Anyone who comments in public on politics, especially in periods, such as we have now, when politics moves with such speed, is likely to have events make a fool of them. So it is perhaps unkind to recall articles such as
Ross Clark’s in The Spectator (£) proclaiming that ‘Trump’s tariffs are a real Brexit win’, especially as other, far higher profile, people
like Kemi Badenoch made the same claim. That claim, as mentioned in
my previous post, was based on the fact that in Trump’s initial announcement of his ‘Liberation Day’ tariffs the UK was listed ‘only’ for the new baseline 10% tariff whereas the EU was listed for 20%.
In the vortex of events over the following days, Trump was forced to back down on most of his threats, with the principal exception of those to China, which accelerated (though, soon,
he exempted phones and computers). For
now, what is left is primarily the 10% baseline import tariff on all goods which applies to the EU and the UK (as do the 25% car, steel, and aluminum tariffs). And, with that, this “tangible benefit of Brexit that no one can ignore”, as the hapless Clark had put it, ceased to exist before it had even come into force.
The Brexit benefit that never wasOf course the
wider situation of Trump and his tariff mayhem has not gone away, but, before considering that, it is worth reflecting on that fleeting moment. After all, it is perfectly possible, even likely, that something like it will reappear in some form or other if Trump treats the EU more badly than the UK. Or, in a similar way, I expect some Brexiters will see
the government’s announcement this week that the UK is going to suspend some import tariffs as showing the value of being able to act independently of the EU.
At one level, this illustrates the sheer desperation of Brexiters to seize on anything which might revive public approval for their project. Their cause may no longer burn bright but, like a fire which has been quelled, there are still a few embers which, when the wind blows from the right direction, flare up into a flame. That resilience is a reminder of the Brexiters’ tenacity but, at the same time, a reminder that had Brexit been anything like the success they had promised, they would scarcely need to latch on to such transparently feeble justifications.
Yet, in doing so, they managed to wrongfoot many people. For example, Darren Jones, Chief Secretary to the Treasury,
reluctantly accepted the tariff differential as a “Brexit dividend”. Others
tried to refute the claim by arguing that the tariff level derived simply from
Trump’s (absurd) ‘formula’, rather than being anything to do with Brexit. But that did not negate the fact that, under that formula, the UK was treated better than the EU. Nor did it, in itself, refute the claim
to point out that any ‘gain’ would have been more than offset by the other costs of Brexit, although that is certainly true, since it was not formulated as demonstrating a
net benefit.
A better response to the Clark-type claim would have been that Trump’s presidency has caused
a crisis in the system of trade governance overseen by the WTO, in which so many Brexiters used to place such faith. More specifically, it has done so by exposing the world to the caprice and vindictiveness of a President who openly revels in making other countries “kiss my ass”,
to use his own charmless words. That capriciousness means that he might just as easily have imposed a much higher rate on the UK than on the EU, and still might do so, and if in the future he reverts to imposing a lower rate on the UK than on the EU then that would be equally subject to revision.
Thus, whilst it is true that Brexit creates the possibility of the US (or anyone else) treating the UK and the EU differently as regards terms of trade, it is entirely unpredictable what this will mean in practice, and even more unpredictable in Trump’s hands. In itself, therefore, it can’t be claimed as a Brexit benefit. The possibility of differential treatment is a
result of Brexit, but to call it a benefit of Brexit is just the tautological proposition that ‘Brexit is the benefit of Brexit’.
What Trump’s tariffs really tell us about BrexitHowever, considering Trump’s tariffs, and especially what made him resile from his initial announcement, does tells us some important things about the damage of Brexit. Apart from the role of
internal divisions in his administration, the reasons seem to have been, first, the robustness of China’s response; second, the less forceful but still firm EU response; third, the crash of the US stock market third; and, fourth, the incipient crash of the US bond market.
As several people
have commented, ‘Liberation Day’ can be seen as ‘
America’s Brexit’ or, in a similar vein, as America’s
‘Liz Truss moment’. There has always been an umbilical cord between Brexit and Trumpism, as I have discussed before
on this blog and, looking back,
elsewhere, too. This latest episode shows their shared folly in over-estimating the power of the sovereign nation state and, as also shown by
Truss’s ‘Brexit mini-budget’, the consequences of pursuing policies on the assumption that this folly is the invention of ‘the Establishment’ rather than being an empirical reality.
Unsurprisingly, about the only UK economist
coming out in support of what most see as Trump’s
“tariff madness” is ‘Brexit brain’ Shanker Singham, Chairman of Truss’s Growth Commission. Equally unsurprisingly, Trump is now lashing out in furious Truss-type
attacks on the Chairman of the Federal Reserve.
Trump has now demonstrated that even the US is not immune to the power of other countries and blocs, and it is certainly not immune to the power of the stock, bond, and currency markets. Lewis Goodall of the News Agents deserves credit
for having spelt this out even before Trump’s
volte-face, making the point that: “One way or another, America cannot escape the limitations and strictures the global economy places on every nation, even the most powerful. Trump may be done with globalism: globalism may not be done with him.”
