service of people and the economy at the service of the well-being of all citizens’. And it did so in the context of a global political economy where rising commodity prices and strong commercial and financial links with China gave the Kirchners resources to focus efforts on Argentina’s poor. The nation made significant progress on reducing poverty, introduced universal child benefit plan as well as higher pensions, and the expansion of civil rights, including same sex marriage. But this political project undoubtedly proved to be very divisive. For some, it represented a real commitment to prosperity and the expansion of citizenship rights. For others, it represented a quasi-authoritarian, state-led interventionist system, leading to mistaken exchange rate policies, ruinous energy subsidies and unsustainable fiscal deficit. With the economy slowing and inflation worsening, this polarisation explains Kirchnerism’s defeat in November 2015, and a swing to political and economic conservatism with the election of Mauricio Macri.

As for Corbyn, he won the mandate to do something different and he will thus have to provide an alternative to the unravelling of neoliberalism in the UK, where Labour has so far failed to refashion a social contract of ‘capitalism with a human face’ while Conservatives, caught off-guard by the Brexit vote, double-down on their endorsement to an economic model based on rising inequalities.

SUVs and suspicion: climate change scepticism on the populist right

By Dr. Eloise Harding, Teaching Fellow in Political Theory at the University of Southampton (Academia.edu)


“It’s snowing and freezing in NYC. What the hell ever happened to global warming?”

Tweeted by @RealDonaldTrump, 21/03/2013

With this tweet, Donald Trump – now a presidential hopeful – places himself firmly in the canon of populist climate change scepticism. This embodies some of the hallmarks of Trump’s rhetoric: sustained use of conspiracy theories and greater faith placed in big business than in science. It also ties in to a wider ideological pattern of climate change scepticism (and occasional denial) on the political right. At the core of this ideological tendency lie the following concepts: deep anthropocentrism, technological optimism (also known as Prometheanism) and a suspicious interpretation of the motives and intentions of environmentalists.

Climate change scepticism is a broad field which spans from the left liberal Bjorn Lomborg to right-wing populists such as Trump and UKIP MEP Roger Helmer. The common elements named above are shared across this spectrum: the difference lies in how they are framed. In particular, deep anthropocentrism focuses on a different set of human interests when applied by the populist right, and a ‘green scare’ becomes almost a logical conceptual extension of the earlier ‘red scare’ in the US context.

Deep anthropocentrism, broadly speaking, refers to the assumption that ‘the needs and desires of humankind represent the crux of our assessment of the state of the world’ (Lomborg 2001, 11). Anthropocentrism is decontested in such a way that human interests are perceived to be directly threatened by excessive concern for the nonhuman world. These human interests range from the treatment of pandemics (threatened by competing for resources with environmental concerns) in Lomborg’s case, through discussion of the benefits of fossil fuels to the global poor, to the populist end of the spectrum in which conceptual stretching comes into play. Marc Morano of the website Climate Depot expresses outrage at a particular potential extinction, arguing that ‘we’re allowing the American SUV to die right before our eyes’ (Klein 2014, 32). This is a broader-than-usual conception of human interests, and one which is likely shaped by proximity to business interests. A cynic might also suggest that, in the case of politicians, reassuring the public that their current habits need not change is liable to win votes.

The interpretation of environmental campaigners’ motives, Naomi Klein notes, is in the US case drawn almost unchanged from Cold War rhetoric regarding tendencies perceived as left-wing. The rhetoric of individual freedom – decontested as freedom to pollute, rather than (say) freedom to breathe clean air – features strongly. There are two strands in play here: firstly the perceived infringement on liberty by legislation designed to limit pollution, and secondly the apparent fear that an authoritarian (by most readings communist) regime is lurking behind the ecological façade.

See for example the predictions of Bay Area Tea Party activist Heather Gass:

“One day (in 2035) you will wake up in subsidised government housing, eating government subsidised food, your kids will be whisked off by government buses to indoctrination training centres while you are working at your government assigned job on the bottom floor of your urban transit centre village because you have no car and who knows where your aging parents will be but by then it will be too late! WAKE UP!!!!”

(Cited Klein 2014, 38: original punctuation and capitals)

Ms Gass, Klein points out, is responding to relatively mild sustainability initiatives with minimal impact on everyday life.

