Omens

A few days ago, there was a total lunar eclipse, and as the moon passed fully into the Earth’s shadow, it took on a deep red hue, a “blood moon” seen across the world’s skies. For much of human history, such a sight would have been greeted as a sign of change, upheaval, violence — a divine message that would topple empires, end dynasties and invert the social order. In our enlightened age, such influences are dismissed, yet over the past week friends and acquaintances have lost jobs, seen pets die, and had relationships break up. Ambulances and police cars have been howling constantly by, and an uneasy sense of passing into a new, unsettled season was everywhere. 

This private tumult has been reflected in public chaos. In this week alone, American pundit Charlie Kirk was assassinated, Deputy Leader Angela Rayner has been forced out of office, ambassador to America Lord Mandelson has departed under a further scandal, and bitter debates over assisted dying raged in the House of Lords. As British and American politics swirl with menace, novelty and violence are blowing in with the autumn winds. 

I walked through London on Saturday, with the feeling that I was stepping into a new world, and a new age. Men with England flags and Union Jacks flooded by my local cafe, and I tripped over empty cans of lager and squeezed by surging crowds of tattooed men in too-tight t-shirts. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of people had descended on London for Tommy Robinson’s “unite the kingdom” march. As I moved past the pubs around Waterloo, and in towards Westminster, the flags multiplied and the red-faced drinkers were joined by whole families swathed in flags, and pale young men in three-piece suits. Marchers rubbed shoulders with Asian and American tourists with selfie sticks, and tourist stalls full of Union Jack memorabilia did a roaring trade.

Possibly the most critical thing I can say about the SDP is that they’re far too appealing to me

The march, like many London protests, had the atmosphere of a big day out in the capital. As with the farmers who descended on Westminster last year, there was a certain confident swagger; a feeling of a marginalised group asserting itself in the centre of power, and taking ownership of it for the day. Was this malice or merriment? 

Robinson invoked events over the pond, a body of water that has never felt more narrow, and speaking of Kirk’s killer, he breathed rage against “the bastard who has murdered him, or the organisation, the corporation or the government it is that has killed him”. At the other end of the political spectrum, controversy raged over the comments of the President of the Oxford Union, student George Abaraonye, who had once debated Kirk in person. Writing in a leaked message to a WhatsApp group, Abaraonye wrote “Charlie Kirk got shot, let’s fucking go”, and boasted that he had won on the “scoreboard”. Abaraonye, it was subsequently revealed, gained admittance to Oxford despite only attaining two Bs and one A at A-Level, fueling speculation that he was a “diversity hire”. 

As all of this discourse buzzed its way into the phone in my pocket, and flags swayed in the September sunlight, I contemplated how much Britain has changed, and for the worse. The new Britain is deep in America’s shadow, adopting all its worst elements of consumerism and partisanship, obsessively tied to the shifting fashions of a foreign hegemon. It’s the Britain of the hooliganism of Tommy Robinsons and the thuggishness of overpromoted George Abaraonyes — both twitching to the currents of American pop culture and politics. And caught in the middle are a vast centreground of uncertain and wobbly liberals, the Starmers and the Badenochs. It’s a Britain that feels shopworn and sad, confusing and listless. 

My walk, beset by these thoughts, had a destination: the SDP (Social Democratic Party) conference at Church House. Red, white and blue were in evidence here too, lighting up the stage, and the ceiling above, bearing the words of hymnist G.H. Palmer, were flooded with patriotic hues: “Holy is the True Light, and passing wonderful, lending radiance to them that endured in the heat of the conflict, from Christ they inherit a home of unfading splendour, wherein they rejoice with gladness evermore.”

