For more than two decades, Nigel Farage could rely on one thing above almost everything else: sympathetic treatment from large sections of Britain’s right-wing press.
Whether campaigning to leave the European Union through UKIP, leading the Brexit Party or reinventing himself as the figurehead of Reform UK, Farage benefited from newspapers that amplified his message, attacked his opponents and portrayed him as the authentic voice of ordinary voters.
That relationship is now showing unmistakable signs of breaking down.
In the space of just a few weeks, newspapers that once championed Farage have begun asking uncomfortable questions about his finances, his judgement and his political future. Editors who previously helped build his profile are now openly criticising him. Veteran conservative commentators are questioning whether the movement he created is already running out of steam.
For a politician whose success has depended heavily on dominating headlines, this represents far more than a bad news cycle. It is a warning that his political brand may be losing its appeal among some of its most influential supporters.
The catalyst has been a series of damaging stories examining Reform UK’s finances and Farage’s personal affairs. Instead of calmly rebutting the reporting, Farage reportedly launched into an angry confrontation with The Times editor Tony Gallagher after learning the newspaper intended to publish a story about his property interests. According to reports, the exchange became heated, with Farage arguing that publication endangered his family. The Times rejected that suggestion and stood firmly behind its journalism.
It was a familiar response.
Rather than addressing criticism head-on, Farage increasingly appears to be adopting a strategy perfected by Donald Trump: attack the journalists, question their motives and portray every uncomfortable story as evidence of a coordinated establishment conspiracy.
The language is almost interchangeable.
The “establishment”. The “mainstream media”. The elites. The conspiracy against the people.
It is a political script that has become central to Trump’s success in the United States. Whenever scrutiny intensifies, the messenger becomes the target.
According to one senior newspaper editor quoted in reports, Farage’s approach is “straight out of Trump world”—demonise the media, energise loyal supporters and encourage distrust of mainstream journalism.
That strategy may energise Reform’s core supporters, but it carries enormous risks.
Britain’s conservative newspapers have historically acted as kingmakers on the political right. While their influence is no longer what it was during the Thatcher or Blair years, they remain hugely important in shaping political narratives, influencing donors and setting the agenda for millions of readers.
Alienating those newspapers is not a sign of political strength. It is an act of extraordinary political recklessness.
The evidence of the changing mood is becoming impossible to ignore.
The Daily Telegraph has increasingly questioned Reform’s electoral strategy while giving space to Conservative figures attacking Farage’s collection of former Tory MPs.
The Daily Mail has acknowledged that Reform’s political momentum has slowed dramatically, pointing to electoral setbacks and renewed scrutiny over Farage’s financial affairs.
Most strikingly of all, Trevor Kavanagh, one of the most respected voices in conservative journalism and a longstanding admirer of Brexit, delivered what amounted to a political obituary, writing that Britain was witnessing “the sudden death” of the movement that began as UKIP before becoming the Brexit Party and eventually Reform UK.
When commentators who helped legitimise Farage begin writing his political epitaph, something significant has changed.
Perhaps even more surprising was Farage’s apparent willingness to raise the prospect of reviving aspects of the Leveson Inquiry into press regulation after falling out with sections of the media.
For years, politicians on the political right condemned Leveson as a threat to press freedom. Now Farage appears prepared to invoke it when newspapers publish stories he dislikes.
Critics will inevitably ask whether this reflects a troubling double standard: freedom of the press is welcome when newspapers support you, but less welcome when they scrutinise you.
This is where the Trump comparison becomes especially uncomfortable.
Trump has repeatedly portrayed critical journalism as fake news, accused media organisations of conspiring against him, and encouraged supporters to dismiss unwelcome reporting as politically motivated attacks. That strategy has created fierce loyalty among his base while deepening mistrust of independent journalism.
Farage appears to be travelling down a similar road.
The irony is striking. For years he portrayed himself as the anti-establishment outsider taking on Britain’s political elite. Now some of his sharpest critics are emerging not from the left but from the very newspapers that once promoted his campaigns.
Reform insists this simply proves that the establishment fears its growing popularity. Yet another interpretation is becoming increasingly difficult to dismiss.
Perhaps Britain’s conservative press has concluded that Farage is becoming less of a political asset and more of a political liability.
The insurgent who once disrupted British politics now risks becoming trapped by the same grievance politics that fuelled his rise. Every setback becomes someone else’s fault. Every investigation becomes evidence of bias. Every critical headline becomes another chapter in an imagined conspiracy.
That strategy may keep loyal supporters angry and engaged.
But if the right-wing newspapers that once made Nigel Farage one of Britain’s most influential politicians have finally begun to lose patience, he may discover that attacking the messenger is no substitute for answering the message.
