The election of Boris Johnson once again highlights the salience of nostalgia to the Brexit debate. This is more than a throwaway attack line, writes Paul David Beaumont (Norwegian University of Life Sciences). Drawing upon social psychology can provide the theoretical basis for why and how Johnson’s “retrotopian” rhetoric appeals to old, wealthy, and nationalist Brexiteers.
The election of Boris Johnson by the Conservative party membership should – but won’t – put to bed the popular hypothesis that Brexit was chiefly a rebellion by the ‘left-behind’ against the establishment. In this account, a combination of unchecked EU immigration and a decade of austerity had left great swathes of the working class, especially those in the North, in dire economic straits and angry at the establishment. The Brexit referendum was a welcome opportunity to take revenge. As a result, the last three years have seen intrepid reporters voxpopping Wearsiders, with the subtext that these are the turkeys that voted for Christmas.
Yet the ‘left behinder’ thesis is at best partial. Indeed, one will not find many ‘left-behinders’ among the Tory party membership who selected Britain’s new Prime Minister. Johnson stood on the promise to Brexit, come what may. Indeed, the Tory membership offers a snapshot into the relatively wealthy, older, middle-England voter that seldom features on BBC news, yet also voted in high numbers to leave the EU.
The election of Boris Johnson also offers a timely excuse to revisit an article I wrote back in 2017: Brexit Retrotopia, and the Perils of Post-Colonial Delusions. As the title implies, it offers a plausible explanation for some of the reasons why this group voted Leave, and a why they are now doubling down on no-deal Brexit. The work sought to complement a number of quantitative studies that highlight how national identity and values are at least as important in driving Brexit as economic factors. However, I suggested that we needed to unpack the identity ‘variable’. After all, it is not a given that nationalists are Eurosceptic, and Britain has no monopoly on nationalism. Moreover, the EU is similarly bureaucratic, inefficient, and rule-imposing for other members, which begs the question of why Britain – rather than say, Italy – chose to exit. (To be clear, I am not arguing that voting leave is irrational; there are plenty of good reasons to dislike the EU. Rather, it is an argument for why Euroscepticism has been especially strong in Britain.) Given this, a full explanation of how identity mattered to Brexit requires analysis of the quality of British nationalism: What is it about Britain’s identity narrative that made Brexit appeal to nationalists?
Drawing on social psychology, and a touch of Zygmunt Bauman, my article sought to add empirical and theoretic ballast to the now frequent refrain that nostalgia for Britain’s past informs Brexiteers’ plans for Britain’s future. Indeed, while Brexit baffles economists, social psychologists will not have been surprised to see Brexiteers risk diminished economic wellbeing for seemingly intangible identity reasons. Social identity theory (SIT) suggests that individuals are often willing to forgo economic gain in order to improve their social group’s status, enable positive comparisons with outgroups and thus generate pride and self-esteem. It should be immediately clear how provisionally SIT may relate to Brexit: voting Leave could be understood as a radical strategy for making their national social group more positively distinct from Europe. Yet as intuitively appealing as it appears, there is a snag with the standard SIT model’s applicability to Brexit. It is unclear why nationalists would consider Britain to compare poorly with other EU members in terms of what Brexiteers themselves considered important: ‘sovereignty‘. Britain enjoys bespoke treatment within the EU, unrivalled by other members: it has more opt-outs than any other member, and receives a rebate of approximately 66% of its annual net contribution. Britain, if anything, had privileged status in the EU.
While the standard SIT model founders, introducing a temporal dimension can help illuminate what underpins Brexiteers’ status concerns. An offshoot of the Social Comparison Theory that SIT is based upon, Temporal Comparison Theory (TCT), suggests that individuals do not just compare themselves to their peers but also to their former self’s status: people seek to maintain a coherent narrative of the self that shows self-improvement over time. When one struggles to make favourable comparisons with the past self, it can prompt low self-esteem in the same way that unfavourable comparisons to peers can. Scaling up this argument, Joshua Freedman has argued that China’s status dissatisfaction and subsequent status-seeking activities demands an understanding of how its identity narrative requires China to remedy its “century of humiliation”, and regain its former glory.
It should be clear by now that TCT is well placed to shed light on Brexit. If we assume that individuals often rest their self-esteem upon temporal comparisons with their social group’s former self, then what does this illuminate about Brexit? In short, my article suggested that two key features of Britain’s identity narrative make it particularly susceptible to Eurosceptic arguments. Because Britain’s mainstream national identity narrative relies upon glorifying its former empire (and lamenting its loss) together with fetishising the second world war, devolving power to the EU undermines nationalists’ sense of progression and self-esteem. To a country that once boasted (and still learns) how “the sun never set” on its empire, the EU’s practices of compromise compare poorly. Cooperation is easily presented as subordination.
Indeed, Britain’s present EU relationship – regardless of how much economically better off it may be than before, regardless of how much ‘more’ sovereignty it retains vis-à-vis its fellow members – seemingly turned Britain into a rule-taker rather than a rule-maker. Perhaps most ignominiously, from this perspective, Britain can be presented as having ceded power to the very countries it fought off in the second world war. All this enables Eurosceptic leaders to present a narrative of decline that calls for an urgent halt via Brexit. Indeed, Brexit embodies a vision that Zygmunt Bauman might have diagnosed as retrotopian: a nostalgic vision for the future based upon a lost but undead past. As such, the nature of the UK’s self-narrative – constantly reproduced via popular culture and the media — can thus help explain why arguments pertaining to “sovereignty” resonate so powerfully in the Brexit debate among older, wealthier, and more nationalistic Englishmen, who have certainly not been left behind.
