On the night of 23 June 2016, gathered together in the Thatcher Study at No. 10, the Cameron team saw the results in. I sat next to the Prime Minister, David Cameron; his daughter, Nancy, in her pajamas and cuddling a favourite toy, was under the round oak table made purposely to seat the G8 leaders at Lough Erne. ‘Dad, we are losing,’ said Nancy, as the results began to trickle and then pour in. Around 2am, when Sunderland declared a decisive result for Leave (61 per cent to 39 per cent), the trend was clear. John Curtice called it for Leave – who won by 52 to 48 per cent – roughly 17 million to 16 million (600,000 votes between the two) with a strong turnout of 72 per cent. At 3am, Cameron gathered a small group of us in his Den; it was game over. The answer to the question of whether the British people wanted to stay in the European Union was ‘no’. The decision to give them that choice was made by Cameron in a speech made at Bloomberg HQ on 23 January 2013, unleashing one of the most divisive periods we have known.

Parliament is the central institution of UK democracy. It is both a representative body, reflecting the diverse views of the nation, and its senior decision-making forum. In the years after the Brexit referendum, when both the public and the governing party were deeply divided, Parliament struggled to navigate these representative and decision-making roles. The arguments, both inside Parliament and about Parliament’s role, were frequently heated and controversial. Many Brexiteers had argued in favour of boosting Parliament’s sovereignty, and yet the institution emerged battered and bruised from the process – having been repeatedly maligned, shut down by a Prime Minister and reinstated by the Supreme Court, and described as ‘broken’ on the opening page of the 2019 Conservative manifesto. This chapter explores how such contradictions came about. It concludes that the blame laid at Parliament’s door by campaigners, journalists and politicians was often unfair, and damaging of public trust. The Brexit process left much rebuilding to be done.

Ten years on, I’d still make the case for leaving the EU. On reflection I’m proud that a majority of voters valued democratic accountability over short-term practical and economic advantages. I regret that Leave supporters were labelled old, stupid, little Englanders. This was about identity, community and belonging. It’s better to acknowledge that this is something we all need, rather than sneer. Could we have taken a more pro-active part in shaping subsequent events? The government of the day called the referendum, and the government of the day owned the outcome. Arguably something like Change Britain might have come into being immediately after the referendum, but practically it’s hard to see how the cross-party nature of the organisation could have been maintained, or indeed financed. The EU referendum could have been planned better both before and after the votes were counted. Professor Alan Renwick at UCL convened a group of politicians, academics and practitioners to reflect on what might be considered good practice in the future. Direct participatory democracy can unleash forces which become difficult to reign in, even in mature parliamentary democracies.

When the Brexit referendum result came in, Tony Gallagher, editor of the Daily Telegraph, triumphantly texted the Guardian newsroom: ‘Who said the mainstream media was finished?’ Gallagher was apeing Kelvin McKenzie, one of his predecessors as Sun editor, who proclaimed after John Major’s upset election victory in 1992: ‘It was the Sun wot won it!’ Brexit appeared to vindicate his view that the press, in particular the Sun, had tipped the balance in favour of Leave. The mood inside the FT newsroom was funereal. Over at The Sunday Times, Michael Sheridan, a veteran foreign correspondent, arrived early that morning to see Martin Ivens alone in the editor’s office. ‘What have you done?,’ he exclaimed, extending a congratulatory hand. Ivens held out the possibility of a renegotiation based on the Brexit vote followed by a second referendum.

Our SW1 insurgency was bolstered by the People’s Pledge, a cross-party campaign for a referendum, launched in 2011 by Daniel Hodson, John Mills, Mark Seddon, Dan Hannan, myself and others. It effectively pressured MPs in marginal seats by organising local referendums, pushing them to support a national vote. I saw its impact firsthand at a drinks party in David Cameron’s Downing Street flat, where an irate MP confronted me about the campaign’s activity in her constituency. My suggestion that she sign the pledge sparked a scene. (Ironically, this now-former MP later framed her parliamentary legacy as helping secure Brexit, another case of selective memory.) In a move that would prove significant in the long run, Boris Johnson, then the London Mayor, had signed the People’s Pledge at one of our street stalls in Romford. We had not only mainstreamed the idea of a referendum, but had been able to do so because we had taken control of the Eurosceptic movement inside Westminster. Once Cameron had conceded holding a referendum, it was what was happening with Euroscepticism outside Westminster that became of greater concern.

This chapter presents the complicated amendment rules in Italy and Chile and calculates their constitutional cores. In both countries, the constitutional amendments failed because of the size of these cores. In Italy, the rejection was by referendum; in Chile, the next step was the design of a new constitution which needed to be approved by a referendum (procedure followed and failed twice). The analysis of these referendums as well as the cases of failed referendums in the EU provide the basis for an explanation of failures of referendums as well as a proposal of a procedure to reduce the probability of these failures based on improvement of information to the public.

