How Post-Brexit London is Desperately Clinging to its European Languages

You can still hear it if you stroll down Old Compton Street on any weekday afternoon: a delivery rider talking on the phone in what sounds like Polish or possibly Ukrainian, two women arguing amusingly in Spanish outside a tapas establishment, and the soft clutter of French behind a bakery counter. London has always taken inspiration from all over the world.

But now something seems different. The borrowing seems to have become more intentional, almost protective, as though the city is attempting to preserve something it only recently realized it valued.

The issue of Britain’s relationship with Europe was meant to be resolved by Brexit. Really, it hasn’t. In fact, it has increased the volume of the question. Spanish, Mandarin, French, Arabic, and German are the five languages that the UK most needs to prosper outside of the EU, according to the British Council’s Languages for the Future report. The fact that the list hasn’t altered much since 2013 is telling in and of itself. The nation continues to lag behind in both areas as the world and priorities change.

The contradiction is difficult to ignore. On the surface, London appears to be one of the world’s most international cities. However, only about one-third of Britons are able to have a meaningful conversation in another language. The figures worsen for those aged 18 to 34: 14% in French, 8% in German, 7% in Spanish, and only 2% in Mandarin or Arabic. The future of the nation is purportedly dependent on those languages.

The situation is even more dire in secondary schools. In just one year, GCSE language entries fell by 7.3%. Just one in five students in Wales pursue a GCSE in a modern foreign language. Teachers I’ve spoken to over the years describe a gradual decline: classes are getting smaller, departments are merging, and head teachers are discreetly eliminating German from the schedule because staffing levels are no longer justified. Exporters and investors seem to think that English will get them anywhere. According to the research, it doesn’t. The estimated economic cost—roughly 3.5 percent of GDP—is the kind of amount that ought to be displayed on a billboard outside Whitehall. It isn’t.

Strangely, though, the appetite hasn’t diminished. Waiting lists are reported by adult language schools in Bermondsey and Bloomsbury. Due in part to the post-Brexit lifestyle shift—people purchasing homes in Andalusia, freelancers pursuing Lisbon tax breaks, and families considering visas they never previously considered—Spanish classes in particular have skyrocketed. It also has a subtle emotional appeal. As you watch this happen, you get the impression that a lot of Londoners are now learning languages for comfort rather than business, as a means of maintaining ties to a continent they are no longer politically a part of.

It’s unclear if any of it contributes to a national turnaround. Vicky Gough of the British Council has been direct: the nation will suffer economically and culturally if languages are not made a national priority. The Welsh “Global Futures” strategy and the Scottish “1+2” model demonstrate what is achievable when policy becomes serious. Westminster has not been as persuaded. Perhaps that will change. Perhaps it doesn’t. For the time being, London continues to hum in six different accents, clinging to a Europeanness that it was told it no longer needed while secretly wagering that it still does.