That grinding sense of exhaustion after every election in the UK has to change; we’ve had enough of two-party politics and first-past-the-post and the failed two-party system. Nobody wants to vote as a damage limitation exercise. Holding your nose, ticking a box for the least bad option, and hoping for the best, only to find the ‘best’ felt suspiciously like a slower, slightly more polite version of the same old austere managed decline. That feeling isn’t an accident. It’s the managed despair that keeps a broken two-party system on life support.
But what if that exhaustion is the signal that the game itself is changing? The 2024 election gave Labour a government, but it didn’t provide them with the courage to act on their mandate for real hope. With public support already fraying, a vacuum is opening up on the Left. And it is into this vacuum that the Green Party is stepping, powered not just by a sharp new strategy but by a tidal wave fuelled by hope. With membership surging past 124,000—making them the third-largest party and closing in on the Conservatives—this is no longer just a protest vote. It’s a movement gathering unstoppable force.
This movement is being channelled into a patient, four-phase plan to build a new politics from the ground up.
Phase One: Lay the Foundations in Our Communities. This is where the new energy is most visible. The strategy has already started not in Westminster, but in your town hall, and it’s being executed by a rapidly growing army of activists. The Greens’ 859 councillors are the tip of the spear, but the shaft is the thousands of new members turning up to canvass, deliver leaflets, and stand for election themselves. Every pothole fixed, every local renewable energy scheme approved becomes a proof of concept, building an infrastructure of trust that is powered by sheer people-power.
Phase Two: Inspire a National Conversation. With those local foundations secured by a legion of volunteers, the next step is to take the vision national. This means doubling down on a message of hope that resonates because it’s authentic. The membership surge isn’t happening in a vacuum; it’s a direct response to policies that offer a stark, positive choice: a wealth tax on billionaires to fund public services; bringing energy and rail back into public hands; rent controls to tackle the housing crisis. The strategy is to link these bold ideas to people’s daily lives, framing environmentalism not as a sacrifice, but as the essential toolkit for a fairer, more secure society—a message now amplified by over a hundred thousand voices.
Phase Three: Offer a Clear Choice in the Heartland. This is where the plan becomes truly focused, and where the new-found scale of the party becomes a powerful force for change. The aim is to methodically concentrate on over 100 constituencies where disillusionment with the old parties is highest. An ambition like that would have been a fantasy a few years ago. Now, funded by membership fees and powered by thousands of activists with the enthusiasm the major parties can only dream of, it becomes a credible alternative. This is how you create a green breakthrough: by having the boots on the ground to give voters a genuine choice, converting apathy into engagement and winning a formidable bloc of Green MPs.
Which brings us to Phase Four: Reshape the System for Good. This is the ultimate goal. The most realistic path to power isn’t winning 326 seats outright, but winning enough—perhaps 40, perhaps 60—to hold the balance of power. A strong bloc of Green MPs, backed by the largest and most engaged activist base in the country, would enter a hung parliament not merely as junior partners, but as architects of a new democracy with a non-negotiable mandate: electoral reform. With nearly 70% of the public supporting Proportional Representation, this is the moment you translate people-power into permanent, systemic change.
So, what does this mean for you, nursing that feeling of political burnout? It means recognising that the cage has no bars, and that you are not alone. The first step is internal: stop seeing politics as something done to you. But the most vital step is external. The energy fuelling this entire strategy isn’t coming from focus groups; it’s coming from people like you. When you join this movement, you aren’t just adding your name to a list. You are the fuel. You are the hands that help lay the foundations in Phase One, the voice that inspires the conversation in Phase Two, and the engine for the breakthrough that will make the old politics obsolete.
An election manifesto is a promise, a plan, a road map to a better world. The seductive whisper that everything can be fixed, and simply. That a broken Britain can be made whole again with a dose of “common sense.” Reform UK has mastered this promise, presenting a vision of slashed taxes and booming growth. But when you pull back the curtain on the grand pronouncements, you don’t find a politics of hope. You find the ghost of failed ideas, a familiar, punishing script of austerity and trickle-down economics designed to benefit the few at the devastating expense of the many.