Factors more familiar in the context of the market economy are also brought into play here. Presidential hopeful Donald Trump is on record as stating that ‘The concept of global warming was created by and for the Chinese in order to make U.S. manufacturing non-competitive’ (Tweeted by @RealDonaldTrump, 06/11/12). The common thread here is a suspicion of the ‘other’: be it the left or a rival economic power, the populist strand of climate change scepticism hinges on a perception of environmental discourse as a smokescreen set up to mask something less benign.

While Lomborg and his ilk make it their mission to debunk climate science (albeit on dubious grounds at times), the populists prefer to elide the issue entirely by citing shadowy paymasters in the background of the scientific establishment or merely by dismissing evidence in favour of the sort of wild claim made by Trump above. If anything, claims originating from the realm of conspiracy are harder to disprove than those drawn from the realm of science, since contradictory evidence is no more readily available than the confirmatory variety.

The likely solution to this problem hinges on recognising the debate as a political, rather than scientific, one and acting accordingly. The approach taken by climate scientist Mark Maslin sets parameters as to which aspects are up for discussion (for example the nature of human interests, and the question of whether nonhuman interests should be considered) and which are not. As we adjust to the Anthropocene era – the first geohistorical period in which humans have had more impact on the planet’s development than natural forces – it is reasonable to insist as Maslin does that the scientific aspect of climate change be placed firmly in the latter category.






Can the Labour Party work again?

By David Owen, Professor of Social and Political Philosophy at University of Southampton (@rdavidowen, Academia.edu). You can find more posts by David here.


In The Discourses, the infamously astute republican thinker Niccolo Machiavelli argued that the strength and vitality of the Roman Republic compared to other republics lay in the fact that it successfully institutionalised the inevitable antagonism of the people and the nobles in such a way that each held the threat posed to the republic by the other in check and hence republican liberty was preserved. Mercilessly mocking the pieties of republican thinkers who imagined a harmonious transcendence of this antagonism, Machiavelli recognised that a sustainable balance of opposing forces could produce something stronger and more resilient than efforts at harmonious unity could realistically hope to achieve. Machiavelli’s insight is one that the Labour Party, in the midst of its current travails, would do well to remember since the history of the Labour Party is also one of antagonism between opposed forces. Simplifying somewhat we can see the current implosion as a recurrence of a tension that has structured the history of the Party from its inception between a Left that is focused on Labour as a transformative social movement and a Right that is focused on the acquisition of Parliamentary power (with plenty of folk in between). When the Labour Party has functioned at its best, the role of the Left has been to keep the Right honest, to block its tendency to surrender too much in its electoral pursuit of power, to prioritize short-term tactics over long-term strategy, and the role of the Right has been to keep the Left focused on the point that principle is impotent in the absence of power, that sacrificing electoral success (or deluding yourself concerning the prospects of such success) for ideological reasons surrenders the field to an opponent who will not advance the interests of the people that the Labour Party is meant to serve. There are, though, relatively few points in its fractious recent history in which the organisation of the Labour Party has successfully institutionalized this antagonism, although it is vital to its ability to succeed as a political party.

Today it seems that the Labour Party is closer to a split than anytime since 1981. The Left with its Leader in place has responded to a rebellion of the vast majority of its MPs by reaching, once again, for its long established vocabulary of betrayal and plots, asserting its claim to represent the true flame of socialism and, at times, dismissing the importance of becoming the governing party. The Right draws on its long-practised appeal to electorability, to being a credible government in waiting, asserting its claim to represent those who will suffer once more if the field of government is effectively abandoned to Tory rule. Meanwhile Corbyn is holding firm and leadership challenges by Eagle and Smith are already on the table, while NEC decisions are surrounded in a penumbra of recrimination. There is almost no hope of compromise.

So let’s stand back from the field of internecine conflict and ask if an institutional change might help alter the terrain. Suppose, for example, the role of Leader of the Labour Party were divided into three roles. The Chair of the Party, elected by members, who has the role of re-building Labour as a social movement across the country. The Leader of the PLP, elected by the MPs, with the role of mounting effective parliamentary government and opposition. The General Secretary of the Party, elected by members and MPs (through an electoral college), who occupies the role of organising party campaigns and, with the other two leaders, working out its strategy. Such a structure would aim not to overcome but to balance the tensions between Left and Right – as Labour Party structures have generally tried to do – in order to realise the strength and vitality of the Labour movement in a parliamentary form.

