Unite the Kingdom or Divide the Nation? Far-Right Protests Test UK’s Identity

Over 100,000 people joined far-right leader Tommy Robinson's anti-immigration rally last weekend.

Protesters taking part in the anti-immigration rally organised by Tommy Robinson on Saturday, 13 September. 

(Photo: PTI)

The far-right protests that swept through London over the weekend were unlike anything the city has seen in years.

More than 110,000 people turned out for the “Unite the Kingdom” rally led by far-right leader Tommy Robinson and supported by foreign figures who have long traded in anti-immigration politics.

For many, the scale of the demonstration was a shock. What was once fringe is now commanding the kind of numbers that change political landscapes.

Central London became a battleground as Robinson’s supporters tried to push past police lines to reach counter-protesters. Bottles and projectiles flew. Twenty-six police officers were injured. Twenty-five people were arrested. The Union Jack waved over crowds chanting “send them home", while placards and chants sent a blunt message—immigrants are no longer welcome.

Among the sea of British symbols were American and Israeli flags, as well as red MAGA (Make America Great Again) hats, showing how Britain’s far-right is tapping into the global ecosystem of grievance.

Robinson’s rhetoric was sharpened by remote contributions from Elon Musk and the French far-right leader Eric Zemmour. Together they promoted the so-called “Great Replacement” theory, which claims white British identity is being erased by immigrants. This idea is baseless, but its danger lies in its simplicity. It has already inspired extremist violence across Europe and the US, and in London it found a vast audience ready to listen.

The Counter Protests

On the other side of Whitehall and Parliament Square stood a smaller but defiant counter protest. The campaigners, 'Stand Up To Racism' and left-leaning MPs, chanted “refugees welcome” and “smash the far right.” Their banners called for solidarity and compassion, but the contrast in numbers was striking. Where the far right drew six figures, the anti-racist camp could only muster a few thousands.

The response from officials was quick. London’s Mayor Sadiq Khan condemned the violence, while Prime Minister Keir Starmer vowed that Britain would “never surrender the flag to far-right protesters".

Yet, words will not be enough. The crowds in central London reflected not only extremist organising power but also deeper frustrations with jobs, housing, and services. Social media, fuelled with conspiracy theories, has turned these grievances into a combustible mix.

For many observers, the rally marked a turning point. Anti-immigration anger is no longer a background hum. It is loud, visible, and aggressive. The question now is whether Britain can prevent this movement from reshaping the nation’s political identity.

A Story Which Has Been Centuries in the Making

The violence and slogans of 2025 may feel new, but Britain has long lived with spasms of anti-immigrant hostility. The story stretches back centuries. In 1517, London erupted in what became known as the 'Evil May Day' riots.

Crowds stormed through the city attacking the homes of French, Italian and Flemish residents, accusing them of taking jobs and living off English workers. A bitter complaint was voiced then that “aliens and strangers eat the bread from the poor fatherless children". The words could just as easily have been heard at Robinson’s rally.

The cycle repeated itself over the centuries. In the 19th century, Jewish and Irish migrants were accused of crowding out locals. The Aliens Act of 1905 was Britain’s first attempt at immigration restrictions, aimed squarely at Jewish refugees fleeing Russian pogroms. The East End of London became the flashpoint, where anxieties over housing and poverty fed resentment.

After the World Wars, hostility shifted towards Britain’s Black and Asian populations. The 1958 Notting Hill riots saw white mobs attacking West-Indian residents, while the 1964 Smethwick by-election was marred by an openly racist campaign. In 1968, Conservative MP Enoch Powell gave his infamous “Rivers of Blood” speech, warning of disaster if immigration continued. His words sparked both outrage and support, solidifying immigration as one of the nation’s defining political issues.

By the 1970s, groups such as the National Front and later the British National Party offered organised vehicles for far-right anger. They targeted deprived communities in London, Yorkshire and Lancashire, blending racial resentment with economic decline. Counter-mobilisations grew too, but the far-right never entirely disappeared. It re-emerged again and again, each time with a new generation of leaders and new scapegoats.

Today’s far-right protests, amplified by social media, follow this long line of grievance. The tools have changed, but the narrative is familiar: immigrants are taking jobs, threatening identity, and undermining the nation. History shows these claims have never been fully true, but they have always found willing audiences during periods of insecurity.

Labour’s Clampdown and Rise of the Far-Right

The irony of today’s surge in anti-immigration protests is that it comes under a Labour government that has been far from lenient on immigration. Far from loosening controls, Labour has introduced even stricter rules than its Conservative predecessors.

Income thresholds for skilled workers have risen. The overseas care worker route has been shut down. Settlement periods have stretched from five years to 10. Dependents face tougher language requirements. Labour has promised more deportations, more returns, and even floated “return hubs” in third countries.

The aim was to reassure the public after record levels of net migration following the pandemic. But the result has been more resentment, not less. Communities already struggling with housing shortages and insecure work see migrants as competitors, and Labour’s restrictions are painted as proof the government has failed to manage the issue.

This gap has been seized by Nigel Farage and his party, Reform UK. Farage has returned to national prominence with a platform that openly calls for mass deportations and a break with international human rights agreements. His party thrives on the same imagery seen at Robinson’s rally—asylum hotels, small boats, and a government supposedly unwilling to act. Farage’s message has landed. Reform UK now polls competitively with Labour, making immigration one of the most explosive issues in British politics.

What is striking is that Labour’s toughened stance has not undercut the far right but energised it. By validating the idea that immigration is a “problem” to be solved through restriction, Labour has given Farage and Robinson a larger stage.

The more the government tightens, the more extremists point to loopholes and failures. The cycle feeds itself. For all the talk of "control", the reality is that Britain is drifting into deeper polarisation. Extremist rhetoric moves from fringe rallies into mainstream debate. The danger is that politics becomes locked in a spiral where each concession to anti-immigration sentiment only fuels demands for more.

The events of September should serve as a warning. Unless leaders start tackling the underlying causes of insecurity such as jobs, housing, education, and social trust, protests like Robinson's will not disappear. Instead, they will continue to expand. Britain is at a crossroads. The far-right claims to defend the nation, but its vision is one of exclusion and fear.

The counter-protesters who turned out, though smaller in number, offered another vision: a country where diversity is not a weakness but a source of strength. The legacy of this nation is not isolation but openness. From Huguenots to West Indians to South Asians, Britain has been shaped by waves of migration. At its best, it has been a refuge for the persecuted and a home for the ambitious. To forget that history is to forget what Britain truly is.

The far-right rally should not be remembered only for its size or its violence. It should be remembered as a test. Do we accept a politics of division, or do we fight for a pluralist democracy where everyone has a place? The choice belongs not just to politicians or protesters but to the silent majority who believe in fairness and justice. Their voices will determine whether Britain shrinks into fear or rises with hope.

(Ashraf Nehal is a political and foreign policy analyst and a columnist who mainly tracks South Asia. He can be reached on Twitter at @ashrafnehal19 and on Instagram at ___ashraf___19. This is an opinion piece. The views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for them.)