So, let’s talk about the price tag on this promise. To fund their carnival of tax cuts, Reform plans to find £150 billion in annual savings. A key part of this involves slashing £50 billion from what they call government “waste.” It sounds painless, like trimming the hedges. But the Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS), a group not known for hyperbole, warns this would “almost certainly require substantial cuts to the quantity or quality of public services.” This isn’t trimming fat; it’s amputating limbs. It’s the sound of your local library closing, the GP appointment you can’t get, the pothole that never gets filled. This is the quiet, grinding misery of austerity, and they are planning it on a scale that would make George Osborne blush.
But where is all that money going? While our public services are starved, Reform intends to cut corporation tax and practically abolish inheritance tax for all but the wealthiest estates. This is the tired, old magic trick of trickle-down economics: the belief that if you shower money on the richest, some of it will eventually splash down onto the rest of us. Yet we’ve seen this show before, and we know how it ends. The IPPR think tank crunched the numbers and found the wealthiest households would gain enormously, while the poorest gain next to nothing. It’s not a rising tide lifting all boats; it’s ordering another bottle of champagne for the super-yacht while puncturing the life rafts.
Frankly, this isn’t just a cruel vision for Britain; it’s fantasy economics. The architects of this plan are building a house on foundations of pure wishful thinking. The IFS has stated bluntly that “the sums in this manifesto do not add up,” labelling the entire package “problematic.” They calculate that the proposed tax cuts would cost tens of billions more than Reform claims, while the savings are wildly optimistic. This isn’t a serious plan for government. It’s a fiscal implosion waiting to happen, a reckless gamble where the chips are our public services and the futures of millions.
To see this plan for what it is—a politics of exploitation masquerading as hope—is the first act of defence. But understanding the deception isn’t enough. The most powerful response isn’t to despair, but to build. The true antidote to a politics that seeks to divide and dismantle is the patient, unglamorous work of shoring up our communities. It means looking up from our screens, talking to our neighbours, and strengthening the bonds that this ideology needs us to forget we have.
So, what’s the path forward? It begins with reclaiming your own agency. Start by practicing some informational hygiene; read past the headlines and question the easy promises. But then, take that awareness outside. Find the most boring-sounding local committee you can and join it. A library support group, a park watch, a tenants’ association. This is the real work. It’s the levy that shores up the flood defences. Because when they come with their politics of misery, they will find that the fabric of our communities is far stronger, more resilient, and more hopeful than their cynical calculations could ever imagine.
And for those of you who like facts here’s the data:
Reform UK’s Economic Blueprint: A Politics of Misery Masked as Hope
Central Premise: Reform UK’s economic proposals, centred on sweeping tax cuts and contentious spending reductions, represent not a politics of hope, but a thinly veiled return to austerity and trickle-down economics that favours the wealthy at the expense of public services and the vulnerable.
In the contemporary British political landscape, Reform UK has positioned itself as a radical alternative, promising to slash waste, cut taxes, and unlock economic growth.[1] However, a closer examination of their 2024 manifesto and subsequent policy announcements reveals a framework built on familiar, and many argue failed, economic ideologies. The party’s platform, which proposes massive tax cuts funded by equally large spending reductions, has been flagged by economic experts as “financially unrealistic” and reliant on “extremely optimistic assumptions.”[2][3][4] This analysis suggests that behind the rhetoric of hope lies a program of deep austerity and trickle-down economics, threatening the very fabric of public services and social support systems.
The Austerity Agenda: Deep and Unspecified Cuts
Reform UK’s fiscal plan is predicated on achieving £150 billion in annual savings to fund nearly £90 billion in tax cuts and £50 billion in spending increases.[5] A significant portion of these savings, £50 billion to be exact, is expected to come from cutting “wasteful” spending across government departments.[5][6] However, the Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) has warned that saving such a substantial sum would “almost certainly require substantial cuts to the quantity or quality of public services” and go far beyond a simple crackdown on waste.[5][7]
This approach is characteristic of austerity, where broad, often unspecified, cuts to public expenditure are implemented to reduce the budget deficit, frequently impacting frontline services. The IFS has stated that Reform UK is proposing a “very different vision for the role of government,” one that involves “much lower taxes, paid for with large, unspecified cuts to public services.”[7] This raises serious concerns about the future of essential services that citizens rely on.
