Saturday, 15 August 2026

Assumpta est Maria in cælum!

Gaude, Maria Virgo, cunctas hæreses sola interemisti in universo mundo!

The Church proclaims the resurrection of the body, and there is no such thing as a “spiritual body”. It is impossible to sustain out of Scripture the view according to which newly disembodied souls entered immediately into their final, but incorporeal, bliss or torment.

Serious Protestant theologians do not hold it, although that does leave them with only the original Protestant position that until the General Resurrection, souls were effectively as dead as their bodies. But Catholics cannot hold it, since the Assumption is the standing contradiction of it.

Flamingo Land


“Why am I living in England?” Avni, an Albanian in his 40s working in London as a builder, asked me angrily, as we walked to the lines of riot police separating Albania’s Flamingo Revolution protestors from the country’s parliament. “Albania is a very good country, there is no war here. We shouldn’t be immigrants. We should come back home,” he added, telling me that his home village in northern Albania was now entirely depopulated, as everyone who could had already decamped to Britain or elsewhere in Western Europe.

“Because the government [in Albania] is very corrupted, people doesn’t get no rights, but if you know anybody from government, you’ll be a millionaire in two days. All the MPs from Albania, they become billionaires, they’ve got massive houses, massive cash, hidden everywhere. All their cousins, they got massive, massive cash. It’s a really, really corrupted government, and we’ve had enough of this. They push us all [to] Europe, but we need to come back.”

It was the 54th and most violent day so far of the street protests that have overshadowed Albania’s summer, to the chagrin of Edi Rama’s Socialist Party government, which has run the country for 13 consecutive years. “Everyone thinks that this is a democratic state,” Bora Mitrovica, an Albanian-Canadian activist, told me at the police barriers where I had found her, shouting “Down with communism!” and cursing the police with elaborate Balkan oaths. “It is not. Edi Rama is a dictator. This is a dictatorship.” Bora had just been pepper-sprayed by police, after attempting to push through the barriers towards Albania’s parliament. Protestors had hurled eggs and water bottles at police lines, and at the cars of politicians making their way to the voting chamber. When the police pushed them back with tear gas, water cannon and pepper spray, the protestors howled in fury, some breaking aloe leaves from the decorative street planting and squeezing the soothing juice into their eyes. “Dictatorship does not end with a chant, You need to fight. We need our Albanian men to stand up and not just say ‘fuck you’, because that’s not how you change the country,” Bora told me. “I advise all tourists to get the fuck out as soon as they can, because they’re not going to be able to handle what we can handle as Albanians.”

The protests had begun in the southern seaside village of Zvërnec back in May. Villagers had discovered access to their fishing boats and coastal olive groves suddenly closed off by security fencing, and construction vehicles apparently starting work on a luxury resort project backed by Trump’s daughter and son-in-law, Ivanka and Jared Kushner, and strongly supported by Rama’s government. In violent scenes, security guards and villagers clashed, before local protestors broke down the fencing and reclaimed possession of what they say is their land. Who the land in question actually belongs to remains a matter of dispute. Because of the many land reforms and disbursements marking the country’s shifts from Ottoman rule to independence and Italian occupation, and then from Enver Hoxha’s isolationist regime to the chaotic transition to democracy, claims in Albania often overlap. Frequently, more than one party can claim legal title to any given plot.

The ostensible owner of the Zvërnec coastline at the centre of the Kushner project, a Miami-based businessman called Artur Shehu, has been accused by lawyers working for local villagers of forging Ottoman title deeds to seize control of their valuable property. In June, he was also announced to be under investigation by SPAK, an anti-corruption body set up by Rama’s government, for money laundering and international cocaine trafficking. Shehu, for his part, denies any wrongdoing, insisting he is a legitimate businessman who inherited the land from his medieval forebears. Complicating the story are hints, in SPAK proceedings, of government officials’ attendance at meetings with Shehu and other alleged cocaine traffickers. And SPAK files leaked to international journalists suggest that Belgian investigators noted that “these meetings appear to be related to real estate projects in Albania, potentially financed with illicit funds, with the support of political authorities”. At the same time, SPAK stresses that “at this stage no evidence is presented that identifies the officials involved or proves their participation in illegal activities”. The gap between these two claims is now, in Albania, filled with feverish and dramatic political speculation, used by the opposition Democratic Party to claim high-level political corruption.

