common sense has left the chat
I believed, with close to near certainty, that common sense would prevail when the British public made their way to the polling stations on May the 7th. This is, after all, a nation of people who pride themselves on having common sense. The same country whose wartime mantra, 'Keep Calm and Carry On', steadied a nation while the Luftwaffe rained hell from the skies. Surely, I thought, the destructive nature of populist governments will have been made obvious by the recent actions taken by Trump and his band of thieves. I thought that the people of this old and great nation will have all finally arrived at the very British conclusion of 'Nah, we'll have none of that.' Boy was I wrong.
The Labour and Conservative parties sustained heavy losses. Large swathes of this nation have gifted Reform a significant victory, and the smarmy grin on Nigel Farage's mug has grown wider. Thankfully, common sense has prevailed in London, where Reform can only claim the smallest of victories — the East London borough of Havering, which is frankly more Essex than London.
Common sense has always prevailed in London, which is precisely why it is one of, if not the greatest city in the world. Yes, it has its problems, but every city has its problems. What Londoners possess is a deep understanding of cultures and the nuances that arise from them, which in turn has bred a broader understanding of humanity and the philosophies by which others live their lives. We have learned to understand, and sometimes borrow from, other cultures — grasping that there is no single correct way to exist. Londoners seem to me, at least, to be a deeply philosophical people. Reform thrives, populism thrives, where ignorant minds live; minds polluted by scandalous headlines peddled by the red tops and lies spread across social media by attention-seeking narcissists whose sole aim is monetary gain. Clicks over conscience. Eyeballs over truth.
The obvious and overarching reason Reform has gained so many seats is that the other parties are desperately short of proper leadership. Starmer, Badenoch, Polanski, Davey, for all their faults, appear to have reasonable intentions, but they are severely lacking in the qualities we instinctively look for in our leaders — those ancient, almost primal qualities that have mattered since long before the invention of the focus group. Confidence. Presence. Morality. Ethical principle. And the deceptively simple trait of dressing and presenting oneself with some degree of dignity. This is why I have long been a defender of our Constitutional Monarchy. Our Kings and Queens are bred for public service from a young age, trained in the art of leadership in a way no politician ever is. Plato addressed this idea in The Republic: to excel at something, training must begin early and life must be dedicated to its pursuit. It is no accident that the athletes at the top of their game began young — the neural pathways carved in childhood are deeper and more durable than anything carved in a career reshuffle. The same principle applies to leadership.
Before Trump started an unnecessary war with Iran, I understood the appeal of populism here in the UK. Keir Starmer has shown himself to be a weak and ineffectual leader, while Kemi Badenoch's only discernible policy appears to be that of Chief Antagonist. She is the political embodiment of that insufferable subset of society who buy Samsungs and make a point of telling anyone who will listen why they are superior to iPhones. Contrarianism as a personality is exhausting.
I should probably state my own beliefs, lest you think that this is a fluff piece for one of the other parties. It is not. I align myself to no party, because I do not believe in the party system. I have long held the view that party ideology — the us versus them attitude — distracts from governance; that one is forced to disagree with someone from an opposing party solely for the sake of disagreeing, even if their point has merit. An art that Kemi Badenoch seems desperate to perfect. The governance of society is far too nuanced to be whittled down to red versus blue, green versus yellow. And yet we have long been conditioned to think in binary terms. So I follow politics in much the same way others follow the Champions League — because that, frankly, is what it has become. A game. A sport. How do we win and maintain power? That is the philosophy by which party leaders live, and the rest of us are merely spectators.
What does the near political future of the United Kingdom look like? I genuinely do not know — and these results have rattled me. Viktor Orbán's populist chokehold on Hungary recently came to an end, and I had hoped this would serve as further evidence to the people of this nation of the very real perils of populism. If Trump was Exhibit A, Orbán was Exhibit B. The case against this particular brand of politics seemed, to me, to be making itself. But I was naïve, and now Nigel Farage is one step closer to calling Downing Street home.