The great brexit reversal

It’s not often you can pinpoint the precise moment a government quietly performs political treason. But this week, inside the gilded halls of Lancaster House, Sir Keir Starmer took a pen, smiled for the cameras, and signed Britain back into the EU in everything but name.

He won’t call it that, of course. The Labour government’s deal with Brussels is dressed in the familiar language of “resetting relations”, “stability”, and “deepening cooperation”. But don’t be fooled. This is not diplomacy—it’s capitulation. Starmer has committed Britain to a path of dynamic alignment, a sterile technocratic phrase that in practice means we will once again take our orders from Brussels without so much as a say in how they’re written. The will of the people, expressed with force and finality in 2016, has been papered over with EU letterhead.

The slow unravelling of Brexit

This is Brexit’s final undoing—done not with a bang, but with the shuffling of papers and the self-congratulation of civil servants who never believed in it to begin with. Starmer has handed the EU control over large swathes of British regulation—covering everything from food standards and environmental rules to energy policy and carbon markets. These policies will not be debated in the House of Commons. They will not be subject to scrutiny by British voters. They will be imposed, interpreted and enforced by institutions we do not elect and cannot remove.

The European Court of Justice, that old spectre of post-Brexit anxiety, is back in the driving seat. Britain will have no representation in its chambers. It will merely wait outside to be told what it must do.

And what does Britain gain in return for surrendering its legislative autonomy? A potential chance—note, potential—for British travellers to use the e-gates at European airports. A flimsy youth “experience” scheme, carefully renamed to avoid triggering anyone’s immigration allergy. And a so-called defence pact so vague it could have been drafted by a Brussels intern after lunch.

Starmer’s gift to Farage

This is, in political terms, a godsend for Nigel Farage. Reform UK has been handed a narrative so sharp, so emotionally charged, that it practically writes its own campaign literature. Imagine it: the fishermen of Grimsby, told they must now endure twelve more years of EU trawlers hoovering up their waters. The young builder in Clacton, priced out of housing and now told tens of thousands of under-30s from across the EU may be coming to compete for jobs and public services—without any clear cap or plan.

The Brexit vote was about control. About restoring sovereignty, borders, and self-determination. Starmer’s deal is not just a reversal of that ambition—it’s a calculated snub to the very people who made it happen. It reinforces everything Farage has long said about the establishment: that it cannot be trusted, that it listens only to itself, and that it will always find a way to wriggle back to Brussels.

The delusion of technocratic Europhilia

Starmer’s defenders claim this is all necessary pragmatism. That Britain needs stability. That re-aligning with the EU will spur economic growth. But this is pure fantasy. The original spin suggested the deal might boost GDP by 2%. Officials now admit it will be 0.2%—by 2040. That’s not even a rounding error in a £4 trillion economy. It’s a rounding error’s rounding error.

Meanwhile, our ability to strike independent trade deals—already limited—will be further constrained. Who will want to negotiate with Britain when it’s shackled to Brussels’ regulatory machine? And how are we to compete when EU carbon prices are locked in, our energy market is bound to theirs, and our entrepreneurs are being told: sorry, you’ll need to ask Brussels before innovating?

The real price is cultural

But the economic cost is only part of the story. The deeper damage is cultural and constitutional. This deal reaffirms a troubling trend: that the elite class in British politics still does not trust the instincts of its own people. That it believes the path to prosperity runs through the corridors of Brussels, not the driveways of Doncaster. That rule by remote committee is preferable to the messy business of democratic self-government.

And Starmer’s contradictions on immigration have made things worse. He talks tough, yet signs up to schemes that will inevitably increase inflows. He promises control, then axes the Rwanda plan without a workable replacement. He visits Albania in search of a deportation deal and returns empty-handed—while boat crossings surge again.

Is it any wonder that Reform UK is now outperforming Labour in places like Stoke-on-Trent, or closing in on second place in parts of Scotland? Starmer’s government doesn’t seem to understand the country it governs. And as history shows, that never ends well.

A slow, quiet betrayal

This isn’t about rejoining the EU tomorrow. Starmer knows that would be politically toxic. Instead, his strategy is salami-sliced submission: one area of alignment today, another tomorrow, until the cumulative effect is indistinguishable from full membership—just without the votes, the veto or the voice.

So yes, Brexit is being reversed. Not in name, but in fact. And if Starmer keeps treating the electorate with this level of contempt, he may well find himself facing a far more dangerous opponent than Boris Johnson ever was.

Not a clown.
Not a charlatan.
But the populist insurgency he thought he had outlasted.

Nigel Farage is back. And this time, he doesn’t need to shout.
Keir Starmer is doing the shouting for him.