It’s been a tough decade since that fateful day in June 2016, and honestly, most of us aren’t exactly itching to relive it. All the chatter these days is about the latest political drama, who’s in charge, and what the future holds. But, if we’re being smart about it, we really should take a moment to look back at what went down on June 23, 2016. Because, whether we like it or not, that day shaped everything – from the choices our leaders are making now to the very fabric of our society. We’re living in “Brexit Britain,” and there’s no escaping its influence.
A new BBC documentary, “Brexit: A Very British Civil War,” is about to drop, and it’s doing an excellent job of jogging our memories. The filmmaker, Norma Percy, sat down with almost everyone who was anyone during that chaotic time. It brings back all the vivid, sometimes absurd, details: the infamous red bus proclaiming “take back control,” the almost theatrical naval skirmish between Nigel Farage and Bob Geldof on the Thames. But beyond the spectacle, the documentary reminds us of something crucial, something some of us might have conveniently forgotten: the whole thing started as a political stunt, a clever little trick cooked up by the folks running the country back then – and frankly, they were a bit careless. In 2013, David Cameron and George Osborne, feeling the heat from the Eurosceptics in their own party, promised an in/out referendum after the next election. They genuinely believed they’d never actually have to go through with it. Their plan was to lose the next election, then conveniently trade away that promise as a bargaining chip with the Liberal Democrats. It was a gamble that ended up changing the course of a nation.
And if that wasn’t reckless enough, the very future of Britain’s relationship with Europe ended up entangled in the petty squabbles of the Notting Hill gang. Imagine, decisions of such monumental importance being swayed by tennis matches in Regent’s Park, weekend getaways at Chequers, and the ever-present question of who was betraying whom. Michael Gove was letting down Dave (Cameron), and everyone was wondering what Sam (Cameron’s wife) would think of Boris Johnson. Johnson himself, with characteristic bluster, claimed he “didn’t give a f*** about being prime minister,” a statement George Osborne vehemently disagrees with. Osborne’s take is damning: “It was nothing to do with the EU, Britain’s place in the world. It was Game of Thrones. That’s what Boris Johnson was playing. And he could see the Iron Throne right there about to be vacated.” This kind of schoolyard rivalry, played out by a group of Etonians, ultimately determined the fate of 70 million people. The sheer irresponsibility and the profound impact of those choices on our collective future remain deeply unforgivable, and the blame falls squarely on the shoulders of Cameron and Osborne, almost as much as Gove and Johnson.
But beyond how it all started, what truly matters is the fallout, the legacy that surrounds us every single day. Let’s start with our pockets, our economy. Back then, the “Remain” campaign was sarcastically dismissed as “project fear,” a bunch of doom-mongers claiming that leaving the EU would make Britain poorer by about 6% of its GDP. Well, here we are, a decade later, and if anything, “Project Fear” wasn’t pessimistic enough. The latest estimates put the drop in GDP somewhere between 6% and 8%, and investment has plummeted by a shocking 18%. Trade, according to the Office for Budget Responsibility, is projected to be 15% less than it would have been if we’d stayed in the EU. And get this: a staggering 85% of businesses involved in importing or exporting goods are reporting problems they never had before. “Remainers” warned that Brexit would be a slow leak, slowly deflating the British economy. They were right, except it hasn’t been that slow at all.
Beyond the numbers, Brexit has left another, equally profound, mark on our society. It’s not something you can measure in pounds or percentages, but it’s unmistakably real. It’s in the way we talk to each other, the coarsening and darkening of our national conversation. Aggression and even outright hatred, once lurking in the shadows, now boldly hold court in the public square. Just this week, the leader of the very party that delivered Brexit warned of “civil war.” Now, it would be unfair to pin all of this on the referendum alone; Brexit was, in part, a symptom of broader changes. We can all see the role social media and its powerful figures like Elon Musk have played in degrading public discourse. But what Brexit did was supercharge and intensify these negative trends. It was like pouring gasoline on a smoldering fire. The very idea of casually disregarding facts – remember “post-truth” was Oxford Dictionaries’ word of the year for 2016 – was an unfortunate gift from the “Leave” campaign. Percy’s documentary exposes the knowing dishonesty of the claim that the UK sent £350 million to the EU every week. This was a grossly exaggerated figure that conveniently ignored the over £80 million that came back as a rebate and the money the EU spent within the UK. Dominic Cummings, a key advisor to Johnson, later shamelessly bragged that the point of using that figure was to “drive the remain campaign and people running it crazy,” intentionally forcing his opponents into tedious fact-checking while he pushed the voters’ emotional buttons. Even now, an unrepentant Johnson calls it “the bus of truth.” In 2026, we’re constantly slogging through a swamp of lies and disinformation, especially online. But it was the referendum that drove us headfirst into that swamp, and at top speed.
The currency of figures like Cummings, Farage, and others was fear and loathing. We’re reminded of Farage’s chilling “breaking point” poster, depicting brown-skinned men seemingly massing at our borders, and the entirely fabricated “Vote Leave” advertisement suggesting that 76 million Turks would soon flood into Britain via the EU, leaving a trail of dirty footprints. These were nakedly racist and xenophobic messages, barely disguised, and they worked. It’s no great surprise then that a decade later, we have a man who could very well be our next Prime Minister – and who, tellingly, rarely mentions Brexit these days – complaining about “anti-white prejudice” and calling for “pure cold rage” after the tragic murder of a young white man. This, even as the victim’s parents pleaded for his death not to be used to turn Britons against each other. A party called “Restore Britain,” openly endorsed by unapologetic white supremacists and neo-Nazis, is on the ballot in Makerfield and could snag 10% of the vote. While Britain has always had a far-right element, it was largely confined to the margins. Brexit, however, gave it an open invitation to step into the mainstream.
By forcing us into a stark “leave or remain” division, Brexit polarized our politics in an unprecedented and much harsher way. Looking back, it’s clear that the “Remain” campaign was always fighting an uphill battle. The referendum was never truly about British membership of the EU. In essence, the question morphed into something far more fundamental: “Do you want things to stay exactly as they are, or would you like to escape the current realities of your life for something better?” When framed like that, there was only ever going to be one winner. What’s more, the timing utterly doomed the “Remain” cause. If the vote were held today, in a world reeling from the threats of Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin, the sheer foolishness of standing alone, isolated from our closest neighbors, would be starkly apparent. But back in June 2016, Trump was merely a candidate, and Ukraine hadn’t yet been invaded. The profound geopolitical recklessness of Brexit wasn’t as obvious then as it tragically is now. It’s a truly heartbreaking story – a once-confident nation making such a fearful, self-destructive choice. Our economy, our politics, our daily lives in 2026 – all bear the indelible imprint of that catastrophic error. But this story isn’t over. The BBC documentary underscores the sheer tenacity and determination that allowed the Brexiters to transform a seemingly lost, eccentric cause into a victorious movement. It took the “Leavers” a remarkable 41 years, from 1975 to 2016, to reverse our initial vote on joining the EU. Now, “Rejoin” is already the clear preference of a majority of Britons, with the latest count showing 56% in favor compared to 35% against. And besides, politics moves at lightning speed these days. If that calculation holds true, and it takes 20 years to overturn the 2016 verdict, we shouldn’t lose heart – after all, we’re already halfway there.