Further austerity-aligned policies include the proposed £30 billion annual saving from scrapping net-zero commitments and green energy subsidies.[8] While presented as a measure to reduce household bills, this move would dismantle long-term environmental strategies and could have far-reaching economic and environmental consequences. Similarly, a planned £15 billion cut to the welfare bill is aimed at getting people “back to work,” a common refrain in austerity narratives that often overlooks the complex reasons for unemployment and economic inactivity.
Trickle-Down Economics: Benefiting the Few, Not the Many
At the heart of Reform UK’s economic strategy is a series of tax cuts that disproportionately benefit businesses and high earners, a hallmark of trickle-down economics. The theory posits that reducing the tax burden on the wealthy and corporations will stimulate investment, create jobs, and ultimately benefit everyone. However, historical evidence and economic studies have repeatedly challenged this notion, showing that such policies often exacerbate income inequality without delivering significant economic growth.[9][10]
Key proposals from Reform UK include reducing the main corporation tax rate from 25% to 15% and abolishing inheritance tax for estates under £2 million.[11][12] The IFS has noted that the costing for the corporation tax cut is less than half of what official estimates suggest the long-run cost would be.[5] These measures, along with plans to raise the income tax personal allowance to £20,000, would indeed leave more money in some pockets.[11] However, analysis from the IPPR think tank indicates that the wealthiest fifth of households would gain significantly more from these changes than the poorest 20%.[13]
This approach has been criticized as a “right-wing, free-market libertarian playbook” that would do little to help the working-class families Reform claims to champion, while providing a substantial boost to the super-rich.[13] Critics argue that this focus on top-end tax cuts ignores the immediate needs of a population grappling with a cost of living crisis and struggling public services.[14]
Unrealistic Projections and a “Problematic” Package
The feasibility of Reform UK’s entire economic plan has been called into question by leading economic analysts. The IFS has bluntly stated that “the sums in this manifesto do not add up,” describing the package as “problematic.”[3][5] They project that the proposed tax cuts would cost “tens of billions of pounds a year more” than Reform anticipates, while the spending reductions would save less than stated.[3][5]
This significant fiscal gap suggests that, if implemented, Reform UK’s policies would either lead to a massive increase in government borrowing, a move that could destabilize the economy, or necessitate even deeper cuts to public services than currently admitted. The party’s rejection of criticism, with leader Nigel Farage describing the proposals as “outside the box,” does little to inspire confidence in their fiscal credibility.[3]
The Politics of Misery
By cloaking austerity and trickle-down economics in the language of “common sense” and “hope,” Reform UK presents a vision that, upon closer inspection, threatens to entrench inequality and dismantle the public sphere. Their proposals rely on unrealistic savings to fund tax cuts for the wealthy, a formula that has historically led to underfunded public services and a fraying social safety net.[15]
This is not a politics of hope for the average worker, the pensioner, or the family reliant on the NHS. It is a politics of exploitation and misery, where the burden of fiscal adjustment falls on the shoulders of the many, while the benefits flow to the few. The promise of a revitalized Britain, freed from the shackles of high taxes and “wasteful” spending, is a seductive one. However, the reality of Reform UK’s economic agenda is a future of diminished public services and widened social divisions.
Modern authoritarianism has evolved. No longer solely reliant on the brute force of the 20th century, a new model of control has emerged: informational autocracy. This contemporary form of rule prioritises the sophisticated management of information flows over overt repression, manufacturing legitimacy by curating a reality where the regime is competent and opposition is illegitimate. While these autocrats maintain the façade of democracy through managed elections and hollowed-out institutions, their true power lies in dominating the narrative. In this digital age, social media platforms have become the principal arena and accelerator for this strategy, fundamentally transforming the complex relationship between the state, a knowledgeable “informed elite,” and the general populace. Social media acts as both a tool of co-optation and a vector for chaos, enabling autocrats to silence dissent while exporting tactics that actively erode democratic foundations worldwide.
