This week marks ten years since the murder of Labour MP Jo Cox, a shocking act of political violence that stunned Britain and prompted soul-searching about the growing toxicity of public debate. On 16 June 2016, just days before the Brexit referendum, Cox was shot and stabbed outside a constituency surgery in Birstall, West Yorkshire. She was 41 years old.
In the aftermath of her death, politicians from all parties pledged to lower the temperature of political discourse. Her husband, Brendan Cox, and supporters of the Jo Cox Foundation promoted a simple message drawn from one of her maiden speeches in Parliament: “We are far more united and have far more in common than that which divides us.”
A decade later, that aspiration feels more distant than ever.
Britain in 2026 is a country deeply divided along political, cultural and social lines. The Brexit referendum that took place just days after Cox’s murder exposed fractures that have never fully healed. Arguments over immigration, national identity, race, religion, globalisation and Britain’s place in the world continue to dominate public discussion, often generating more heat than light.
One of the most troubling developments of the past decade has been the growth of ignorance and misinformation within public debate. Complex issues are increasingly reduced to simplistic slogans and social media soundbites. Many people now consume news and information from sources that reinforce their existing beliefs, creating echo chambers where myths and half-truths can flourish unchecked.
The rise of misinformation has made it easier for false narratives to spread and harder for facts to gain traction. Whether the subject is immigration, crime, climate change, public health or international affairs, misleading claims often travel faster than careful analysis. In many cases, people are encouraged to fear groups they rarely encounter in everyday life or blame vulnerable minorities for problems that have far more complicated causes.
Ignorance alone is not responsible for division, but it creates fertile ground for those who seek to exploit public anxieties. Throughout history, extremists have relied upon misinformation, scapegoating and fear to build support. The digital age has given such tactics unprecedented reach. Social media algorithms frequently reward outrage and emotional reactions, helping divisive content spread rapidly.
Political debate has become increasingly tribal as a result. Opponents are often portrayed not as people with different opinions but as enemies who must be defeated. Nuance and compromise are dismissed as weakness, while anger is celebrated as authenticity. The consequences can be seen in the abuse directed at politicians, journalists, campaigners and ordinary members of the public.
The consequences are not confined to the internet. Britain has witnessed the murders of two MPs in the last decade, with Jo Cox followed by Conservative MP Sir David Amess in 2021. Security measures around elected representatives have increased significantly, reflecting concerns about threats from extremists and politically motivated individuals.
Economic insecurity has also fuelled tensions. Years of austerity, stagnant wages, housing pressures and the cost-of-living crisis have left many people frustrated and distrustful of institutions. Those frustrations are real, but they are too often channelled towards convenient targets rather than the underlying causes of social and economic problems.
Political parties and sections of the media have rarely helped. Across the political spectrum there has often been a temptation to prioritise outrage over understanding and division over consensus. Fear can be an effective political tool, but it rarely solves the problems it highlights.
Yet the story of the last ten years is not solely one of decline. Across Britain, countless organisations and community groups continue to bring people together. They demonstrate that cooperation remains possible despite political differences and that most people still want safe, thriving communities.
Remembering Jo Cox should not simply be about reflecting on a tragic event from the past. It should also be about recognising the dangers posed by hatred, misinformation and ignorance. Her belief that people have more in common than divides them may sound unfashionable in an age of polarisation, but it remains as relevant today as it was ten years ago.
Ten years after her murder, the hate divide in Britain is undeniably larger than many hoped it would be. Bridging that divide will require more than condemning extremism when it appears. It will require a renewed commitment to critical thinking, honest debate, reliable information and a willingness to see fellow citizens as neighbours rather than enemies. Without that effort, the lessons of Jo Cox’s death will be forgotten.
