Of course, not every Reform UK voter literally failed at school. Many are intelligent, hardworking people with a deep sense of patriotism and a sharp intuition for when something feels unfair. But many were failed by something very much like school: by a political and economic system that has systematically marginalised them, insulted their intelligence, and deprived them of both agency and hope.
To understand the appeal of Reform UK, we have to look far beyond its simplistic talking points. We must examine the deeper conditions that produce this kind of political phenomenon and the wider failures of the globalised liberal order that allowed it to thrive.
A Political Class in Contempt of the Public
In modern Britain, as in much of the West, politics has become less a matter of democracy and more a matter of management. Decisions affecting millions are no longer made in genuine public debate or consultation but behind closed doors, in elite conferences, corporate boardrooms, and private meetings with lobbyists.
Globalisation, while bringing many benefits to some, has simultaneously hollowed out the democratic authority of the state. Sovereignty is now shared, or, more accurately, surrendered, to multinational corporations, trade blocs, and financial institutions. Politicians, rather than acting as public servants, increasingly behave like brand managers for neoliberal orthodoxy, selling cuts to services as “efficiency” or market deregulation as “freedom.”
This is a global trend, but it has a particularly sharp edge in Britain, where Thatcherism never truly died and where Tony Blair’s New Labour doubled down on market logic. Public services have been slowly dismantled, education has been commodified, and social housing all but eradicated. Successive governments have, in effect, ruled against the interests of the majority while pretending to represent them.
In this context, the average voter feels not merely ignored, but betrayed. And betrayal breeds anger.
The Collapse of Trust
It’s easy to forget just how many promises have been broken in recent British political history. In 2010, David Cameron promised stability and growth; he delivered austerity and social division. In 2016, the Leave campaign promised money for the NHS and a stronger Britain; the result was economic turmoil and a drawn-out culture war. Boris Johnson pledged to “get Brexit done” and invest in the North, but he left behind a legacy of scandal and cronyism.
Each betrayal chips away at trust. Each lie fuels the belief that no one in Westminster is worth listening to. And while this disillusionment could, in theory, be channelled into constructive democratic engagement, the reality is that the system works to ensure that it isn’t.
Where Is the Left?
There is no shortage of appetite in the UK for a genuinely transformative political platform. Polling has consistently shown that large majorities support public ownership of rail, energy, and water; stronger environmental protections; higher taxes on the wealthy; and a real living wage. But parties that propose such measures are almost always marginalised.
The Labour Party, under Jeremy Corbyn, was an exception and the reaction to that exception was ferocious. From the moment he became leader, Corbyn was met with a relentless campaign of character assassination, not only from the right-wing press but also from many within his own party. Accusations of incompetence, extremism, and even bigotry were weaponised to discredit a political movement that sought to put people before profit.
When Labour lost in 2019, the lesson drawn by the political class was not that Britain rejected left-wing policies, but that it had rejected left-wing politics altogether. What followed was a purge of the party’s socialist elements and a rapid return to managerial centrism under Keir Starmer.
In other words, the establishment got the left-wing threat under control. But the anger didn’t disappear, it simply found a new outlet.
The Illusion of Anti-Establishment Politics
Reform UK capitalises on this void. It presents itself as the outsider, the maverick, the truth-teller in a sea of lies. Its rhetoric is designed to provoke and polarise: blame immigrants, blame woke culture, blame net zero. It performs rebellion while reinforcing the same economic structures that created the crisis in the first place.
Make no mistake: Reform UK is no threat to the establishment. It is a pressure valve. It offers a form of protest that is loud but harmless, at least to those in power. It channels working-class frustration into cultural grievances rather than economic justice. It turns understandable resentment into misguided nationalism.
This is not new. Far-right and hard-right movements across Europe and the US have followed a similar formula. They present themselves as defenders of the people while being bankrolled by hedge fund managers and real estate billionaires. They oppose “elites” in the abstract but serve the interests of the wealthy in practice.
Reform UK’s policy platform, such as it is, makes this clear. They favour flat taxes, cuts to regulation, privatisation of services, and punitive welfare reform. These are not revolutionary ideas. They are the same tired neoliberal dogmas that have failed ordinary people for forty years.
Why People Buy the Lie
If the promises are empty, why do people fall for them? Because when you’re drowning, even a plank of wood looks like a rescue boat. Reform UK, for all its contradictions, offers something the mainstream parties do not: the illusion of radical change.
Moreover, it speaks in a language people understand. While Labour and the Conservatives bury their intentions in technocratic jargon, Reform UK deals in blunt, emotive statements: “Stop the boats,” “Cut taxes,” and “Protect our borders.” It may be simplistic, but it resonates. People are not looking for complexity; they’re looking for someone who seems to get it.
And let’s be honest, much of the electorate did have a poor experience of formal education. This is not a slur on their intelligence but a commentary on how the education system itself has failed. Schools are underfunded, teachers are overstretched, and critical thinking is de-emphasised in favour of rote learning and exam scores. For many, school was not a place of empowerment but of frustration. It did not prepare them to navigate the complex machinery of modern politics; it left them feeling inadequate, unheard, and angry.
In this light, voting Reform UK is not a stupid act; it is a desperate one. A cry for help dressed up as defiance.
The Role of the Media
The media plays a crucial role in shaping the boundaries of acceptable politics. Mainstream outlets, even those nominally on the left, have repeatedly amplified right-wing talking points while marginalising alternative perspectives.
The BBC, in its pursuit of “balance,” often presents far-right populists as equivalent to progressive campaigners, reinforcing the idea that extremes exist only at the fringes. Meanwhile, newspapers owned by billionaires pump out a daily diet of fear, division, and moral panic. The Overton window is carefully policed. Reform UK fits neatly within it. A socialist resurgence does not.
This creates a political culture where it is easier to imagine total societal collapse than to imagine, say, free university education or the nationalisation of energy companies.
What Comes Next?
The danger is that Reform UK and parties like it will continue to grow, not because they offer real solutions, but because they’re the only voices allowed to speak loudly. As long as left-wing alternatives are smothered by the political and media establishment, people will reach for whatever is available.
The tragedy is that there is another way. A politics of solidarity, cooperation, and economic justice is not only possible, it is necessary. But it will not emerge by accident. It will require rebuilding political literacy, rekindling community institutions, and demanding space for genuine alternatives.
This starts with education, not just in schools, but across society. People must be empowered to understand the forces shaping their lives, to distinguish between real change and performative outrage, and to recognise the difference between rebellion and reaction.
Until then, Reform UK will remain attractive not because it tells the truth, but because it fills a silence left by everyone else.
Conclusion
The people who vote for Reform UK did not fail at school. They were failed by a society that treated education as a commodity, politics as theatre, and democracy as an inconvenience. They have been left to fend for themselves in a country that once promised them more.
They deserve better than Nigel Farage’s pub-banter populism. They deserve real choices, real hope, and a real future.
But they will only get it if we challenge the structures that keep it from them. And that means moving beyond the illusion of anti-establishment politics and building the real thing.