At the heart of informational autocracy lies the strategic management of the “informed elite”—a segment of society comprising intellectuals, journalists, and professionals who possess the critical capacity to recognise and expose the regime’s flaws. Traditionally, this group poses the greatest threat to authoritarian stability, and social media presents a dual-edged sword for their neutralisation. On one edge, platforms like X (formerly Twitter), Facebook, and WeChat serve as tools for surveillance and control, allowing regimes to monitor the elite’s online activities, identify dissenters for targeted repression, and deploy subtle censorship through algorithmic demotion or shadow-banning. On the other, these same platforms are used for co-optation, recruiting influential figures to amplify state-approved narratives and lending a veneer of credibility to propaganda. In Turkey and Hungary, for instance, allied influencers and troll farms are leveraged to dominate online discourse, effectively turning a portion of the informed elite into digital mouthpieces for the state.
This capacity for control, however, is not absolute. The democratising nature of social media simultaneously threatens to disrupt the informational asymmetry that autocrats depend on. By allowing information to bypass state-controlled media, these platforms can potentially expand the informed elite, making it too large to co-opt or silence entirely. This forces regimes to intensify their grip on the broader information ecosystem, often through outright media monopolisation. This tension reveals the core paradox for modern authoritarians: the very platforms that offer unprecedented control also carry the seeds of their potential undoing. They fracture the elite’s traditional role as gatekeepers of information while simultaneously empowering grassroots dissent.
The very architecture of social media is uniquely suited to advancing the goals of informational autocracy. Platforms’ business models, predicated on maximising engagement, inadvertently favour the sensational, divisive, and emotionally charged content on which autocrats thrive. Algorithms designed for virality rather than veracity create echo chambers that reinforce regime propaganda and shield citizens from dissenting views. This allows rulers to “flood the zone” with disinformation, blurring the lines between fact and fiction until the public becomes cynical and disengaged. False political narratives, as studies have shown, spread significantly faster than truth, creating a “post-truth” environment where objective reality is secondary to partisan identity. This systematic degradation of trust in institutions—from the media to the electoral process—is not merely a byproduct of social media; it is a central objective of informational autocracy, and platforms provide the most efficient means to achieve it.
Perhaps most insidiously, the tactics of informational autocracy are no longer confined to authoritarian states. Social media has created a borderless information environment where these strategies are exported globally, seeping into and poisoning democratic societies. Autocrats have learned to weaponise the very freedoms that define democracies, using the openness of platforms to interfere in elections, amplify social divisions, and discredit liberal values as chaotic and weak. State-backed actors from Russia and China have perfected the art of cross-border disinformation, creating what can be seen as a “disinfo axis” that coordinates to undermine democratic solidarity on the world stage. In response, threatened democracies may find themselves adopting autocratic tools—such as increased censorship or surveillance—to combat these hybrid threats, risking an erosion of the very principles they seek to protect. This global spillover normalises autocratic practices and accelerates a worldwide trend of democratic backsliding.
In conclusion, informational autocracy represents a pernicious and adaptable evolution of authoritarian rule, and social media serves as its central nervous system. These platforms have revolutionised the autocrat’s toolkit, enabling a subtle yet pervasive form of control built on narrative dominance rather than physical coercion. By transforming the role of the informed elite into a dynamic contest of control and resistance, and by leveraging algorithms that prioritise engagement over truth, social media directly fuels the erosion of public trust and institutional legitimacy. This model is no longer a distant threat but a clear and present danger to established democracies, which now face an onslaught of digitally-native autocratic tactics designed to turn their own open systems against them. The struggle for the future of democracy is therefore inextricably linked to the battle for the digital public square, demanding a new focus on platform accountability, digital literacy, and the cultivation of an “info hygiene” resilient enough to withstand this slow-acting poison.
The alt-right’s online dominance stems from savvy, adaptive tactics that exploit platform algorithms, human psychology, and cultural voids, turning fringe ideas into mainstream forces through emotional resonance and community building. While the left should never mimic their toxic elements (e.g., hate, disinformation), there’s value in borrowing structural and strategic tools to counter far-right gains and rebuild progressive momentum.
Drawing from 2025 analyses, the key is ethical adaptation: Focus on hope, facts, and inclusivity to create “alt-left pipelines” that radicalise toward justice, highlight economic inequality not racial division.
Below are transferable lessons with deployment ideas tailored for a progressive agenda.