While my article only provided provisional evidence supporting the plausibility of the thesis, two years on the argument appears to be holding up well. A growing body of research has fleshed out and nuanced the nostalgic underpinnings of Brexit and its post-colonial overtones. Meanwhile, second world war references continue to pepper Brexiteer discourse: scarcely a week goes by without a Brexiteer calling for Brits to reawaken the ‘spirit of Dunkirk’, rather than worry about the damage done by a no-deal Brexit. Perhaps most pertinently, Britain’s new PM Boris Johnson has risen to power on the back of almost cartoonish retrotopian appeal. Indeed, campaigning for Brexit, Johnson exhorted voters “to take the chains off the giant, unshackled Britannia and let the lion roar again!”, while his first speech as prime minister concluded with the call for Britain to “recover our natural and historic role”. As Edoardo Campanella put it in Foreign Policy, Johnson is “the ‘quintessentially nostalgic leader’.
It is certainly understandable that Johnson, and any state leader, wants their citizens to feel pride in their history. Indeed, glorifying the past can help solidify national cohesion; after all, if a nation is just a series of stories we tell about ourselves, why not make those stories good ones? The danger is when hubris based upon the past meets with the hard realities of the present. Little of what Johnson has said so far suggests he recognises the challenges that lie ahead either in renegotiating with the EU or in leaving without a deal. Indeed, Johnson’s claims that Brexit merely requires more ‘energy‘ and positive thinking resemble those of a self-help guru rather than a prime minister. It may well be exactly what Brexiteers would like to hear, but I doubt it will change either the EU’s calculus or soften the effects of a no-deal Brexit.
This post represents the views of the author and not those of the Brexit blog, nor LSE.
Paul David Beaumont is currently finalising his PhD dissertation, The Grammar of International Status Competition, at the Department of International Environmental and Development Studies at the Norwegian University of Life Sciences. He tweets @BeaumontPaul.
One can appreciate the basic objective of the post, the salience of nostalgia with reference to both Brexit and Johnson’s election to Leader of the Conservative Party, but that does not in any way reflect the country’s vote for Brexit.
Other than the ‘old’ (and most certainly not the majority) and the right wing conservatives (and not even all of them) most Leave voters were swayed by the threat of immigrants flooding the UK (and promises of additional funds for the NHS).
You are in danger or simplifying the motives behind the UK’s electorate’s decision to vote ‘Leave’ in order to explain the vote for Boris Johnston.
It seems to me that there are two groups of Brexiteer with *separate* concerns. The first, the “left-behind” group, are, as the name implies, concerned about economic disadvantage, immigration and so on. The second group are predominantly right-wing Tories who see the opportunity to exploit the Brexit vote for their own economic end- of constructing a US-style economy free of regulation, with low pay and so on. The former group have simply been used by the latter as a battering ram.
James humphreys. There are many people who voted against the EU who are in neither of your camps Think about the treatment of Greece.by the EU. What bank insists on giving money to a bankrupt country and expects it to pay the money back with harsh terms. It’s like putting a man in a debtors prison and expecting him to work his way out of debt EU policy has caused people in Greece to starve..There are parts of this country where people suffer just as they do in Greece. What has the EU done for them.? It’s more ignored than ‘Left Behind’ . There are very thoughtful people like Michael Portillo who , unless i am mistaken did vote Leave. I think the EU has to change.and perhaps Brexit will be the catalist.There are many people like myself who ore neither Right or Left wing .. The flip side of the same coin. What we do not like is unfairness and snobery..
Interesting these with lots of ideas. I’m sure there are more than two group[s of Brexiteers and I don’t think the motives of those who voted Leave can be silo-ed quite so categorically as the article suggests. Granted, Britain’s perceived status in the world was a factor in the vote for some groups, However, I agree with one of the comments above that there might be an unjustified conflation between the Leave vote and Bo Jo’s election as PM.
Interesting and informing article. Further to the Brexit context, I’ve since been trying, but failing, to apply the framework posited in the article to the ongoing live debate on Scottish independence from the UK. The original referendum on independence produced an outcome of (roughly) 55% against independence and 45% for. I’m not able to discern a ‘nostalga driver’ in the reasons for those voting ‘Yes’. Indeed, strong elements in the persuasion to vote No seemed to be the warning and fear of losing a ‘British’ identity, alongside the puported economic risks). I continue to struggle and would welcome any comments on the applicability of the framework to the Scottish scenario.
I think the problem with fitting this framework to Scotland is that, for obvious reasons, nostalgia for a pre-Union Scotland is far less tangible than a pre-1973 UK. As a Scot myself, I know that the appeal of romanticism for many Scots is strong but I don’t think that necessarily provides any indication or lessons of what a post-UK independent Scotland would look like or indeed whether it is desirable and/or viable. Nostalgia for a pre-1707 Scotland is not an easy thing to conjure up