How might this help the Labour Party in its current crisis? It is relatively easy to see Jeremy Corbyn’s real strengths coming to the fore in the role of Chair of the Party without being undermined by his real weaknesses. Similarly the General Secretary role is a natural fit for Tom Watson (and others like Stella Creasy). As for Leader of the PLP, well there are several plausible candidates other than those currently standing against Corbyn: Lisa Nandy, Keir Starmer, Dan Jarvis would be among those uncluttered by the past. No doubt there are flaws in this proposal, it would be surprising if there were not, but my point in proposing it for consideration is to draw attention to the point that the problems bedevilling the Labour Party are not new and are not likely to be solved simply by changes of personnel. Rather it needs to think seriously about its organisation and how is structures the division of leadership responsibilities in order to use its internal antagonisms as a source of strength rather than weakness.

After Brexit, What Next? Not Much Mandate for Anything…

By Ben Saunders, Associate Professor in Political Philosophy at University of Southampton (@DrBenSaunders, Academia.edu).


As the dust settles after June’s referendum, it’s notable that the leaders of the Leave campaign (Johnson, Gove, Farage, Leadsom) have all vacated the main stage, leaving it to others to negotiate Britain’s exit from the EU. This is probably wise on their part, not only because the political divorce is likely to produce considerable short-term discomfort, but also because it seems that no one had any clear post-exit strategy.

We’re told that the British people have spoken and their will must be respected. But, even setting aside reports of widespread protest voting and regretful Leavers, it’s not clear what ‘the people’ (or 52% of them) voted for, beyond the obvious (leaving the EU). Leaving the EU doesn’t itself specify what alternative arrangements should be put in place.

Some want to withdraw as completely as possible from the European project – in particular, in order to control migration. Call this Total Exit, or TE for short. But not everyone in the Leave campaign favours TE. Others made quite clear that they welcome trade and cooperation with our European neighbours, they merely oppose the EU organisation and the threat of a federal European state. These people would be happy for the UK to adopt a position like Norway or Switzerland, not an EU member but not so different in practice. For want of a better label, call this Weak Exit or WE. (For simplicity, I’ll only consider two alternatives, though there are many possibilities.)

Obviously, these alternatives are incompatible. If the UK opts for WE, then we will have no more control over migration or over laws and regulations that continue to bind us. The referendum result will, officially, be respected – we’ll be out of the EU – but many of the 52% won’t be satisfied. But, on the other hand, if we got for TE then, though we’ll have control over these things, we won’t have the strong relations with Europe that were promised and, further, this is more likely to cause great economic disruption than WE. Again, a significant number of the 52% are likely to be dissatisfied – while they may have wanted out of the EU, they didn’t necessarily want TE.

It might be that the 52% are so strongly committed to leaving the EU that they would prefer either TE or WE to continued membership, but I doubt all of them feel this way. Someone who dislikes loss of sovereignty, but is also concerned about the possible economic effects of Brexit, might reasonably prefer WE to Remain, but also prefer Remain to TE. That is, their preferences might be WE > R > TE (with ‘R’ standing for ‘Remain). If they were moderately optimistic about what ‘Leave’ meant (i.e. WE), they would vote for Leave, but they would prefer Remain if the alternative were TE.

Conversely, someone whose chief concern was migration, while ideally wanting TE, might prefer Remain to WE. The Leave campaign emphasized the threat of Turkey joining the EU but, as a member, the UK would have a veto over this. If the UK ends up like Norway, having to accept free movement but without that veto, then the UK would actually have less control over migration than before. So it could be perfectly consistent for someone to prefer Remain over WE, even if their first choice would be TE. That is, TE > R > WE.

The Leave campaign was actually a coalition of people wanting inconsistent things. Some were voting for TE and some for WE. Since we can’t have both of these, it’s likely that a considerable number of Leave voters will end up disappointed, whatever the eventual outcome – and some of them might even have preferred to remain in the EU to the eventual outcome.

Given the closeness of the result, it might seem reasonably likely that, given a choice between ‘Remain or TE’ a majority of the population would have voted to Remain and, likewise, that given a choice between ‘Remain or WE’ a majority of the population would have voted to Remain. However, this isn’t necessarily the case. So far, I’ve only highlighted divisions amongst the Leavers, but the Remain voters might also have been influenced by lack of clarity over the options.

No doubt many amongst the 48% who voted to Remain prefer that to either TE or WE. However, it could be that some were simply pessimists about the likely consequences of Brexit. Suppose, for example, that someone would really prefer WE to Remain and Remain to TE (i.e. WE > R > TE). Such a person might nonetheless have voted to Remain if they (pessimistically) thought that Brexit was more likely to result in TE than WE. Had the ballot in fact given the choice between ‘Remain or WE’ then they would have switched their vote from Remain to WE. Likewise, someone whose preferences were TE > R > WE might have voted Remain had they feared that Leave would result in WE.

