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At the start of the next round of Brexit negotiations, which is now the eighth, the head of the British delegation, David Frost, called for more “realism” from the EU on Tuesday. That’s well said, but also unintentionally funny. Because on the EU side, one has long been wondering how it should work: Be realistic in the face of a bargaining partner who pretty much adjusts reality every week.
The latest masterpiece in the art of denying reality was made by the Boris Johnson government on Monday. He confirmed that he would introduce a law this week that could partially nullify the legally binding agreement with the EU on Northern Ireland, the most complicated of all Brexit disputes. After three years of exhausting jerks, everyone would be on the loose again. But no one in jail.
Johnson saw it that way too. Until he became prime minister.
As depressing, frustrating, or shocking as it may be, it’s not really surprising. Because when it comes to Northern Ireland, Boris Johnson is a repeat offender.
As a reminder: how things should go on the Northern Ireland border after Britain’s departure from the EU has always been the question of millions on the tedious Brexit quiz. Because it’s not just about money and infrastructure, but about peace on a long-suffering island. Therefore, London and Brussels agreed in principle from the beginning that in the future there should in no way be a visible and hard barrier between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland in the south, whatever the Brexit is in the end.
Therefore, the hapless Theresa May tried the so-called backup solution. Therefore, Great Britain and Northern Ireland would remain in a temporary customs union with the EU. The alternative, a customs border across the Irish Sea, with merchandise controls between Northern Ireland and the other parts of the kingdom, was not one, May announced: no prime minister could accept this de facto division of her country.
May’s biggest critic, Boris Johnson, saw it that way. Until he became prime minister. Last October, in a desperate political situation, he suddenly voted in favor of special treatment for Northern Ireland, but at the same time tried to sell this change as a triumphant victory over the Brussels bureaucrats. The EU, which could hardly believe its luck, played along. And so the agreement was written into the Northern Ireland Withdrawal Treaty Act. Mandatory under international law. And apparently waterproof.
Then Monday the next U-turn
Johnson, the illusionist, promised Northern Ireland’s import and export entrepreneurs at every subsequent opportunity that they would have to fear “no form, no controls, no hindrance” in the future. To be sure, he had it included in his Conservative party’s electoral manifesto in December. Alone: it was wrong anyway. The contract is a contract. One should think so.
So now, on Monday, the man turns around, who should go down in British history as some kind of Boris Longstocking. He makes the world, widde-widde-how he likes it. With a new law, the details of which will be published on Wednesday, the Johnson government wants to determine in the future what goods are transported through the Irish Sea, how and by whom they are inspected and who must fill out what customs forms.
Does Johnson only show the instruments to the EU?
Isn’t that what the exit agreement says? Is there a possible violation of the law? And, in extreme cases, could you recreate a hard border on the Irish island? Who would have thought that?
Of course, it could also be that this is all just saber rattling. The fact that Johnson wants to show the EU the instruments so that, demonstrating realism, it yields and, on a whim, offers the British a flawless trade agreement that contains only privileges but no obligations. And that, according to Johnson’s latest ultimatum, by mid-October at the latest.
But one thing should be considered by “Britain Trump” (Donald Trump): the denial of reality can be a renewable resource, especially around the world. It is not patience and trust.