That insight was validated by the climb-down, and further evidenced by the subsequent exemption of Chinese phones and computers. The US simply cannot afford to detach itself from the global economy, or at least is not willing to live with the consequences of doing so. The big lie of nationalist populism is to conjure up an image of the past (often a past that never existed, or was far less desirable than presented) and promise to recreate it via a single great, transformative national act. Brexit showed this lie. Now Trump’s ‘Liberation Day’ has shown it again. The factories aren’t going to come back to the rust belt. They were never going to, and they never will.
What this means for the UKThe fact that even the most powerful country in the world cannot make a truth of the lie of nationalist populism rams home the lesson that Brexit has made the UK a bit player in the global economy. Precisely as Brexiters were warned, although now in ways being rapidly re-shaped, that global economy consists of three main blocs, the US, China, and the EU. All of the guff about being ‘the fifth largest economy in the world’ was irrelevant in 2016 and is even more irrelevant now. So, too, is the supposed (though scarcely demonstrated) ‘nimbleness’ and ‘agility’ of operating independently of those blocs. Whereas, as a leading economic power within the EU, the UK had a major role within the global system, now it is virtually an onlooker.
I’m sure that others have made this observation, but the only commentator I have seen do so with much clarity
is Robert Shrimsley of the Financial Times (£) including his point that: “Whatever the pros and cons of the EU’s policies, it is in a position to defend them should it so choose, as shown by this week’s readiness to contemplate retaliatory tariffs. The UK is not. The price of preferential treatment is readiness to play the supplicant.” To that, of course, should be added the fact that being a supplicant does not necessarily result in getting preferential treatment.
Where does that leave the UK in practical terms? Most commentators take it to mean that we must choose between the US and the EU. I’m increasingly convinced that this is a flawed formulation, albeit not for the reasons that Keir Starmer seems to believe (though, perhaps, for the reasons he is not able to say). It’s not, as Starmer says, that we ‘don’t have to make a choice’, it is that we aren’t in a position
to be able to make a choice: we have no realistic alternative other than to dance around, a bit player caught between the big players over whom we have no control and very little leverage.
For what would ‘making a choice’ mean? To state the obvious, there is literally no way that the UK could become a US State (such an idea isn’t even at the level of Trump’s absurd suggestion that Canada should do so), so ‘choosing the US’ could really only mean making a trade agreement with the US, of a sort which precluded closer relations with the EU, let along rejoining. But, even supposing the most comprehensive trade agreement with the US imaginable, the economic and regulatory pull of the EU is always going to be greater.
On the other hand, and I know how much this will annoy many readers of this blog, although it isn’t literally impossible that the UK could join the EU, it is really not a practical possibility for the time being. At all events, it is undeniable that the present government is not seeking to rejoin, and in the absence of political will there is no possibility of it happening. Moreover, even if a UK government were committed to rejoining, it would take time both to agree to that policy domestically, via a referendum, and to agree and complete an accession process.
Thus, in the current unavoidable context of the whirlwind being created by Trump, the ‘choice’ is not a clearcut one, it is a messy fudge in which the government will continue to try to get closer to the EU, and closer to the US, and perhaps closer to China, all the time having to calibrate each relationship against what each of those parties will allow the UK to agree with either of the others [1]. This is the degrading ‘sovereignty’ to which the Brexiters have consigned us: an undignified attempt to duck and dive, to wheel and deal, to fawn, bluster, plead, and flatter. The figure who best represents post-Brexit Britain isn’t Drake, or Nelson, or Churchill. It’s Arthur Daley (younger and non-UK readers may need to consult
Wikipedia).
Wheels within dealsBy definition, such an approach does not point in any one direction, or certainly not in a predictable one. We can expect to see continued talk of the possibility of a deal with the US. There had been several
press reports (£) that the prospects of this were fading, and then
J.D. Vance gave a strong indication of its possibility, though what he meant by that, and what weight can be put on it, is not clear. Some commentators
read it as an attempt to put pressure on the UK to strike a deal, and especially to concede on social media regulation to do so. Others see the US seeking to use the promise of a deal
to drive a wedge between the UK and the EU. It’s certainly true that doing so immediately captures UK media attention, perpetuates
the false idea that a UK-US deal would be some great prize, and, in the process,
immediately re-ignites the flames of Brexit, as may well be its intention.
But, in truth, it is probably not just pointless but counter-productive to try to decode the noises coming out of Washington. It’s even more obvious now than
when I first wrote it that Trump exercises power by making everyone speculate, and one thing which Starmer is getting right is to avoid getting caught up in the Trump psychodrama. It’s also worth recalling that, during his first term, to the irritation of the Brexiters, Trump kept blowing hot and cold about doing a deal, and never delivered. Even if it happens, it is an open question how stable any deal could be: the ridiculous insult Brexiters used to throw at the EU, of it being a ‘protectionist racket’, would actually be far better applied to Trump’s US. The EU is a far more reliable interlocutor.