1. Build a Multi-Voice “Roster” for Narrative Dominance (The WWF Model)
Lesson from Alt-Right: They succeed via a diverse “ecosystem” of creators—intellectuals, meme-makers, podcasters—who cross-promote, feud playfully, and create social immersion, making ideas feel organic and inescapable (e.g., from Jordan Peterson to Nick Fuentes). This multiplicity normalises extremism, as one voice becomes a chorus.
Action Point: Create a “Red-Green roster” of 20-50 voices (e.g., eco-activists, union organisers, TikTok storytellers) focused on inequality/climate. Use X Spaces for collaborative “story arcs” (e.g., debates on wealth taxes) and Patreon-funded collabs to foster community. Aim for viral, relatable formats like short explainers on “why your rent doubled.” In 2025, leverage decentralised platforms to evade moderation while building loyalty.
2. Craft Gradual “Pipelines” for Positive Radicalisation
Lesson from Alt-Right: Their pipeline hooks users with benign frustrations (e.g., “woke overreach”) then escalates via algorithms to echo chambers, blending humour and validation to build commitment. This self-radicalises without overt pushes.
Action Point: Design an “alt-left pipeline” starting with empowering content (e.g., TikToks on “union wins” or “free college stories”) that funnels to deeper dives (e.g., podcasts on systemic racism). Use AI tools ethically for personalised recommendations, targeting disillusioned centrists with “hope hooks” like community success tales. Avoid outrage; emphasise “business offers” (e.g., “Join for better wages”). A 2025 survey shows this could sway working-class voters by addressing alienation head-on.
3. Weaponise Memes, Humour, and Emotional Storytelling
Lesson from Alt-Right: Irony, memes, and outrage farming (e.g., baiting replies for algorithmic boosts) create addictive engagement, polarising while evading bans. They tap anger over issues like immigration but dilute for broad appeal.
Action Point: Flood platforms with joyful, subversive memes (e.g., “Billionaires vs. Your Rent” cartoons) and emotional narratives (e.g., worker strike videos with uplifting arcs). Use X for “provocative but substantive” threads that provoke right-wing overreactions, then amplify the absurdity to highlight hypocrisy. Focus on “politics of substance” like cultural symbols of solidarity (e.g., union anthems remixed). In 2025, prioritise TikTok/Reels for Gen Z, where emotionally charged content drives 2x engagement.
4. Invest in Local Organising and Power-Building Networks
Lesson from Alt-Right: Online tactics feed offline infrastructure (e.g., rallies channelling frustration into loyalty), absorbing dissent via co-optation and purges. They build from the ground up, turning digital anger into real power.
Action Point: Mirror this by linking online campaigns to local “power rosters” (e.g., neighborhood groups for mutual aid). Use X/Discord for one-on-one recruitment: “What matters to you? Let’s organize.” Channel energy into sustained wins like tenant unions, not just viral moments. 2025 reports stress matching right-wing billionaire media with grassroots funding for community hubs. Avoid Alinsky-style baiting; instead, “grey rock” trolls with factual redirects.
5. Pursue Long-Term Institutional Capture and Patience
Lesson from Alt-Right: They play the “long game” (e.g., infiltrating education/media over decades), using feigned ignorance to waste opponents’ time and normalise via backlash. Short-term wins (e.g., elections) are secondary to cultural entrenchment.
Action Point: Shift from reactive “debates” to proactive institution-building (e.g., progressive media co-ops, school boards). Use “inb4” preemptive framing (e.g., “Before you ask about taxes, here’s how billionaires dodge them”) to control narratives. In 2025, amid platform toxicity, decentralise to Bluesky/Mastodon for safe scaling. Measure success by sustained engagement, not viral spikes.
Ethical Guardrails and Risks
Adaptations must prioritise anti-hate safeguards e.g., community guidelines against doxxing and fact-checking to avoid disinformation pitfalls. Risks include internal purges or echo-chamber toxicity, as seen in past left online spaces.
The goal: Turn alt-right “tactics of scarcity” into left abundance—building power through solidarity, not division. As one 2025 analysis notes, the left’s edge is substance; deploy these tools to make it viral.
Quentin Budworth 