Following Tommy Robinson’s for contempt of court, the #FreeTommy campaign demonstrated just how much the British radical right has changed in a short space of time. It has transformed Robinson into a truly global figure, a purported martyr for the dispossessed and the most influential radical-right leader in Britain since Sir Oswald Mosley.

First of all, Robinson has a significant transnational following – particularly in Trump’s America. This is perhaps the most surprising development of the #FreeTommy campaign. Robinson has transformed himself from essentially a local activist in Luton into a transatlantic radical-right ideologue. As many studies of interwar fascism and postwar radical-right politics have shown, developing international links (either with sympathetic states such as Italy or Germany in the 1930s or other like-minded far-right groups in Europe, North America and beyond) has been a familiar practice.

Yet no radical-right figure in Britain has had anything like the success Robinson has experienced over recent months. Support came from leading anti-Muslim politicians in Europe, such as Dutch radical-right leader Geert Wilders, but particularly from the United States. US Ambassador-at-Large for International Religious Freedom Sam Brownback, former White House chief strategist Steve Bannon and Republican Congressman Paul Gosar have all publicly expressed support for Robinson.

It is not just elite individuals within the radical-right community who support Robinson either. Findings from , reported in , recently demonstrated that “More than 630,000 have signed an online petition for Robinson to be freed, its international reach articulated by its translation into French, Spanish, Dutch, Italian, Polish, Czech and Russian.��Analysis��of signatories by Hope not Hate found only 68% came from the UK, while 35% of Twitter posts using a ‘Free Tommy’ hashtag analysed by the group came from the United States.”

Apolitical

Robinson is not seeking political office. Electoral politics has always proved extremely difficult for the radical right in Britain. The first-past-the-post electoral system is challenging for any small party, while radical-right leaders are notoriously volatile and have tended to struggle to work together. Parties that have achieved some success on this front in the UK — notably the National Front and more recently the British National Party (BNP) — were riven by disputes over ideological purity when appealing to the electorate. In turn, this has led to endless fallouts and breakaways. The disintegration of the BNP in 2011 as well as UK Independence Party’s more recent collapse means there is currently no credible challenger to the right of the Conservative Party.

Robinson is almost an apolitical figure insofar as he largely focuses on social and cultural issues such as the so-called Islamization of Britain, pedophilic grooming gangs and the dangers of political correctness. He does not concern himself with policy, electoral strategy or the need to cultivate any kind of party discipline. This is why we have seen recent radical-right activity focus on street marches and demonstrations — the political outlet for radical-right ideas has all but disappeared. This is a potentially dangerous development, for when the democratic political outlet is gone, the radical right it can express itself in more sinister ways such as public disorder, hate crimes against social and ethnic minorities and even acts of terrorism.

Working-Class “Martyr”

Far-right leaders in Britain have long believed themselves to represent the needs, voices and values of working-class Britons. Yet rarely have any significant figures on the radical right come from that background, let alone embrace a working-class hero role, to the same degree as Robinson. For instance, the interwar fascist Oswald Mosley was a knight of the realm as well as the heir to a mammoth aristocratic fortune. More recent leaders such as BNP founder John Tyndall and leader Nick Griffin have been staunchly middle class in both appearance and accent.

This may seem an arbitrary point to make (or perhaps even an irrelevant one given the success of silver-spoon radical-right politicians such as Nigel Farage and Donald Trump), but numerous studies of the English Defense League have emphasized the importance of activists’ sense of class identity (see Angry White People by Hsiao-Hung Pai and The Rise of the Right by Winlow, for example), alongside the fact that a significant proportion are unemployed or living in precarious economic circumstances with few opportunities. It therefore provides much-needed authenticity often absent from the radical right. It also bolsters the oft-repeated claim by Robinson and his followers that “we are not being listened to,” and that politics is governed by a small clique of distant elites out of touch with the masses. Tellingly, Steve Bannon crudely yelled off-camera, during a recent , indicting the show’s producer as well as Nigel Farage: “You guys hate Tommy Robinson. You hate him because he’s a working class guy. You’re one of these fucking elites that hate him.” In this view, he was probably expressing sentiment held by thousands of Robinson followers.

Social Media Savvy

The British radical right of all stripes has punched well above its weight online over the past decade. This became apparent recently, when US President Donald Trump retweeted false videos allegedly showing Muslim attacks on white people, which had been posted on Twitter by radical-right party Britain First. Prior to their ban, the party — banned from Twitter in 2017 and Facebook in 2018 for inciting animosity and hatred —��was able to achieve more likes than the Labour and Conservative Party’s Facebook platforms put together, despite achieving nothing electorally and attracting derisory numbers at their organized protests.

Tommy Robinson has a similarly disproportionate social media following. One video on his YouTube channel, showing him emotionally greeting his children upon returning home from prison, has been viewed nearly 500,000 times. Other videos posted by his former employers, Rebel Media, entitled “Tommy Robinson confronts another accused Muslim grooming gang,” reached an audience of 1.9 million; and “Tommy Robinson confronts Twitter troll” was viewed by another 2.3 million people.

His transatlantic social media following has been hugely influential in spreading messages to far-reaching corners of the globe, while also translating this into funding and street-based activism in a short space of time. (For example, 2,000 protestors turned up to the “Free Tommy” demonstration in London in July 2018.) The transnational radical right has been deft in using social media to spread its message and recruit followers, and this is perhaps best demonstrated by the internet phenomenon that Robinson has recently become.

