A decade after Brexit, U.K. still a country of Leavers and Remainers

The labels Leave and Remain need little introduction to anyone with even a fleeting interest in British politics. The terms do not simply refer to someone’s position on U.K.-EU relations, they can also provide a shorthand for their broader beliefs and values.

The terms emerged as group identities and, to the opposing sides, often as pejorative shorthand for the other camp. That these labels retain potency 10 years after the Brexit referendum suggests that identity is the default prism through which many people in the U.K. now view politics.

My research focuses on continuity and change in political insults, and I try to understand if modern politics is more divided and uncivil than it was in the past. I am particularly interested in how politicians use Aristotle’s key modes of persuasion: ethos (appeals based on the character of the speaker); pathos (appeals to emotion); and logos (appeals to logic).

The “Brexit effect” on the rhetoric of British politics is one of the most damaging legacies of the referendum. It has seemingly resulted in a rhetorical culture in which ethos and pathos are of far more value, and so far more prevalent, than logos. This affects you whether you’re a Leaver or Remainer.

Uncivil rhetoric was often highlighted throughout the Brexit debate. This was the case both during the referendum campaign and then the battles in parliament between 2016 and 2019 over delivering the result. Journalists at the time even questioned why the discourse felt so toxic. Often, the debate was framed as “the elite” versus “the people,” where the two sides represented irreconcilable identities.

The people versus the powerful

The Leave victory was widely attributed to that side telling the more emotionally resonant story and, in the process, owning the narrative of who the elite really were. Populism is a contested term, but research has found a common feature of this kind of politics is creating a divide between “elites” and “the people.”

In this rhetoric, the elite — however they are defined — are always greedy, corrupt, incompetent or just plain evil. On the other hand, “the people” are virtuous, but exploited by the elite. Politics then becomes a contest between these opposing sides where for one to gain, the other must lose. And, in this environment, successful politicians are those who can frame themselves as being on the side of the people rather than the elite.

The 2020 book “Brexitland” argued that leaving the EU represented the first time a major political decision was based not on rational economic self-interest but on feelings of identity. The authors explain that the referendum did not create the divides between those identifying as Leavers and those as Remainers. But, once exposed, those divides could not be unseen.

The decisive issue in politics no longer appears to be “the economy, stupid,” but rather “if you’re not one of the people, you are the elite, stupid.”

The unpopularity of outgoing prime minister Keir Starmer and his government might be seen as a product of this kind of politics. Much has been said about the Starmer government’s inability to tell its own story, to define its ethos and connect emotionally with the nation. The “loveless landslide” that Starmer’s Labour party won in 2024 is not just a result of the “politics of nothing” that it has been accused of, although this surely has not helped.

The 2024 result was a symptom of Labour’s inability to reconcile (perhaps irreconcilable) identity groups, born of a misunderstanding of politics after Brexit. Dislike of Starmer and his government appears to have killed the notion that sober technocratic deliverism is the route to political success.

Now, 10 years on, the popularity of Reform UK and the Green party can be explained in part by the unifying power of grievance politics. Brexit itself was also a result of this. But rather than Brexit removing the source of the people’s unhappiness, it has simply framed politics as a zero-sum battle between identity groups.

Despite their vagaries, Leave and Remain still provide the most comprehensive fault line across the U.K. in 2026. Any politician who wants to change the terms of the debate will need to have great rhetorical skills. The fact that the terms have not been replaced after 10 years illustrates how rare such skills are and how challenging reconciliation remains.

» Chris Smith is a PhD candidate in politics at The Open University. This column was originally published at The Conversation Canada: theconversation.com/ca