* * * * *

Because the salt lagoon at Zvërnec is a rare European breeding ground for flamingos, the initial protests in Tirana were environmental ones, with festive protestors carrying giant styrofoam flamingos as their emblem. But over the course of the following weeks, the protests escalated from halting construction on the project and reinstating Albania’s recently quashed environmental protection laws, to demanding what is in effect a full revolution against the entire political system. The protestors now insist that Rama must resign and face trial for corruption, along with the leader of the opposition, Sali Berisha, while Albania must install a 12-month technocratic government before new elections. Naturally, Rama is not inclined to agree, hence the current standoff.

Though the nightly protests along Tirana’s leafy boulevards are good-natured family affairs, those in the morning are rowdier, bringing along a more committed core of activists who declare themselves to be revolutionaries. While there are young masked men to be seen throwing missiles, and older working-class men wearing the traditional Albanian felt cap or waving the flag of Greater Albania, the majority are from the young, highly-educated and socially liberal Tirana bourgeoisie, as well as the diaspora — ordinarily a reliable vote bank for Rama’s reformist and pro-EU government. Conservative young women in hijabs stand alongside heavily-tattooed hipsters, chanting “Rama, hand in your resignation,” in Albanian at the police lines, to the tune of The White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army”, or “Rama, Rama, Fuck You,” to the tune of “We Will Rock You”.

Over the days and nights of protests I attended, long and passionate speeches condemned the government as terrorists, as a dictatorship, and bemoaned the claimed sell-out of Albanian land to Israeli interests. The latter, rather conspiratorial, claim transpired to be a regular theme when talking to Albanians. Even stickers observed on lampposts in central Tirana depicted Rama as a stooge of George Soros or as a Hasidic Jew. Xhoana, a fashionably dressed marketing executive, told me: “Our government is selling our land to Jared Kushner and Ivanka Trump, and the oligarchs in our place. They don’t work for the people. We want a revolution because everything is a mess.”

“Albania right now doesn’t need a revolution,” said a government spokesperson, who insisted on anonymity, drawing on a cigarette at a pavement cafe. “People have been saying for 50 days we need a revolution, but they have no plan for what comes next. A revolution at this stage, when we are so close to going into the EU, is a dangerous thing.” Rama’s Socialist Party government has pledged EU entry for Albania by 2030, but negotiations have dragged on since 2009, delayed by rule of law concerns, the country’s relative poverty, and worries over organised crime — particularly the domination of international cocaine trafficking by Albanian clans. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine reignited the accession process, as EU officials felt compelled to exert the bloc’s agency in the new age of geopolitical competition. But the window for accession may be narrow and short-lived. For both the ruling Socialist Party and the EU, this summer’s mass protests are an unwanted complication.

“Europe, chiefly the European Commission, they wanted to see all progress,” Genc Pollo, a prominent Albanian conservative intellectual and former Deputy Prime Minister told me. “They didn’t want to see the democratic backslide, and in their annual reports, they omitted all the problems, for whatever reasons.” A sceptic of Albania’s progress under Rama’s government, which he termed a “narco-state,” ruled by a “klepto-regime”, Polalo told me that “Rama has allowed for the Albanian rings, which bring coke from Latin America to central and northern Europe, to launder their proceeds in construction. And then, I mean, when elections come, they, with their money and their muscle, they help him get the vote.” But, in his telling, European diplomats are deaf to the opposition’s concerns. “Edi Rama is a master in staging things, and organising, in having summits in Tirana, and having the leaders in some restaurant presenting a pizza, with his face on the pizza box, and then you have the President of the European Commission, saying ‘Oh, this is wonderful, this is wonderful, oh, dear Edi’.”

On the face of it, though, the protests, supported by every single Albanian I spoke to who wasn’t a member of the government, seem strangely timed. Under Rama’s rule, Albania’s GDP has almost tripled in a decade, a growth rate Western Europeans can only envy. New tower blocks, exuberantly designed in the flush of new wealth, loom over Tirana’s handsome Mussolini-era civic architecture and the few surviving Ottoman mosques and coaching inns. Until recently seen as rather outré destinations, both Tirana and the country’s many fast-developing beach resorts are now filled with tourists, both northern Europeans seeking summer sun and Turks and Gulf Arabs escaping it. The bustling cafes, bars and restaurants are as stylish and comfortable as anything elsewhere in the Mediterranean, if no longer significantly cheaper. Albanian wages have not kept up with the rapid inflation of prices, particularly of food and property, introduced by the influx of money, legitimate or otherwise. In some ways, Edi Rama appears a victim of his own success.