Suitable Political Climate

This is perhaps the most dangerous development surrounding the #FreeTommy movement: Britain has become a country not just hospitable to radical-right ideas, but one in which they can thrive. Whilst this is a long-term development, as I , English Uprising: Brexit and the Mainstreaming of the Far Right, the normalization of radical-right ideas has palpably increased since the EU referendum. In recent weeks, for example, elite politicians such as Boris Johnson, who may well be Theresa May’s successor as prime minister, have been meeting with key figures in the global radical-right movement such as Steve Bannon and publicly disparaging Muslim women wearing face veils.

The tabloid media speak in aggressive terms about politicians and elites being “traitors” who are betraying ordinary Britons. The Conservative government has not sought to allay the public’s fears over immigration by arguing for its benefits, but instead made outsized promises about its impending cuts following Brexit. Even editorials in center-right magazines such as that “there is��not���Ա𲹰�������enough Islamophobia��within the Conservative Party,” while The Times has published of late such as “Our timid leaders can learn lessons from strongmen.”

The more politicians, media and writers use their influence to concede ground to the radical right, the more likely their ideas are to be accepted by the public and enter public policy debates. Should that happen, this could have devastating consequences for ethnic minorities, marginalized groups and those seen as “the enemy within.”

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Earlier this year, an intriguing lens was cast on the nature of radical and far-right ideas in post-Brexit Britain. At the center was a graphic tweeted by Leave.EU — the radical unofficial pro-Brexit group spearheaded by Nigel Farage and funded by Aaron Banks in the 2016 European Union referendum. The blared the title “Londonistan” above a picture of London’s Muslim mayor, Sadiq Khan, with the caption: “423 New Mosques, 500 Closed Churches, 100 Sharia Courts.”

The blatantly Islamophobic and factually baseless tweet (which clearly has nothing to do with the group’s raison d’etre of leaving the European Union), according to was “based on out-of-context sources and, importantly, give no sense of time span.” It came just days after Leave.EU sought to exploit the anti-Semitism row that has engulfed the Labour Party with another controversial message, stating that Labour’s failure to deal with anti-Semitism was due to it being “reliant on the votes of Britain’s exploding Muslim population.”

Leave.EU has come under increasing criticism by many for its output on social media, including Labour MP Wes Streeting (a Remainer) who commented that the Sadiq Khan tweet was “out and out racist politics” and that the group is “now a far-right organisation trying to stir up hatred and division between different communities.” Streeting is essentially correct. The group, which set out to campaign for Britain’s withdrawal from the EU, has morphed into a typical far-right organization regularly exhibiting anti-Muslim prejudice and xenophobia.

Of more interest, however, is that prominent Brexiteers criticized the recent actions of Leave.EU. Radio DJ Julia Hartley Brewer : “Dear @LeaveEUOfficial your tweets are doing a terrible disservice to Brexit voters. Your tweets are often crude, divisive and nasty. I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve but I’m pretty sure the British people don’t want it. Please stop.” Prominent political similarly argued that Leave.EU was “once again hurting [the] Brexit cause” and that “Leave.EU were not the official Leave campaign — they are, to coin a phrase, a fringe group who do not represent mainstream Brexiters.”

This is part of a wider attempt by Leavers to claim that Britain’s vote to withdraw from the European Union was nothing to do with bigotry or the growing appeal of far-right ideas in Britain —��a key argument made in my 2017 , English Uprising: Brexit and the Mainstreaming of the Far Right. Rather, as the likes of Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson and other Vote Leave — the official pro-Brexit group — dignitaries such as Michael Gove and Douglas Carswell have argued, Brexit was driven by voters wishing to engage more with an increasingly global and cosmopolitan world. In the , the vote to Leave was “not an angry nativist xenophobic vote” but “won precisely because it was an argument about Britain being open, internationalist, generous, and globalist.”

This is to almost wilfully misremember the EU referendum campaign. The Vote Leave, whilst more subtly than Leave.EU, utilized the tactics of Islamophobia, xenophobia and wilful distortion of facts all present within Leave.EU’s recent tweet. Posters claiming that Turkey’s accession to the EU was imminent and “Britain’s new border is with Syria and Iraq,” as well as their exploitation of the refugee crisis similarly sought to tap into the same fears used by the far right.

The Leave vote in 2016 was decades in the making and indicative of a growing skepticism toward immigration and multiculturalism that had been on the rise since at least the turn of the 21st century. There had been unprecedented support for the neo-fascist British National Party between 2002 and 2010, while the rise of the less extreme but anti-immigrant UK Independence Party (UKIP) reached its apogee in 2014 when it came in the UK’s European Parliament elections.

The decision to hold the referendum was motivated by then-Prime Minister David Cameron’s desire to appease hard-right backbenchers and win back Euroskeptic Conservative voters who had abandoned the party for UKIP. Opinion polls consistently placed immigration at the top of the list of issues facing the country, while just a week before the vote in June 2016, immigration overtook the economy to become the most important issue motivating would-be Brexit voters. In short, it is impossible to understand the Brexit vote and the political culture that has emerged in its wake without appreciating Britain’s lurch to the right.

There has been substantial debate since the referendum as to what Brexit actually means and represents. One of the less helpful analyses came from Prime Minister Theresa May when she proclaimed that “Brexit means Brexit.” But aside from the fevered discussions over Britain’s future trade and legal relationship with the European Union, which have overshadowed nearly all political debate since the referendum, what is abundantly clear from the data is that the British public voted Leave in order to achieve aims that have, for decades, been advocated by the radical right. Since the referendum, those involved in the Leave campaign have sought to deny or minimize the link and now appear to be distancing themselves from the more radical elements of the campaign to leave the EU.

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