For what it is worth, I think a limited UK-US deal is actually now more likely, because the failure of Trump’s tariff policy will make him keen to demonstrate it has, really, been successful, by doing ‘deals’ with at least some of its targets. Unpredictable as he is, the one constant about Trump is his ego, which will surely lead to some attempt to salvage what he can from
what Simon Nixon calls “one of the greatest and most humiliating policy reversals in US history”. If so, it won’t be a comprehensive Free Trade Agreement and it almost certainly wouldn’t entail the UK changing its food standards, but would very likely include controversial concessions of taxation of tech firms, and reduced or zero tariffs on beef and fish [2].
We can also expect to see the UK continuing to talk up the possibilities of other trade deals, especially with India. Whether the latter will ever actually come to fruition is another matter:
recent announcements that it is “90%” agreed are fairly meaningless, as they just mean that the most intractable issues remain unresolved. Again, though, it is unlikely that a deal with India
would involve food standards. The reason, as with any US deal, is because a deal with the EU on Sanitary and Phyto-Sanitary (SPS) regulation has always been the government’s central goal for the reset. It has been obvious for months that this would mean agreeing to dynamic alignment and ECJ oversight and that Starmer was prepared for this, despite his reticence to spell that out. This week, I think for the first time,
it has been reported that this is so. Moreover, many
well-informed reports suggest that a much more maximalist reset is now on the agenda.
The real actionHowever, whatever the UK does or does not do, the real action will be elsewhere. Most obviously, that means the power-plays between the US, China, and the EU. That in turn may mean the creation of new international alliances, or their deepening. That is already evident in
China’s discussions with Indonesia, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Malaysia, and there are numerous indications of
closer cooperation between China, Japan, and South Korea, perhaps even leading to a new
tri-lateral trade agreement. Meanwhile, there are at least
mutterings about cooperation between the CPTPP and the EU, and it wouldn’t be all that surprising to see renewed impetus behind
China’s attempts to join the CPTPP. It would be rather delicious if the ultimate legacy of
Donald ‘Mr Brexit’ Trump for post-Brexit Britain was to be for it to end up in a bloc with the EU and China.
Such speculations aside, what is already happening is a rapidly deepening economic conflict between China and the US, going beyond tariffs. For example, China is
shutting down exports of rare earth metals to the US, and
halting imports of Boeing planes and parts. Many
commentators are observing (£) that China may have the stronger hand in this conflict, whilst
others are raising the possibility that it will to develop into non-economic forms, with
Taiwan being an obvious military flashpoint.
These and other developments would lie largely out of the UK’s control, regardless of Brexit but, having foregone the sovereignty-magnifying, relatively safe haven, of EU membership, it is not even at the table. It is as if Arthur Daley’s manor is now aflame with gang wars and all he can do is graft a precarious living, doing dodgy deals from his lock-up garage, constantly hoping that a nice little earner will turn up. The real power lies elsewhere, and he doesn’t even have his minder any more.
Notes[1] The UK-China relationship is a complicated one, and has been, with or without Brexit,
for some years. Events just this week,
in relation to the Scunthorpe steel plant, show its fractiousness, and the near inseparability of specifically economic issues and the general political relationship. That fractiousness, and more, extends deeply into security issues. There is
a good summary (though predating Scunthorpe) of the current relationship by George Magnus of Oxford University’s China Centre, and a more detailed
research briefing from the House of Commons Library. The general point I would make is that Brexit has in no way made this relationship better or easier for the UK to navigate. Rather, it is a third pole, along with the US and the EU, around which the UK must dance a solitary dance. On the specific point of how the UK’s relationship with any one of these poles may be constrained by another of them, which is quite obvious as regards UK-US-EU,
there are already signs that the US will seek to dictate what the UK (and others) agree with China. What kind of things might China want of the UK? That, no doubt, is in flux because of the US-China trade war, and I haven’t been able to find much information on it, but
a 2021 report from the Council on Geostrategy gives some insights.
[2] I’m sticking
to my guns on this, despite an
excellent comment made by the poster ‘Andrew V’. He makes the point, which I had missed, that
UK food standards were explicitly named as part of the reason for Trump’s ‘reciprocal tariffs’ (this reflects his more general approach of trying to use tariffs to counter both tariff and non-tariff barriers to US exports). The implication, then, might be that dropping these standards would be a necessary condition of an exemption deal to waive the new 10% tariff, rather than, as I had argued, only something that would come into play in a comprehensive Free Trade Agreement. However, to the extent that the 10% tariff is being applied universally (plus some, now delayed, top ups) it implies that it is being levied independently of any specific so-called ‘abuses’, and the UK food standards were listed simply as an example of the kind of NTBs the US faces (and as one of many longstanding US grievances). But, frankly, who can tell with Trump? At all events, as noted above, it seems highly improbable that the UK would agree anything with the US at this point which would preclude an SPS agreement with the EU, not least because of the additional problems doing so would create for Northern Ireland. Time will tell ….
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