The protestors are “an urban group of people, predominantly highly educated”, says Pirro Vengu, a Socialist Party MP for Vlorë, including Zvërnec, over coffee at one of those stylish restaurants. “The paradox is that this is the youth that has come to age during this government. So, apparently we’ve done something right, right?” Young, smartly suited and charismatic, Vengo is a rising star in Albanian politics, who even government critics in Zvërnec ruefully admitted liking. “It’s also totally legitimate that Albanians are not comparing the country now to its tragic past of the Nineties. We’re not the poorest country in Europe anymore. We’re comparing ourselves to Western Europe, where all Albanians have travelled several times.”

For all the country’s economic success, Albanian political discourse is riven by eyebrow-raising claims of impropriety, emanating most strongly from the opposition. In his office in Democratic Party headquarters, Sali Berisha, the 81-year old leader of the conservative opposition, came out from behind a desk piled high with papers to shake my hand. Behind him, on the cluttered bookshelves, a MAGA baseball cap and framed photograph of Mother Teresa vied for space. Albania’s first democratically elected leader, and the architect of the country’s Western orientation, Berisha is as central a figure in shaping the country’s modern course as his arch-rival, Edi Rama. Just a few weeks earlier, the Trump administration, citing national security grounds, had lifted the Biden-era entry sanctions placed against Berisha for corruption in office, which he denies. British sanctions remain in place — unjustly, Berisha told me, handing me a printout of an FCO document relating to his case, and accusing the previous British ambassador of being “corrupted” by Edi Rama. The influx of money from criminal proceeds, Berisha told me, had distorted the country’s economy, wrecking Albanian exports to Europe while being laundered in high-value construction projects. “If you look to this country,” Berisha asked me rhetorically, “What you will find? You’ll find an extraordinary power in the hands of Edi Rama and his government, which is the power of drugs. The power of drugs is many, many billions of euros. The power of drugs, of Albanian drug cartels, controls everything in this country.”

Recently returned to frontline politics after defeating internal rivals within the Democratic Party, Berisha eyes the protests as a route back to office, or at very least as weakening his bitter rival Rama’s grip on power. He concedes that “maybe 20%” of the slogans demanded his jailing, but assures me that these demands were made only by “Left-wing extremist groups”. For the most part, he said, the protestors were against the government, “and their cause is just. [It] is our cause. That’s why we fully support it. We fully respect it, we do not try to take the leadership of it.” As for his rival himself, “Edi Rama treats Albania like his personal fiefdom, in which he could do everything,” Berisha told me. “Like being a sultan, in a sultanate of centuries ago, where the air, the land, and the water, are considered property of the sultan.”

* * * * *

The Prime Minister’s Office is in a handsome Rationalist building opened in 1941, designed to house the Italian colonial governor. Attendants there ushered me through long corridors, lined with classical Greek and Ottoman ceramics and into Edi Rama’s office, where he pointedly ignored me for some time, busy scrolling on his mobile phone. Rama had been an artist and writer before entering politics as the reformist Mayor of Tirana, whose policy of beautifying the capital had turned it into an Instagrammable tourist destination, and himself into Albania’s second longest-serving ruler since independence in 1912, surpassed only by the communist dictatorship. A big and powerful-looking man, today dressed all in loose, black clothing, apart from spotless white trainers, the fiercely intelligent Rama is as charismatic as he is intimidating. But recent international interviews had been fraught, making the mood in the office tense. When Rama finally sat down beside me, leaning into his chair, I asked him his opinion of the protests.

“The protests today are not the protests of June, so the people who spoke today are different. They are engaged in political parties. They are engaged in opposition parties, small parties of opposition, Leftists from the extreme and Rightists from the extreme,” he claimed, “While the June protests were different, were bigger, a lot of people that voted for us were there.” In any case, “I am very, very proud that we have had such a big protest for days in a most peaceful manner, and that nobody was hurt, nobody was stopped to do what he or she wanted,” he added, “The bottom line is that this protest shows a country that is like a normal European country where you have protests.” Repeating his government’s claim that the protests were being stoked by foreign actors, he suggested that “the algorithm did a lot to bring them to bring them in the boulevard, you know? Listen, I’m telling you, one of the things that we have seen from the back of the mirror, the social media, is that a very high percentage of the content is produced outside the building. It’s not Albanian.” Indeed, Rama added, “If this would not have been about Jared Kushner and Trump and Ivanka and all type of fantasies, this would not have been so good for the algorithm,” but the Kushner link “brought all the anti-Trump people on steroids.” When I demurred, he added, “You are an exception in this if you are not looking for an angle to say how terrible Trump is and how he’s killed flamingos in Albania.”

