“As a moat defensive to a house,/Against the envy of less happier lands” wrote Shakespeare in Richard II, articulating a vision of Britain that would resonate through centuries of political thought. This metaphor of insular defensibility, far from being mere poetic flourish, captures a fundamental tension in British identity that resonates from the era of “splendid isolation” to the Brexit referendum.
Britain’s relationship with international engagement has never been straightforward. The nation has fluctuated between isolation and intervention, a pattern visible across centuries: from deep involvement in the Hundred Years’ War to a subsequent domestic focus, from nineteenth- century free trade advocacy to Brexit-era protectionism. Churchill encapsulated this in his History of English- Speaking Peoples (1956): Britain’s story centres on “an island, not widely sundered from the Continent”. Close enough to engage, distant enough to withdraw. Britain’s geographical separation has developed a duality that continues to shape its unique approach to foreign policy and global influence. It is one that Shakespeare crystallises in his texts, particularly in his Venetian plays: The Merchant of Venice, and Othello.
Shakespeare is often placed upon a pedestal, said to be “timeless” and “universal”. This view risks divorcing the plays from their context, by which they lose their intended meaning. Political figures are often likened to Shakespearean characters, such as Donald Trump and Richard III, Joe Biden and King Lear, Volodymyr Zelensky and Henry V. What we can say instead is that these comparisons are driven by the social, economic, and political forces of Shakespeare’s time, which, though transformed, still ring true today. To understand history, we must turn to the literature of the time, as these texts do more than mirror societal values. They critique, document, and even shape the ideologies and events of an era. In Shakespeare’s Early Modern Britain, a nation navigating its evolving role on the global stage, we can find roots of the nationalism that was the driving force behind Brexit.
The Merchant of Venice and Othello offer particularly revealing windows into British attitudes toward globalisation and national identity. Venice in Shakespeare’s time presented a compelling parallel to London’s situation: a wealthy, multicultural maritime island at the crossroads of global trade. As historian Leo Salinger notes, “Venetian society” in Early Modern English literature functioned as “a refracted projection of London”. Yet this parallel carried anxieties.
A 1593 Parliamentary debate voiced concern that in Venice, “any Stranger may buy, sell, or purchase House or Lands… as freely as any Citizen” – a fear that resonates with modern debates about immigration and sovereignty.
The theatre offers a powerful insight into audience consensus, as its purpose as a medium is direct engagement with its viewers. Consider two outsiders: Shylock, the Jewish moneylender, and Othello, the Moorish general. Both achieve positions of influence in Venetian society, and both make the Early Modern audience distinctly uncomfortable. When characters fret about “the commodity that strangers have with us in Venice,” in The Merchant of Venice, they’re voicing the same concerns that plagued English merchants. The idea that foreigners might gain too much economic power struck a particularly raw nerve.
Othello’s case proves even more provocative. His marriage to Desdemona, daughter of a Venetian senator, triggers panic about social boundaries being breached. “Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags!” comes Iago’s cry, a perfect encapsulation of fears about property, bloodlines, and wealth being compromised by outsiders. That a “valiant” Moor could marry into “gentle” Brabantio’s family was meant to shock.
Though both portrayals are sympathetic to an extent, Shakespeare ensures to soothe the audience. By the final curtain, both outsiders are firmly put in their place. Even after Othello’s death, his fortunes and house are seized (“Gratiano, keep the house,/And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor”). The state confiscates his property as if to erase all trace of his presence. Shylock suffers a different but equally complete dispossession. When forced to give up his money and thereby his money lending practice, he delivers a eulogy for his own life. “You take my house when you do take the prop/That doth sustain my house; you take my life/When you do take the means whereby I live”. The message is clear: access to Venetian society – read: English society – may be granted, but it can also be revoked.
MODERN BRITAIN FINDS ITSELF CAUGHT BETWEEN THE SAME COMPETING IMPULSES OF ISOLATION AND ENGAGEMENT THAT SHAKESPEARE DRAMATISED THROUGH HIS VENETIAN PLAYS.
The slogans surrounding Brexit, such as “Take back control” and “We want our country back” tapped into British insularity that proved decisive at the ballot box. Immigration dominated the Leave campaign’s messaging, with populist Nigel Farage channelling these anxieties. This pattern of isolation thinking has surfaced repeatedly in British politics from the 1975 anti-EEC campaign “Make Britain Great Again”, to the recent Conservative government’s Rwanda scheme. Fears about foreigners and maritime borders are intertwined long before Rishi Sunak’s rallying to “stop the boats”, when Bassanio in The Merchant of Venice compares the treacherous waters beyond Venice to an “Indian beauty” hidden beneath her veil. Just as Shakespeare’s Venice sought to control its waters to preserve national identity, Britain continues to frame its maritime borders as boundaries between security and threat. The stage may have changed, but the questions about British identity and its relationship with the wider world remain consistent.
Modern Britain finds itself caught between the same competing impulses of isolation and engagement that Shakespeare dramatised through his Venetian plays. Shakespeare’s work does not merely articulate these tensions but shows how they are woven into the fabric of British identity. As Britain navigates its post-Brexit future, these same anxieties about sovereignty, identity, and belonging continue to shape its relationship with the wider world, suggesting that the nation’s island mentality, far from being a relic of the past, remains a powerful force in determining its political destiny.
