Nothing in this article has appeared in isolation. It reflects on information, reporting and analysis that have been in the public domain for many years and asks what we can learn from it.
Ten years on from the Brexit referendum seems an appropriate moment to reflect – not simply on the result, but on how one of the biggest constitutional decisions in modern British history was presented to the public. Time gives us the opportunity to ask the questions that should have been answered before the country was asked to vote.
Before asking a nation to make the biggest constitutional decision in generations, shouldn't the government have presented a fully worked-out plan instead of a collection of promises?
For me, the biggest question about Brexit has never been whether people were right or wrong to vote Leave. In a democracy, the people decide. I respect that. My concern has always been that the public was asked to make the biggest constitutional decision in generations before being shown a detailed, agreed plan for what leaving the European Union would actually involve.
That is how major decisions are supposed to work.
If you're building a bridge, you don't start pouring concrete and then ask the engineers to work out how to make it stand up afterwards. You produce the plans first. You test them. You cost them. You ask whether they will work. Only then do you begin construction.
Brexit should have been no different.
Instead, the British people were presented with a series of promises.
We were told there would be an extra £350 million a week for the country. We were told we would take back control of our borders and immigration. We were told we would produce more of our own food, strike better trade deals around the world than we had within the European Union, regain our sovereignty and decide for ourselves how our money was spent.
Above all, we were told we would "take back control."
It was a powerful slogan. But a slogan isn't a strategy.
What was missing was a detailed, agreed plan explaining exactly how all these promises would be achieved, what the costs might be, what compromises would have to be made, and what the country should realistically expect during the transition.
Those are not minor details. They are the very questions that should have been answered before asking the public to make such an important decision.
Some people say that once the referendum was over, it became the government's job to develop the plan.
I disagree.
The plan should have existed before the referendum, not after it.
The British people deserved to know precisely what they were voting for. They deserved to compare one workable future against another, weighing up the advantages, disadvantages, risks and rewards.
That is how informed decisions are made.
Perhaps this is also the moment to ask how we arrived here. Have we reached a point where simple slogans and certainty carry more weight than careful planning and difficult questions? If so, Brexit is not just a lesson about politics. It is a lesson about how we make decisions as a society.
Democracy depends not only on the right to vote, but on the quality of the information that informs that vote. If we stop questioning, stop challenging what we are told and stop being willing to change our minds when the evidence demands it, we risk making the same mistakes again.
The lesson is not just about Brexit. It's about government itself.
There are many people who are glad we left the European Union, and I respect that. There are many who wish we had remained. But ten years on, perhaps the greatest loss isn't just economic or political – it's social.
Families argued. Friendships fractured. Communities found themselves on opposite sides of a line that still exists today.
I can't help feeling that something was taken from all of us. Not because of the result, but because we were asked to make such a monumental decision without first being given a clear, agreed plan. When people are asked to vote on hope rather than detail, everyone fills in the blanks differently. That's how expectations collide with reality, and that's how division lingers long after the ballots are counted.
When politicians ask a nation to embrace fundamental change, they should present the blueprint before asking people to sign the contract.
As you finish reading this, I would simply ask you to reflect. Whatever your view of Brexit, ask yourself what it has cost us beyond politics and economics. Has it changed the way we speak to one another? Has it weakened trust in our institutions? Has it left families, friendships and communities carrying divisions that still haven't healed?
Whether you voted Leave or Remain is no longer the point. The question is whether we can learn from what happened, so that future generations are never again asked to make a decision of such importance without first being shown a clear, honest and workable plan. That, to me, is nothing more than common sense and fairness. It needed to happen.
We often think of health and wellbeing in terms of counselling, hospitals or medication. But wellbeing is also shaped by the society we live in, the trust we have in one another, and the confidence we have in those who govern us.
Because, in the end, this all comes down to trust. Trust that those asking us to make life-changing decisions have been honest with us. Trust that they have done the work before asking for our support. And trust that, when new information emerges, they have the courage to acknowledge what has been learned, to change course if necessary, and to put the country's interests before their own pride.
Leadership is not measured by never making mistakes. It is measured by recognising them, learning from them and ensuring that others do not continue to bear the cost.
Food for thought.
