The views expressed are solely my own and do not represent the official position of YEI, a nonpartisan think tank that provides a platform for its researchers to share independent perspectives.
Since the emergence of democratic systems, political figures have frequently discovered that the most efficient approach to garner widespread electoral backing involves asserting their role as representatives of the “common man” in opposition to an aloof, self-interested elite. This communicative tactic-portraying politics as a confrontation between the principled populace and a corrupt establishment-is termed populism. It condenses intricate political and economic matters into a dichotomous struggle, frequently converting anger and disenchantment into political leverage.
In recent academic literature, populism has been positively identified with right-wing, anti-immigrant discourse. Such oratory appeals to segments of the mass of the population that have been left behind as a consequence of globalisation, technological change, and declining standards of life. It must be emphasised, nonetheless, that populism does not have a natural rightward bent. Indeed, its earlier incarnation in the West as a whole is predominantly leftward. America’s Populist Party (1891–1908), which was established in Cincinnati, owed its origins to rural agitation such as the Farmers’ Alliance. It was grounded in the argument that government must be responsive to the will of common folks-especially rural labourers-in defiance of entrenched political and financial interests. Their policy package contained calls for public ownership of railways, a graduated income tax, and senatorial election by direct ballot, each of which (by definition) was radical. Though the emotional appeal of populism has not been transformed-closing ranks against “the elite” in favour of “the people” -the policy package of contemporary right-wing populist movements has taken a profoundly different form from these preceding leftward ideals.
In the UK, right-wing populists have been characteristically represented in the form of individuals like Nigel Farage and Tommy Robinson, whose real name is Stephen Yaxley-Lennon. Both have been instrumental in shaping the populist discourse in Britain in the 21st century. In 2009, Robinson formed the English Defence League (EDL), a movement that aimed to unify football hooligan groups with the agenda of challenging Islamic extremism. However, the conduct and language of the EDL quickly revealed a more universal hostility toward Muslims as a religion. Robinson has himself issued inflammatory statements, including a demand for the deportation of “every adult male Muslim that has come into the EU” [1] and referring to Muslim children as “time bombs” [2]. Such de-humanising remarks demonstrate an understanding in which Islam moves beyond the definition of being a religion to being seen as a civilizational threat.
Nigel Farage, although more comfortable in mainstream politics, has still produced divisive rhetoric. Reports from his days in school indicate that he chanted Nazi hymns in the Sussex counrtyside [3], and in a 2018 interview with Tommy Robinson, he stated that Muslims “loath” [4] British values. While Farage and Robinson vary in tone and forum, they are bound together in supporter base that holds a level of strong skepticism towards immigration and multiculturalism. Their rhetoric often blames Muslims and immigrants for issues ranging from crime to a shortage of housing, despite evidence to the contrary. This scapegoating demonstrates a larger pattern in British political discourse, in which complex structural challenges are distilled to a form that blames designated marginal groups.
One of the discourse’s key focus’ lies in immigration. All the same, the economic realities provide a contrary account. Most immigrants are among the working-age demographic [5], which indicates their function in complementing the manpower and mitigating the dependency ratio in an aging demographic. Against the claim that immigrants “steal jobs,” they are actually more prone to take low-paying, labor-intensive jobs that many native-born citizens are averse to performing. Between the years 2000 and 2011, the level of taxes that immigrants have contributed to the UK economy has been a net gain of £20 billion [6], and they have a much higher tendency to engage in entrepreneurial activity, thus creating jobs and reviving local economies [7]. Lastly, immigrants are 45% less likely to be in receipt of benefits than are citizens who are UK-born [8], thus further undermining the characterization of immigrants as a drain on public coffers.
Notwithstanding these contributions, the sentiment against immigrants continues to wield significant political influence. Farage, for example, has asserted that “the country is full” [9], a statement that strikes a chord with individuals facing housing instability and escalating living expenses. On its face, this assertion seems to embody genuine pressures: the housing market in the UK is undergoing a crisis, with rents increasing by 8.7% annually [10]. Nevertheless, assigning sole responsibility for this crisis to immigration overlooks more profound structural factors—most notably, wealth inequality and the accumulation of assets by the extremely affluent.
The bottom 50% of UK households own just 9% of the nation’s wealth [11], while globally, the top 1% controls 43% [12]. This extreme concentration of wealth allows a small elite to dominate the housing market, driving up prices and reducing affordability. Many of these individuals treat property not as shelter but as an investment vehicle, leaving homes empty or using them to extract rent from those with no alternative. This dynamic inflates asset prices and exacerbates inequality, making it increasingly difficult for younger and lower-income individuals to access stable housing.
Here, populist discourses which blame the housing shortage on immigrants serve a strategic function for the ultra-wealthy. By deflecting outrage from landlords, developers, or policymakers to migrants, these discourses deflect attention from the root causes of inequality. Such a strategy was laid bare when, during the “Unite the Kingdom” march of 13/8/25, Elon Musk spoke to a crowd of aggrieved citizens and said, “we either fight back or die” [13]. Such discourse, beneath its guise of revolution, serves finally to reinforce the status quo, deflecting discontent from much-needed systemic change to scapegoats. This way, populist rulers protect the interests of high-income elites, many of whom are opposed to redistributive policies, including wealth taxes proposed by men like Gary Stevenson and Zack Polanski. Exacerbating cultural conflict and stoking economic resentment, they maintain a political environment in which structural inequality remains unchecked.
[1] https://hopenothate.org.uk/2017/05/22/tommy-robinson-far-right-islamophobic-extremist/
[4] https://www.tiktok.com/@skynews/video/7373260087181298976?lang=en
[5] https://migrationobservatory.ox.ac.uk/resources/briefings/migrants-in-the-uk-an-overview/
[6] https://www.ucl.ac.uk/impact/case-studies/2022/apr/evidence-proves-true-effect-immigration-uk?
[7] https://www.davidsonmorris.com/immigrants-economic-contributions/?
[8] https://www.ucl.ac.uk/impact/case-studies/2022/apr/evidence-proves-true-effect-immigration-uk?
[9] https://www.gbnews.com/politics/nigel-farage-plan-migrant-crisis-hailed-britain-full?
[10] https://www.newstoday.co.uk/2025/05/the-uk-housing-market-in-2025-a-crisis-of-demand-and-supply/?
[11] https://moneymarshmallow.com/top-1-percent-net-worth-uk/?
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