So, even if some Leavers would have voted Remain, given this choice, it’s also the case that some who actually voted to Remain might have voted to Leave, given a more concrete proposal. For all the talk about ‘respecting the will of the people’ the problem is that there are more than two options. The referendum didn’t really present a choice between two clear options, but rather a choice between the status quo and a mystery box. Now we’ve chosen to open the box, what’s inside is still unclear.

Though the referendum was not legally binding, I think it would be politically impossible for the government to ignore the result. The problem, however, with respecting the will of the people is identifying what it is that the people want. Given that the only really clear outcome of the referendum is that the people are deeply divided, and that both the Conservative Party and Labour Party have been plunged into leadership contests, probably the only certainty is that the political landscape will be unsettled for some time.

The shadow of Brexit: delegating or pooling sovereignty?

By Pia Riggirozzi (University of Southampton) and Diana Tussie (FLACSO/Argentina).

Pia Riggirozzi is Associate Professor in Global Politics at the University of Southampton (@PRiggirozziAcademia.edu). You can find more posts by Pia here.


On 23rd June, the United Kingdom voted to leave the European Union through a non-binding yet politically compelling referendum. The result was a close 48% remain and 52% leave, demonstrating a very divided society. This division is largely due to a combination of citizen frustration with an insulated and arrogant ruling elite and insensitive political leadership leading to apparently widespread support for anti-politics parties such as UKIP and insensitive political leadership and, more profoundly, a political-economic project that seems to be cutting away, wilfully and needlessly, at the welfare system and social contract that have hitherto guaranteed social peace in Britain. As we have indicated somewhere else, this is also part of the unravelling of neoliberalism in the UK where the Right is failing to impose an economic model based on rising inequality and the Left unable or unwilling to refashion a social contract of ‘caring capitalism’ or ‘capitalism with a human face’. As a society it manifested some deeply disturbing moral, emotional and human issues of ‘national’ identity preceding any responsibility towards ‘others’, being those immigrants that legally contribute to the UK economic activity and social life, or those ill-fated, dispossessed, immigrants and asylum seekers who are simply trying to survive. Equally disturbing is, as Grugel claimed, how all this ignores both the complexity of identity in Britain and a history of internationalism of the UK in global affairs.

As the British elite spins with the implications of the vote, there is much to reflect on the current crisis in the UK and indeed in Europe more widely. Brexit is about class, inequality, voters feeling excluded from politics, as much as a loss of purpose of what regional integration is for.


What regionalism is and is for

Crucially, Brexit revitalised a conventional argument that regional integration is associated with a reduction of state power, especially in terms of the ‘loss of sovereignty’ to markets and normative regulating flows of people, in this case workers and immigrants, to regional institutions. Taking control back of the country was the political platform of supporters who consider that integration in larger multilateral schemes means diminution of state power as a result of the ‘pooling’ of sovereignty or surrender to the regional level. Effectively, once policy measures such as tariff liberalisation are established at the regional level, national governments’ direct control over policy is sharply diminished. Authority is thus removed not only from the state but also from societal influence. But this is not necessarily incompatible with a revitalisation of state power. Aldo Ferrer, former Minister of Economy in Argentina, defended the thesis that a successful integration rests on coordinated ‘construction of sovereignty’. This construction does not rest upon the delegation of sovereignty to supranational communitarian institutions, which in a conglomerate of unequally resourced members could lead to the subordination of the weaker states to the hegemonic power of the stronger states, as the experience of the European Union demonstrates for cases such as Greece, Portugal and Spain, nor does it rest on the transfer of sovereignty to supranational institutions, but rather on inter-governmental institutions and agreements that adequately address regional economic and social disparities within the bloc. Regionalism, from this perspective, enhances governance through cross-border intergovernmental forms of cooperation, and identified instances of regionally coordinated programmes of resource redistribution, social regulation, regional provision of welfare goods and services, social rights (including regional mechanisms that give populations the means of claiming and challenging governments).

As such, the key question is less what regionalism is (in terms of its philosophical, legal, or institutional bases) and more one of how regionalism acts, the roles and purposes to which the practice of regionalism gives expression to political actors and policies. In other words, what practices and political imaginaries specific regional governance enable or obstruct, what issues are made visible as central problems, and what modes of action are supported as a consequence.

