‘We want to remain in the EU’: What will happen to Gibraltar after Brexit?

Standing at the summit of Gibraltar, looking down at the oil tankers and container ships crisscrossing the narrow straits below, you can see why this rocky promontory has always been so important. In past centuries, whoever controlled this rock controlled all the shipping that passed beneath it, between Europe and Africa, between the Atlantic and the Med.

For the past 300 years the country that’s controlled the Rock of Gibraltar has been Britain, but as the end of the transition period draws near this crowded peninsular has become significant for an entirely different reason. For half a century, Gibraltar has prospered mightily through Britain’s membership of the European Union. But now Britain is leaving the EU and taking Gibraltar with it, even though Gibraltarians voted by a massive 96 per cent to 4 per cent to remain. So how will Gibraltar’s reluctant departure affect its relationship with Spain – and Britain? Last week, I went back to Gibraltar to find out.

I first visited Gibraltar four years ago, a few months after the EU referendum. I was curious to see how the Gibraltarians felt about those Brexiteers back in Blighty who’d outvoted them. Gibraltar had voted to remain by a far greater margin than any region in mainland Britain. Would Brexit be the lever that tilted Gibraltarians away from Britain, towards Spain?

Arriving in Gibraltar, I soon learned that this would never happen – at least, not so long as its 33,000 inhabitants have anything to do with it. The way I saw it, they were Brexit’s biggest victims – but although they were shocked by the result (one Gibraltarian told me it felt like a death in the family) it quickly became clear that for these loyal subjects, being British trumped everything, even Brexit ("We shall never surrender – British forever," read a sign outside the gift shop). Although they’d voted overwhelmingly to remain, they’d done so, above all, because they wanted to remain British. Unlike a lot of Britons – but like a good many Europeans – they regarded the EU as a safeguard of their national sovereignty, rather than a threat.

In 1967 Gibraltar voted by over 99 per cent to remain British, and half a century later not a lot has changed. In 2002, the British and Spanish governments began to explore the possibility of shared sovereignty (subject to Gibraltarian consent), whereupon the Gibraltarian government jumped the gun and staged their own referendum on the issue before negotiations had got going. Nearly 99 per cent voted against, killing the idea stone dead.

Gibraltar’s attitude towards the EU is less patriotic, more pragmatic. Since Gibraltar joined, as part of Britain, in 1973, their main concerns have always been Spanish claims of sovereignty over Gibraltar, and the free flow of goods and people between Gibraltar and Spain. Gibraltarians have always feared that Brexit could make these matters worse, which is why a vast majority of them voted to remain in the EU – to no avail.

Spain’s historic sovereignty claim is a relatively abstract issue. A far more pressing problem is the border. Goods and people travel in both directions across this narrow isthmus. Fifteen thousand Spanish commuters travel to Gibraltar every day. Ten million tourists visit Gibraltar each year and many of them come via Spain. Many Gibraltarians have second homes in Spain, where property is cheaper. Gibraltar imports almost all its food, much of it through Spain. If Brexit results in a hard border, both economies will suffer. “Life will change radically for the worse if there is no deal, and not just for the people of Gibraltar,” said Fabian Picardo, Gibraltar’s chief minister.

Four years ago, that prospect looked like a worst-case scenario. Now it looks like the most likely outcome, so how do Gibraltarians feel today? Have they lost confidence in the UK government and its stubborn commitment to a hard Brexit? Are they determined to remain in the single market, even if it means a closer relationship with Spain? Before I returned here last week I might have thought so, but after a few days here I doubt it. The business leaders I spoke to were certainly apprehensive about the prospect of a hard border, yet they seemed confident that Gibraltar would muddle through.

“We were adamant we wanted to remain in the EU,” says Vijay Daryanani MP, Gibraltar’s minister for business, tourism and transport. Ensuring ease of access for tourists, commuters and importers – that was the main reason for the Remain vote, and yet, as he tells me, Britain comes first. “We wouldn’t have it any other way. But look, the European link is there, due to what we’ve been used to for the last 40 odd years, and I think primarily because of the proximity that we have with Spain, the frontier we have with Spain – otherwise the result could have been quite different.”

Gibraltar’s EU membership has coincided with a huge boom in its economy, but as Daryanani points out, Spain’s accession was equally significant. “The frontier opened because of Spain’s entry into the EU, so it has made a difference and it has helped our economy, and that is a reason why we wanted to remain, because we have done well out of this situation.”

Even though that situation is about to change, he remains optimistic that the various governments will find a way through. “I’d like to think that common sense will prevail,” he says. “Nobody wants to get involved in the politics of this. What they want is a solution, so that everybody can live as normal, and function as normal, like we have done since the frontier opened.”

How can Gibraltarians be so aware of the economic advantages of the EU, yet remain so attached to Brexit Britain? How can they foresee the troubles ahead, yet still feel so confident about the future? To understand this, you need to understand Gibraltar’s history, and how it’s shaped the national character – a curious, dynamic mix of optimism, solidarity and defiance.

Gibraltar has been conquered and colonised by virtually every Mediterranean civilisation you can think of – most notably by the Moors, who were here for 750 years (longer than the British and the Spanish combined). The Brits were merely the last in a long line of invaders, seizing it from the Spanish (who’d seized it from the Moors) in 1704. Its Spanish inhabitants were expelled, and Gib became a British fortress. As Britain built an empire, it became a priceless asset. From this strategic position, at the mouth of the Mediterranean, Britain could police every ship that entered or left the Med.

