While Brexit negotiations have stalled, British businesses are heaving with activity—though not of the freewheeling, entrepreneurial variety that Brexiteers once promised. Instead of rejoicing in the cutting of European red tape, top executives now find themselves making preparations for the United Kingdom to crash out of the E.U. with no plan, no customs union, and no way to conduct trade with its single biggest market. “This is a disaster for business,” according to Business Minister Richard Harrington, who is presumably in a position to know.
The crisis isn’t just playing out in Parliament, but in boardrooms across London and Leicester, Luton and Loughborough. Every time Theresa May fields a vote of no confidence, top supermarket brass are strategizing about stockpiling tins of tuna. As Jeremy Corbyn continues to deny voters clarity as to Labour’s stance on the impending divorce, somewhere outside Westminster, a top pharmaceutical honcho is drawing up plans to accumulate medicine. Pets at Home is collecting cat food. Associated British Foods, which produces the beloved Twinings tea, is pre-buying ingredients. One savvy businessman has begun selling emergency “Brexit Boxes,” which contain freeze-dried favorites like chicken tikka, plus a water filter and a fire starter, in the event of a no-deal economic apocalypse.
All these hasty preparations have sparked another problem: Britain, morphing into an oversize warehouse, is running out of storage capacity. According to Harrington, “nearly every square meter” of warehouse space in the country is now full. “We are facing a ‘perfect storm’ in the warehousing and logistics industry, with little speculative build in the pipeline [and] urban development land earmarked for residential but not for the warehousing required to fulfill rising consumer demand,” reads a statement from the U.K. Warehousing Association.
The drab image of Britain’s warehouses overflowing with life-saving supplies and tin pots of peas is a far cry from the smooth, sparkling vision outlined by Vote Leave leaders. “Britain is a great country. We will be even greater if we take back control of our own democracy,” cheered Brexiteers Michael Gove, Boris Johnson, and Gisela Stuart in an online post just before the 2016 referendum vote. “Finally, when you are talking to people—please reassure them that after we Vote Leave, there won’t be a sudden change that disrupts the economy.”
With Brexit scheduled to arrive in nine weeks, and Parliament still divided over May’s withdrawal deal, the British food sector is trying desperately to take back control. Tesco, the largest supermarket chain, has rented an emergency supply of refrigerated units. Marks & Spencer, already in significant financial trouble, is stockpiling nonperishable items. Speaking to Politico on the condition of anonymity, two retail officials explained that supermarkets are hesitant to reveal the scale of the no-deal planning for fear of catalyzing a bout of panic buying. “There is a little bit of a worry that if you talk about it too much, you might create the problem you are trying to avoid,” one of the sources said. As Politico points out, their reticence is also bound to another factor. The government has slapped non-disclosure agreements on multiple companies to keep them from revealing the severity of the crisis.
Supermarkets can line warehouses with dried food, but fresh food poses more of a problem. If a no-deal strangles trade routes, fruits and vegetables will simply perish. The automobile industry is suffering from a similar problem. BMW’s customs manager, Stephan Freismuth, told Politico that stockpiling would work for a few days. Beyond that would mean building “the highest building in the world.” Even a record-breaking edifice wouldn’t solve their woes. BMW’s supply chain relies on small parts being imported from the E.U. and used at a specific time in the assemblage process. “We are looking for additional [warehouse] space, but in the end, it’s not possible. We are producing ‘just in time,’ and just in sequence,” Freismuth said.
A key frustration for businesses is that, while they are funneling their resources down a black, Brexit-shaped hole, politicians might suddenly stop fighting, strike up a compromise, and avert a no-deal. That would be a far better outcome than leaving without an agreement, but it would also mean that enormous reserves of cash and brainpower would have been wasted.
Still, it’s understandable why businesses are intent on taking precautions. The government’s contingency planning hasn’t exactly been reassuring: so far, it has awarded a nearly £14 million no-deal contract to a ferry company without any ferries, and staged a sparsely attended fake traffic jam to show how lorries could cope under a no-deal.
While most companies don’t have the money or the means to do anything except work out ways to ensure their survival (and, through stockpiling, the survival of the British people), others have decided that Brexit Britain isn’t an economically viable option, and have announced plans to set up shop elsewhere. Among those fleeing are Sony (moving its European HQ to Amsterdam); P&O (registering its English Channel ferries in Cyprus); and, perhaps most controversially, Dyson. Rebranding as a “global technology company” rather than a British hoover brand, it is “future-proofing” by heading to Singapore, which, as The Guardian’s Jonathan Freedland points out, recently signed a trade agreement with the E.U.
James Dyson, of course, is not only Britain’s wealthiest man, but also an unrepentant Brexiteer who, in 2017, said of a no-deal with Europe, “They’ll come to us.” He must be hoping that the public will accept the official line that Dyson’s move has “nothing to do with Brexit.” Then again, by the time Brexit happens, he’ll be cushioned from accusations of hypocrisy by more than 6,000 miles—and, presumably, a steady income in euros.
