Tim Black writes:
Back in June, the sight of a bleary-eyed Nigel Farage, then
UKIP leader, basking in the EU referendum result and claiming that this day would ‘go
down in our history as our independence day’, appeared to realise the dreams of
Ukippers and the worst fears of right-thinking Remainers.
Farage’s time, it
seemed, had well and truly come. UKIP, the butt of endless broadsheet sneering,
dimwitted Nazi allusions and fathomless fearmongering, had won the referendum
and was, effectively, taking over.
‘Dare to dream’, Farage continued, ‘the dawn
is breaking on an independent United Kingdom’.
This was the narrative peddled as much
by those opposed to Brexit as Ukippers themselves: it was Nigel Farage and UKIP
wot won it.
They bleated on about immigration, deploying crude, disingenuous
posters at crucial moments, and, in doing so, they planted a purple seed of
nasty nativism in the minds of 17.4 million voters.
Little wonder The Economist said that, without Farage, ‘Britain’s
vote for Brexit probably would not have happened’; a New Statesman columnist concluded, after a
period of deep reflection, that Brexit voters were ‘a load of UKIP cunts’.
For opponents of Brexit, there is a
certain logic to attributing it to UKIP. It allows them not only to caricature
Brexit voters as whey-faced UKIP cunts, but to dismiss them, too.
And it allows
them to suggest that Farage is ‘directly responsible’ for what has happened,
and to hold him to account, as if he’s some quasi post-Brexit national leader.
Yet the assertion that UKIP somehow
authored Brexit, that those millions upon millions of Leave voters were de
facto UKIP voters, doesn’t really stand up.
After all, if that really were the
case, then one would have expected UKIP to have been galvanised by the events
of 23 June.
As the supposed voice of 17.4 million voters, one would have
expected a certain organisational strut, a confidence, a conviction.
But that
has not been the case.
In fact, since the referendum, UKIP
has been busy imploding.
First Farage resigned.
Then his successor-elect,
migration and financial-affairs spokesman Steven Woolfe, was edged out of the
leadership race on a dubious technicality.
And then, as its eventual leader
UKIP picked Diane James, an unremarkable middle manager. Inspiring she ain’t.
All the back-biting and backstabbing that has characterised
UKIP’s internal politics over the past couple of years has actually intensified
since the referendum result.
Moreover, many UKIP members, including former head
of media Alexandra Phillips, are reportedly leaving the party to join the
Tories.
This weekend’s party conference in Bournemouth may have outwardly
appeared as naffly jovial as ever, with stalls flogging everything from
Trumptastic ‘Make Britain Great Again’ baseball caps to UKIP-branded condoms,
but the inward disarray of UKIP has been as obvious as its Welsh Assembly
leader Neil Hamilton’s enduring unpopularity.
And no wonder.
For far from being
the coming force of British politics, and the driving force of Brexit, UKIP is
the fading force.
Its leading figures know that it is in the midst of a
momentous shift in British political life, as it has been for the past couple
of years, but they also know they are losing traction, not gaining it.
Hence
the disagreements over what exactly UKIP should be: a traditional political
party, or a glorified pressure group.
After all, if UKIP really was the
commanding presence in post-Brexit political life, its chief figures wouldn’t
be trying to change a winning formula; they’d be capitalising on it.
UKIP still commands significant
support, of course – it won nearly four million votes at the last General
Election.
But that also captures its weakness, too. For four million amounts to
only a fraction of the 17.4million who voted for Brexit.
You would expect if
UKIP really had won the referendum, if Farage really was ‘directly responsible’
for Brexit, that its support would have risen considerably since the last
General Election.
But, as a recent YouGov poll shows, that is not the case: it
is polling at 12 per cent, its lowest level for two years.
Anecdotes bear out
the figures.
One Guardian columnist, taking the pre-referendum
temperature in the provinces, even noted the widespread indifference towards
the likes of Farage:
‘Hardly anybody talks about the campaigns, and the most a
mention of the respective figureheads of each camp tends to elicit is a
dismissive tut.’
What we’re seeing, then, is not the
development of a post-Brexit political force, so much as the disintegration of
a pre-Brexit force.
UKIP certainly benefited from the political establishment’s
estrangement from vast swathes of the UK. But it didn’t shape that antagonism.
That’s why the travails of UKIP are significant – not in themselves, but
insofar as they capture something about the still-to-be articulated nature of
the Brexit vote; this yearning for a form of democracy yet to emerge; this
striving for a degree of self-determination yet to be realised; this need of a
form of popular sovereignty far beyond the ambitions of UKIP.
UKIP was never
the future, because it was never the organisational expression of that which
motivated the majority to vote Leave.
Yes, for a while it was a comfortable
passenger, but it was never the driver.
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