* * * * *

But neither Trump nor flamingos seem the prime source of discontent down in Zvërnec. “Albania is not a democracy,” an older man told me in the village’s heavily-accented Greek. “They are thieves, all of them, Edi Rama and Sali Berisha are the same,” he said, rubbing his forefingers together for emphasis. “We have had no water here for two months. I have to use my little well, but then they take everything we own here for themselves.” A local woman agreed. “They have taken my elderly father’s olive groves. We have had these plots from generation to generation but they won’t give us the papers saying they belong to us, not even for the house we live in.”

For the birthplace of Albania’s political crisis, Zvërnec is a sleepy place, a village of a few hundred people, mostly ethnic Greeks or Hellenised Vlach pastoralists. Close to the southern city of Vlorë, whose thudding beach bars stretch along the sandy shoreline to the village boundaries, Zvërnec reflects an older, unspoiled Mediterranean, increasingly a nostalgic memory even in Albania. Wading birds hoot and croak in the coastal marshes of the Vjosa delta, cicadas rasp in the olive groves, shaded from the ferocious summer sun: it is all reminiscent of the Greece of maybe 30 or 40 years ago. “We want investment, but not this investment,” one woman told me. “This is our land, and we have never got our family land back since 1991. We also don’t want Israelites here — this is Albanian land, and if they come here we will kill them.”

On Zvërnec’s wild sandy beach of Portonovo, empty save for a handful of local families, happily ignoring the notices forbidding them to swim, I met Kosta Xhaho, the local project coordinator for PPNEA, Albania’s largest environmental NGO. This is, he told me, one of the most important, turtle nesting areas, and Ground Zero for the protests that had long migrated to central Tirana. “We started to protest here. Then we started to fight with those bulldozers that started to construct a road and the trucks in the protected area. And then we started to fight with the security that they put on the fences, and now we are fighting with the government to change the law, so this area is to stay protected forever.”

PPNEA’s wish is for the beach and the rest of the coastline to remain public land, as was all the way back to King Zog’s Kingdom of Albania. But it is a highly marketable commodity, just as much for those who have farmed it for generations as for the Kushners. And it is not clear that the villagers themselves wish the site to remain undeveloped, rather than profiting from the tourism boom they believe Shehu has stolen from them. In nearby Vlorë, local opinion is distinctly more in favour of the Kushner project. “These people [in Zvërnec] are stupid,” a Vlorë taxi driver told me. “They don’t want to go forward, but it’s one of the biggest investments in Europe. It’ll be so good for our city. I just hope it’s like they say it is, and Israel doesn’t build a base there,” he added. Even so, he told me that he supports the Tirana protests “because they’re about high prices. Albania is a very poor country still, and very corrupt.” I asked him who he voted for. “Rama, of course,” he said, looking at me as if I’d asked a stupid question, “Every time Edi Rama.”

For Rama himself, re-elected just over a year ago for a fourth term, the protests have come as a jolt of shock. In the recently released “Besa” strategic document, whose name alludes to the unbreakable oath-making central to traditional Albanian culture, Rama’s government declared that “the flamingo boulevard” presented “a mirror that society held up before us”, and proof that “ever more Albanians, including older ones, no longer compare the Albania we have with the one we had in 2013, but only with the one they themselves believe Albania can and must be”. Much of the Besa document seems to draw from de Tocqueville’s observation that the most dangerous moment for any regime is when the rising expectations derived from reforms already undertaken make any residual injustices seem intolerable. “The citizen who has more than yesterday,” the strategy’s authors write, “is a more dissatisfied citizen. Precisely because they live better today than yesterday, they likewise believe that their country is capable of doing far more than it does today.” In a recent open letter, the former Socialist Party insider and Rama loyalist Elisa Spiropali, recently removed from her role as Europe Minister, declared that the protests represent a “political and social mobilisation, especially among the younger generation, that cannot be ignored without consequences.” In what can only be read as a critique of Rama’s governance style, Spiropali asserted that Albania requires “not more personalisation of power, but institutions stronger than individuals”, “more humility, less arrogance”, “more representation and less concentration of decision-making”, to build “a state where the law stands above power and where power is not identified with any one person”.

When I asked Edi Rama whether Spiropali’s open letter highlighted inner disputes within the Socialist Party, he shut down the question. “This is a very internal, domestic thing,” he said. “And we have to keep it for our own because I don’t think we have to export our internal things outside for the audience, because then it becomes like feeding with curiosity, feeding with curious things, an audience that is not at all inside the story, not informed or nothing.” But the opposition had no such qualms, I replied, adding that Berisha had made very specific allegations that political figures within Rama’s inner circle had attended the Aruba meeting with the alleged drug trafficker Artur Shehu, and that the government had uncomfortable links with organised crime bosses. “Where is it? Who, where? Where is the picture? Where is the document? Where are the tickets? Where, where?” he responded. “So how would you answer,” he added, pointing at me, “for example, an allegation that you were yesterday with some drug dealers in the hotel where you are sleeping. How do you answer that?”