The Brexit outcome indicates that the Leave platform in the UK successfully created a false sense that Britain would be better off on its own. By capitalizing on anti-immigration sentiments, economic inequality, and lack of understanding of the EU, the Leave campaign won the support of voters that have been in many ways the disaffected – older, less educated, low working class or non working class, and whose concerns focused on the loss of jobs, rising inequality, the supposed misallocation of government funds to the EU instead of British systems, and the increase in immigration. Brexit created a sense of identity and self-image amongst those actors who reacted to a regional integration model perceived as failing to adequately address regional disparities within the economic bloc, and across and within societies.

Likewise, Brexit shows that citizens’ information about and engagement with regional politics and institutions is vital for legitimacy and demands for accountability. A key problem faced by the Remain campaign was the lack of accurate knowledge about the EU, its normative beyond movement of goods and people, and its relationship with Great Britain and the ordinary people, including frameworks for rights, including the right to health. A 2013 EU Survey found that nearly half of EU citizens said that they didn’t understand how the EU worked, or how monetary contributions may support cross national arrangements for free health coverage and tax rebates.


Opportunities for reclaiming and rebuilding sovereignty through regionalism

The Brexit vote has led many in Latin American commentators to wonder about the benefits and disadvantages of regional integration. From an economic point of view, there are concerns about the prospects of economic vulnerability led by financial volatility and a halt in ongoing bilateral trade agreements with the EU. Politically, sceptics claims that compared to Europe, Latin America did not develop any ‘integration initiatives meaningful enough for people to even consider leaving’, taking this as a sign of failure. In fact, claims that Latin American regionalism has failed have been common for more than a decade despite the fact that that regional initiatives have proliferated since at least the 1960s and despite its long tradition in a diversity of regional associations.

This conclusion is certainly persuasive given the recurrent politico-institutional and economic instabilities in Latin America and holds up well if regionalism is merely understood as an economic project. However, over the last two decades regional demands for – and supply of – regional initiatives in Latin America increasingly focused not on economic deepening but on regionally-anchored projects addressing social development. These recent developments are significantly different, in content and in institutional architecture, from the experiments of the 1990s or even in the early years of the new millennium. For this reason, the Union of South American Nations (UNASUR) and the Community of Latin American and Caribbean States (CELAC) for instance are seen as a manifestation of post-commercial or what we have identified as post-hegemonic regionalism with distinctive calls for reclaiming sovereignty collectively through, for instance, health and defense. From this perspective, we must pay new attention to the ways southern regional organisations are re-engineering normative frames and debates as to what the purpose of regional integration should be, what kinds of social policies are needed, and what roles regional institutions should play in helping members to achieve those policies. This is significant because regional normative frameworks articulate political forms of thinking that configure political agency; make central or even visible particular issues; and privilege particular forms of political practice. This is also key to rethink how regionalism can serve the purpose of strengthening sovereignty through regional diplomacy.

The case of regional health policy in South America helps to illustrate this point. In the field of health policy there are multiple tensions between the interests of international pharmaceutical industry, developing countries, their national health systems and citizens. UNASUR and Mercosur have taken action on access to medicines, coordinating active resistance to the dominance of pharmaceutical companies under a motto that links regional health diplomacy with sovereignty. As a consequence a new regional ‘Database on Medicine Prices’ was set up revealing the prices paid by South American countries for their drug purchases. By making the information public and comparative, UNASUR and Mercosur are seeking to provide policymakers and health authorities information to strengthen the position of member states in purchases of medicines vis-à-vis pharmaceutical companies. Likewise, UNASUR’s Health Council has recently launched a project for mapping regional pharmaceutical capacities, to coordinate regional policies for production of medicines. Within the WHO, UNASUR as a bloc has pressed to change international norms regarding the combat of counterfeit medical products. The harmonisation of policies on medicines means that MERCOSUR/UNASUR negotiated the price for public sector purchases of the anti-retroviral Darunavir to US$ 1.27 per tablet from up to US$ 2.98 paid by some South American governments; an agreement with the pharmaceutical Gilead for the lowest possible price for essential medicines to treat Hepatitis C. These are the ways in which South America has been constructing the coordinated construction of (health) sovereignty, ways that skew hegemonic heavy riding, do not hit the headlines, careful to keep policy discretion to cope with disparities but important enough to increase bargaining power in asymmetric situations. These features lie at the core of our understanding of post-hegemonic regionalism.