The narrow decision by the British people to exit the European Union in the referendum of 23 June 2016 highlighted a major disconnect between Britain's governing elites and the British public on the question of Europe. It also illustrated the rise of populist politics, identity as a salient factor in voting behavior, and a reaction against “establishments” and “experts.” From Brexit to the election of Donald Trump, bold narratives of “change” are in the air at what could prove to be a very unsettling time in global history.

In this context, Benjamin Grob-Fitzgibbon's timely, thoroughly informative Continental Drift: Britain and Europe from the End of Empire to the Rise of Euroscepticism provides a sobering perspective on Britain's troubled relationship with the European integration project since 1945. Using a wealth of archival material, diaries, and memoirs, Grob-Fitzgibbon identifies the key themes that run through the narratives and practices of British foreign policy in the era since the Second World War. The focus, naturally, is on the European dimension, but this is tied nicely into an account of British foreign policy activity in the other two of Winston Churchill's famous “circles” of British foreign policy: the United States and the British Empire and Commonwealth. The only disappointment is that the substantive element of the book ends with the Maastricht years. However, that should not lessen the appeal of the account in terms of the depth and acuity of analysis, which, as Grob-Fitzgibbon suggests in his conclusion, is perfectly able to enlighten us about more recent developments.

In part one Grob-Fitzgibbon tells the story of British foreign policy with respect to Europe and the wider world during the decade or so of Britain's economic and geostrategic traumas after the end of the Second World War. In this period, the governing elites consistently struggled to define and implement a coherent role for Britain in the world. Buffeted by a concatenation of factors emanating from economic frailty at home, turbulence in the empire, and global insecurity in the emerging Cold War, British policy makers—especially on the Conservative side—were initially proactive in pushing the cause of European unity. That said, their ruling narratives and the associated diplomacy were riven by ambiguities and inconsistencies. For example, Churchill, a key figure in the European Movement, offered pro-European rhetoric while out of office from 1945 to 1951. However, when the Conservatives were returned to government from 1951 to 1955, his policy was much more cautious.

Likewise, Clement Attlee's post-1945 Labor governments were riven by faction and fixated for the most part on rebuilding Britain using large-scale nationalization of key industries. Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin initially implemented a relatively Europeanist foreign policy. Gradually, though—through a combination of Bevin's personal ill health and disillusionment with the European Movement on party political grounds—Britain's willingness and indeed ability to “lead” in Europe were increasingly frustrated. The 1950 Schuman Plan was a particularly significant moment because it crystallized two opposing visions of unity. The French government, seeking a bold initiative with the backing of Washington, wrenched the leadership of Europe from Britain's hands. By accident or design, British elites were never again to be in the driving seat of European integration, as France, Germany, and their allies in “the six” moved ahead on supranational grounds.

The high point of Britain's contribution to European unity might well have been Anthony Eden's creation of the Western European Union in 1954. However, this was a short-lived and very personal triumph that did not signal an ideological conversion to supranational integration. Intergovernmentalism and a concern to protect sovereignty have always been hallmarks of the British approach. Why? As Eden explained, it is because of the requirements to keep a free hand over the Commonwealth and sterling area and because of Britain's worldwide interests and commitments (180).

In part two, Grob-Fitzgibbon tells the story of the years during which elites in Britain began to perceive that they were being left behind by their continental neighbors, who had begun to forge ahead with supranational forms of integration in a wider customs union for goods and services. London's Free Trade Area riposte was a short-lived experiment that did little to remedy the sense of postimperial decline. It also left a bitter taste in the mouths of many integrationists outside Britain, who felt the British were trying to torpedo their plans at birth. The sense of betrayal is palpable, even today. The slow, steady, tortuous process by which Britain applied, was twice rejected, and finally became a member of the European Economic Community in 1973 are astutely dealt with in chapters 11–15.

In the last three chapters, Grob-Fitzgibbon deals with the first two decades of Britain's membership of the European Economic Community as it first widened and then deepened to become the European Union via the Maastricht Treaty. Britain's own travails began with the 1975 European Economic Community membership referendum—an essential point of reference for anyone wishing to understand the 2016 referendum. In 1975, after securing a two-thirds majority to stay in, integrationists felt that “the issue had been put to bed once and for all” (389). Yet it was only in fact the beginning of a long process through which opposition to European integration would harden and spread around the British political system and civil society. The 1980s were dominated by party splits over the Europe question, especially but not only on the Labor side. It also saw Euroscepticism as opposition to “social Europe” cement itself at the top of the Conservative Party, culminating in Margaret Thatcher's Bruges speech of September 1988. Britain's successes in helping shape Europe's integration, especially on the economic side, became increasingly harder to publicize domestically, as concerns about the loss of sovereignty and identity came to dominate the national agenda.

As Grob-Fitzgibbon rightly concludes, by the early 1990s Britain was precariously placed as “a post-imperial, Eurosceptic nation” (460), the legacy of which is easy to see. I was gripped by this account and impressed by Grob-Fitzgibbon's command of the subject matter. I was also swayed by his overall argument that British elites have not looked to change fundamentally Britain's approach to Europe since 1945, which they construe as part of a wider, global strategy. Instead, they have been finding new ways to stay the same.