During the 18th century Spain made several attempts to retake Gibraltar, culminating in the Great Siege of 1779-83. Protected by Gibraltar’s robust battlements, the British garrison held out, but the town was reduced to ruins and many soldiers and civilians died. Several centuries later, this ordeal still enjoys a prominent place in Gibraltarian folklore. Its mementoes are all around you, from the heroic paintings in the museum to the shrapnel scars in the city walls. Here in Gibraltar, the past feels very close.

Gibraltar played a pivotal role in both world wars, especially the Second World War, when Hitler planned to seize the Rock in an action codenamed Operation Felix. In preparation for this bloody showdown, Gibraltar’s women and children were evacuated, many of them to Britain, while their menfolk stayed behind to support the British garrison. In the end Operation Felix never happened, but for these families this long separation was another ordeal which reinforced their sense of shared identity. “When the chips are down, we’re there for each other,” says Daryanani.

The ordeal which cemented Gibraltar’s communal spirit was General Franco’s decision to close the border, in 1969. Confined to a strip of land barely three miles long and less than a mile wide, Gibraltarians learned to pull together, giving them a can-do attitude, and an enduring distrust of Spain (one man even went so far as to remind me that Gibraltar is geologically distinct from Spain – “a piece of Africa that’s stuck on the end of Europe”). Spain finally opened the border in 1985, as a precondition of joining the EU. It’s this, above all else, which accounts for the EU’s popularity in Gibraltar.

Since Spain joined the EU, in 1986, Gibraltar has been transformed, and the most transformative event was the withdrawal of the British military. The Royal Naval dockyard closed in 1984. The British garrison departed in 1990. There’s still a military presence, but it’s a shadow of what it used to be. The Ministry of Defence used to account for well over half of Gibraltarian GDP. Now it’s a small fraction. Gibraltar had been a military base for almost 300 years. Without its main employer, how would it survive?

As it turned out, Britain’s military withdrawal has been a blessing in disguise. During the past 30 years, Gibraltar has reinvented itself as a bustling financial hub. Attracted by corporation taxes of just 10 per cent, new business has flooded in. Online gaming is a major industry, and so is insurance. Old military sites have been opened up and adapted for civilian uses. Land reclamation projects have significantly increased Gibraltar’s landmass. There are lots of high-rise buildings going up, everything from luxury apartments to social housing. A miniature metropolis, with the mod cons of a big city and the conviviality of a small town, it’s an intimate yet invigorating place.

It's also surprisingly multicultural, a world away from the old colonial stereotype of pasty British expats drinking warm beer in the sun. Gibraltar has always attracted immigrants from all around the Med – many are of Maltese, Genoese and Portuguese descent. The Rock has long been a safe haven for persecuted people: Gibraltar’s Jewish community dates back to the Middle Ages; more recently, it became a refuge for routed Spanish Republicans during the Spanish Civil War. When Franco shut the border, cutting off Spanish commuters from Gibraltar, these Spaniards were replaced by Moroccan workers. When the border reopened and the Spanish returned, many of those Moroccans stayed. There are Anglican and Catholic cathedrals (most Gibraltarians are Roman Catholic), numerous nonconformist churches, a Hindu temple, a spectacular mosque and several synagogues.

“The most amazing thing is that everybody gets on,” says Peter Millhouse, a Bristolian who moved out here 20 years ago, with his wife Stella, who was born and raised in Gibraltar (they make the award-winning Campion gin here, through their company, Spirit of the Rock). “I think Gibraltar is a model for the world – about how you tolerate other people’s religions and beliefs, and just get on with life and coexist.”

Gibraltar’s booming economy supports all sorts of perks, above and beyond what mainland Britons receive. Gibraltar has its own university, but most of its students attend British universities, where their tuition fees and living costs are paid by the Gibraltarian government. Healthcare is also free, and if Gibraltar’s modern hospital can’t do the job then the government supports specialist treatment in Spanish or British hospitals. The cost of living here is high, but so is the quality of life. You can see why these patriotic people would like to stay as they are, within the UK and the EU.

But can Gibraltarians continue to enjoy the best of both worlds, or does Brexit mean they’ll be forced to choose? Some Gibraltarians muttered to me about a special deal in the pipeline, which would maintain a soft border with Spain. You can understand why both sides are keen: Gibraltar needs its EU imports and its Spanish commuters; Spain needs the money those commuters and exporters earn, and the money Gibraltarians spend in Spain.

“Obviously there’s a lot of anxiety about the border, because they went through 15 years when the border with Spain was closed, and that was not a good time, and they really want to avoid that,” says the Rev Ian Tarrant, Dean of the Anglican Cathedral of Gibraltar. “And we think Spain wants to avoid that as well, because so many workers come across every day.”

If they can pull off a bespoke deal, Gibraltar will be the envy of countless Britons who never envisaged a hard Brexit, even if they voted Leave. But surely this would set a precedent which the European Union would be loath to countenance? For the EU, protecting the integrity of the single market is paramount. After all, what makes the single market so powerful – and profitable – is that, for its many members, one size fits all.

Perhaps the ideal solution would be for Gibraltar to copy Norway and Iceland, which are both in the single market, but outside the EU. Can Gibraltar strike such a deal, separate from the UK? If they do, it could be the first step on Britain’s long journey back into Europe – maybe not to full EU membership, with its flags and anthems and common currency, but to the economic and cultural cooperation which has served Gibraltar so well.