On 16 June 2016, a week before the date of the UK’s referendum on the European Union, my phone suddenly flashed with several breaking news alerts: it was early afternoon and the shocking news was that Jo Cox, the young and brilliant MP for Batley and Spen had been shot dead by a man who, according to witnesses, had yelled “This is for Britain!”, “Keep Britain independent!” and “Put Britain first!” A week later, like many others, I made my way to Trafalgar Square for a memorial in her honour. I had a broken ankle and stood well to the side on my crutches. At one point we were asked to join hands, which felt like a very un-British thing to do and somewhat perilous in my case. But the man next to me extended his hand with a smile and so there we were: me wobbly on one crutch, and him providing balance. Although the fabric of the nation had already been frayed by the campaign, and by Jo Cox’s murder, there was at that moment a desire to overcome the divisions that had been made so deep and so glaring by a referendum campaign that had been ugly and brutal – to the point of unleashing murder. It would also really be the last time in which a public conversation took place about the fact that a young MP, a mother of two, was murdered in broad daylight during the referendum campaign. While her name comes up, as it is both fondly remembered and attached to a number of causes, there has been no discussion about it; political violence has been swept under the carpet by blaming the murderer’s mental illness. Yet one wonders whether the acrimony between the two sides (Leave and Remain), the still-born deals, the miscommunication, the sense of a great unravelling of British politics and a shaming of its political landscape for ego, greed, and incompetence can really be entirely disconnected from the death that marked the campaign’s lowest point.

I am putting the finishing touches to this chapter as the negotiations of the UK’s withdrawal from the European Union enter their final stage.