In a political arena dominated by welfarist Labour, Thatcherite Tories, and a Reform party that doesn’t know what it believes, the SDP is a blast from the past. Originally founded in the early 1980s by Labour rebels, it came close to displacing a left hopelessly beholden to the unions and special interests. After forcing Labour to change course, the party merged with the Liberals, creating the Lib Dems. Yet the remaining continuity SDP, long forgotten to history, has been revived following the ructions of post-Brexit politics. The disappointments of a referendum result sold as restoring British sovereignty and prosperity, but that instead saw mass migration surge to new heights and the economy further stagnate, has lent populism a more extreme and urgent edge. The SDP still remains extremely small, but with its old left commitment to an interventionist state allied to a patriotic focus on the national interest, it offers an alternative to growing extremes, attracting some high profile supporters. In 2018 Patrick O’Flynn, a UKIP MEP defected over the antics of a familiar figure — UKIP had joined forces with Tommy Robinson. Soon afterwards the SDP gained the endorsement of prominent columnist Rod Liddle, who spoke at the Westminster conference.

The SDPs big hope is that, despite being a minnow in the troubled waters of British politics, it could grow quickly if it can be seen as an off-ramp in the face of growing radicalism and centrist incompetence.

The headline policy offer of the SDP is a focus on state capacity, with an ambitious green paper entitled “energy abundance”, laying out a serious and credible plan to rapidly scale up British energy production, and bring down residential and commercial energy prices. If there is something nostalgic about the SDP, then it is perhaps a nostalgia for the future. The online enthusiasm for “anglo-futurism”, half meme, half aesthetic, focuses on images of English tradition and history superimposed on gleaming trains, spaceships and buildings surging into the sky. There is a general instinct that our future lies somewhere lost in our past — the optimistic vision of the Festival of Britain. 

Thus it is perhaps fitting that the most old fashioned party is also the one most focused on hard economic and state policy, whilst new-new-Labour, engineer-led Tories and freshly minted populist Reform are obsessed with symbolic wins and struggle to address structural problems. 

There was also something extremely refreshing in the words of leader William Clouston, who denounced both progressivism and the “volkish nationalism and civil conflict” that he rightly blames on progressive failures. Yet as a voice of moderation, he is a surprisingly forceful one, calling for statist “brute force” to unblock policy deadlocks, and promising offshore detention on Ascension island, and the deportation of all foreign criminals and illegal immigrants. 

Whilst other parties have traded in ambiguous rhetoric on nationality and migration, even including Keir Starmer, who paraphrased Enoch Powell in a speech he has since stepped back from, the SDP is almost alone in making their position entirely explicit. According to Clouston, “We need to ask those demanding remigration what they want, and what they actually mean”. He suggested instead that remigration, outside of criminals, should be voluntary, and for those who can’t integrate or succeed in Britain. That this basic civilised limit is not clear in the rhetoric of other parties and politicians is shaming, and it’s greatly to the SDP’s credit that it should be both strong and honest in its approach.

Possibly the most critical thing I can say about the SDP is that they’re far too appealing to me, a postliberal academic. Talk about “civilisational” politics, the need for a “proper elite” that works for that national interest, and quotations from Epicurus, may be music to my ears, but (sadly) I am not the British electorate. The flamboyant, celebrity culture-fueled rise of Farage is far closer to what rouses the animal spirits of the British people. Amongst the educated classes and the urban young, the earnest anti-charisma of a Corbyn, the activism of pop stars at Glastonbury, and the ethnic identity politics of Palestine and BLM eat up all the energy. The SDPs relative sanity is popular on paper, but desperately struggles for cut-through at a time when the two paths to a bigger profile are the madness of social media or the establishment filter of legacy media. Transpose William Clouston and the SDP’s platform to a Tory or Labour leader and it would undoubtedly resonate with the public, but it is now unimaginable that Labour or Tory members and MPs would allow it. 

The man sitting next to me, a new member, asked the relevant question. Nobody, he said, seems to have heard of the SDP — how could the party gain the awareness and salience they need to win votes? Only time will tell if this is a question the party can successfully answer. But one thing is clear: even if it is not the SDP itself, some version of its vision of a strong state, a revived industrial base, a secure border and a unified, patriotic society must win out if Britain is to have a future as a nation.