Sometimes in the fog of war, the mist lifts temporarily and it is possible to see the shape of the assembled battalions before the fog descends once more. This week was one of those moments and three things became apparent.
First, the British government has admitted it is a long way from an agreement on how to proceed with Brexit. The complexities and trade-offs are mounting, and not diminishing, as a result of lobbying by interest groups, internal discussions and the united front being presented by Brussels.
A few pennies are dropping all over Whitehall, as the civil service consumes the scale of what has been taken on. The length of time it might take to secure an EU trade deal – five to 10 years according to the mandarin chosen – is the least of its problems. Other government business, unsurprisingly, is struggling for ministerial attention.
As a result, no set of government proposals on leaving the EU will be published until February at the earliest. Even then, the paper, or the letter, that the UK will send to the EU may contain options. A recourse to options only weeks before the UK starts the serious negotiating may be a bargaining tactic, or an admission that even at the eleventh hour the government has not reached a consensus.
In the words of Lord Kerr, the UK’s wiliest former European diplomat, it is always a good idea when arriving at an airport to know where you are planning to fly to. At present there is no agreed destination. The preference of half the Conservative party is a vertiginous descent into Singapore, while the other half would not mind a gentle plane ride to Oslo or Zurich, adjacent to Europe, but not inside. British capital, and we live in a capitalist society, would prefer the former.
Second, it is apparent – partly due to this lack of an agreed destination – that there will have to be a transition agreement. But there are different versions of a transition agreement. Some see the transition agreement as a necessity forced on the UK due to the complexities of the talks ahead. Across the gamut of politics, there is simply too much to resolve within the timetable of two years.
In the past fortnight that has become a commonplace, but it makes some sceptics uneasy. In fact, they smell a rat. Lord Kerr is fond of quoting the French diplomatic view that there is nothing more permanent than a provisional agreement. The transition – a place half-in and half-out of the EU – risks becoming the UK’s final resting place.
But some sceptics do not balk at a transition, so long as it is clearly only an implementation timetable to reach a clear destination outside the EU.
Giving select committee evidence, David Davis, the Brexit minister, appeared to lean towards the latter camp, saying: “Whatever the transitional arrangement is, we need to know where we are going before we decide on the transition. If you build a bridge you need to have both sides established before you build the bridge. So we need to know where we are going: it seems to me to be perfectly possible to know what the endgame is within two years.”
But the drawback is that if the destination has to be agreed as part of the transition, the chief value of transition, deferment, is lost. Even a two-year timetable may be complacent. Insurance houses and banks need to know their future regulatory environment as early as next year not in 2019.
The third hint of clarity is about politics. Philip Hammond, the chancellor, has emerged alongside David Davis as the power broker. That is not surprising. Hammond may not be box office, but he has an analytical mind that impresses civil servants. He quickly crystallises issues and is also one of those politicians that is unconcerned with his popularity, and so just speaks his mind. He has determined to become the voice of the business interest inside cabinet. The monotone should not be mistaken for a lack of political courage.
It cannot be assumed that Davis has formed an axis with Hammond but, if he did, Theresa May would struggle to resist.
It is not in the new prime minister’s nature to lead from the front – indeed she campaigned in prose and largely governs in silence. Her instinct is to give as little away as possible until absolutely necessary. As a form of internal party management, inscrutability has its advantages, but unless she is careful, foreign leaders will start viewing her as a figure being shaped by events, rather than shaping them.