Political possibilities closed down as the war ended in 2005. With the negotiation of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement and the death of the SPLA’s leader John Garang – which sparked riots and racialised murder across Khartoum – many people’s connections and trust in inclusive intellectual and political projects were broken. This chapter briefly surveys the aftermath of the riots and peace process, which saw a massive movement of well over a million Khartoum residents to the south, where they reconstructed a very different set of neighbourhoods that in the late 2000s were often known as New Khartoums. The secession of South Sudan in 2011 was not a panacea or end goal of the long conflicts for many of these returned Khartoum residents. Reflecting discussions with returning residents over 2012 and 2013, the chapter examines the lost possibilities of the projects they undertook in Khartoum, and the closing space for political projects and democratic communities that they discussed and worked for during the war.

This an assessment of the main themes and arguments of the book. Looking back at Brexit, what is most striking is the subsequent economic decline of the UK – a consequence of Leave demagogues diverting voters’ attention from economic risks. Brexit’s populism was a manifestation of the Europe-wide rise of identitarian politics, the normalisation of national populism and the drift toward authoritarianism. These trends went with viewing the world as a collection separate sovereign nation states. A national population was imagined as a homogeneous mass, potentially embodied in a single sovereign leader. Seeing nations as separated entities brings a focus on foreign others, exemplified in the Brexiters’ fixation on immigration into the UK. Demagoguery, bound up with ‘post-truth’ culture, is used as an explanatory concept throughout this book, but requires redefinition in the age of mass media, data collection and psychological profiling. The most important conclusion is that Brexitspeak, Brexit policies and Brexit attitudes in government constitute threats to representative democracy, foreshadowed in the referendum process and actions by post-Brexit governments.

How should we best characterise the UK party system in the wake of nearly a decade and a half of Conservative government? Has it undergone a significant and enduring realignment, or merely amounted to passing turbulence, after which things have returned to the seemingly eternal verities of stable two-party competition? The question for us to consider in this chapter is whether we can regard the period since 2010 in such terms: in particular, does the general election of December 2019 constitute a moment of critical realignment? Or is it more sensible to view this as the mere culmination of a relatively prolonged period of Conservative Party ascendancy based on a regular swing of the electoral pendulum – a swing which will inevitably reverse itself as the centre of electoral gravity shifts in favour of Labour once more? In other words, a simple affirmation of the age-old dynamics of the two-party system.

This chapter discusses the entanglement of Brexit with the subsequent pandemic and the war in Ukraine, both of which have been used to muddy Brexit’s economic impact. It first analyses the rhetoric of the Leave campaign and of those politicians advocating for and negotiating Brexit. Those negotiations are bound to continue while politicians are reluctant to acknowledge Brexit as unfinished business. It then contextualizes contemporary fears of unlimited immigration as an echo of postimperial anxieties about British identity. These also feature in literary responses to Brexit which make them condition-of-England novels rather than investigations of wider Anglo-European relations. Forging a dialogue between the aftermath of the COVID-19 pandemic and the fallout from the fourteenth-century bubonic plague suggests that political leadership and economic steer are crucial in determining a country’s recovery. How the pandemic was handled in the UK, paired with the economic impact of Brexit, aggravated the global supply issues caused by the war in Ukraine. This was not an inevitable outcome.

The chapter discusses the history of the Berlin housing system, the Kantian roots of the German Constitution (Grundgesetz) and the events leading to the emergence of Deutsche Wohnen & Co. enteignen (DWE). It explains the origins of the liberal notion of property and how corporate property is premised on ‘blasting the atom of property open’, that is, destroying the links between person and a thing that constitute classical liberal understanding of property.

This chapter examines the process of constitutional alteration and the scope of the race power in section 51(xxvi) of the Australian Constitution. The race power was altered by referendum in 1967 and provides a useful case study in the way in which alteration of a constitutional provision affects its meaning. Section 128 provides that the Constitution may be altered only by a law approved by the electors voting in a referendum. The electors’ approval must be expressed by way of double majority: any constitutional alteration must be approved by a majority of electors nationwide and by a majority of electors in a majority of States. In 1967, such a double majority was achieved to alter the scope of the race power by extending its scope to include Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians were originally excluded from the scope of the race power. Contemporary controversy has focused on whether the race power is limited to laws beneficial to the people of any race or whether the race power extends to laws that are detrimental to the people of any race.

The union of Scotland and England was the founding act of the UK in 1707, and consensually agreed between two sovereign parties. Scotland was never a colony of England and post-union retained considerable autonomy, including its distinct and separate legal and education systems and Church. As a result of the 1707 union, the UK Parliament (which was not simply the English Parliament enlarged) came into being. The doctrine of unlimited parliamentary sovereignty is not accepted by everyone in Scotland, where there exists an alternative Scottish tradition of popular sovereignty, and the belief that Scotland’s place in the UK Union rests on its consent. Since devolution in 1998, Scotland has developed some progressive constitutional forms, as well as more pro-European inclinations that challenge the unitary constitutional approaches of London. Brexit, however, has placed the UK union under strain, and there have been demands for a second Scottish Independence referendum. Surprisingly, despite the threat of Scottish independence, there has been little debate about what the ‘Union’ or ‘Britain’ is or should be.