He went on, “Yeah, the opposition figures may tell you many things, but it’s not for me to say to you, if we are linked or not, it’s for them to prove that we are linked or not, because I’m really disgusted from years now that in this country… that the burden of proof has passed to them who were accused.” Asked about the opposition’s characterisation of Albania as a narco-state, Rama dismissed the idea entirely. “You can say whatever you want. But ‘narco-state’, a narco-state that started to close negotiating chapters with the EU? It doesn’t match in any shape or form. If Albania has problems with corruption, Albania has never fought corruption like these years. If Albania has problems with crime, Albania has never fought crime like these years. And when it comes to crime, I’m telling you, we pay a big price in the Balkans, to the fact that people from the Balkans are very active in organised crime. Outside. But the industry of the crime is not here. It’s there.”

Referring to my being a journalist, he added, “You know narco-states, I guess, how they feel like, you know corrupt poor countries, how they feel like, you know middle-income countries, how they feel like. I don’t think you need me or whomever else to tell you in which type of country you are, with all the goods and the downsides… It doesn’t feel unsafe, it doesn’t feel like a poor country, you don’t feel all these things.”

I asked Rama if, having secured his place as one of the most significant figures in Albania’s history, he worried that an escalation of the protests might harm his legacy. “No, how protests can threaten the legacy?” he said, “I like the pressure.” He had ridden out two previous waves of protests, he told me, maybe bigger than today’s, in 2013, just after entering power, and also in 2018. “When it came to the first one, I pulled back because they were right. They had a very strong point. I said, you are right, we’ll stop. And it ended, they got what they wanted. Second time, I didn’t pull back. But I started a conversation with them and we did good things. This time, I learned things, so we are not going to pull back from the [Zvërnec] project, for sure. But we’re gonna make a [consultation] process.” In the end, he added, “I strongly believe the project will close this chapter completely because it will be beautiful.”

Many Albanians I spoke to, including those otherwise supportive of Rama, likened his current situation to that of Serbia’s strongman Aleksandar Vučić — not, in Albania, a flattering comparison — who has also won the EU’s favour while facing down months-long street protests. While it is unlikely that the protests alone will unseat Rama, they clearly highlight a growing disaffection with the two-party system, and the current politics of patronage. Mostly young, liberal and highly-educated, the protestors are, to a large degree, Edi Rama’s children. For nearly a generation, Rama’s brand of developmentalist, benevolent paternalism has transformed the country into a genuinely dynamic boom economy, at a dizzying pace. But like the villagers in Zvërnec, Tirana’s middle classes feel poorer, not richer, for the visible growth and wealth sprouting around them. For Western observers, now accustomed to stagnant wages and the limitations of two-party systems, Albania’s political crisis shows, ironically, how European the country has become, even while stuck in the EU’s Balkan waiting-room.

With the protests continuing, contrary to early expectations, through August, the likelihood of their escalation in the cooler weather of autumn, when holidaymakers have returned home and students have returned to classes, appears to be growing. But juggling his attempts to secure the simultaneous approval of EU observers, of the mercurial and acquisitive Trump administration, of the party shaped in his own image and of his increasingly restive voters, Rama projected only calmness. Leaning back into his armchair at the end of our meeting, he told me, “Listen, I am 13 years here now. So I have three more years. I have nothing to prove to myself. Because in the beginning, you know, there are many things to prove to yourself. As you said, I have my place in the history of this country, then, in which light this will be decided by the people.”

But navigating the vagaries of the second Trump administration has increased the pressure on Edi Rama, whose attempts to court favour with the American president, whether by signing up Albania to Trump’s dubious Board of Peace scheme or by pushing through the Kushner family’s contentious real estate project, has revealed previously hidden fractures within his own voter base. Rama’s only reward, so far, has been Washington’s sudden rehabilitation of his bitterest political rival, Sali Berisha, in what can only be read as a means to exert American pressure. What happens over autumn will now decide everything, Sali Berisha told me. “Very much will depend on September. Will they re-energise, remobilise? Will opposition parties succeed to get united in a large front? To persist for a caretaker government for new elections, or not, I could not predict. It’s difficult, but I think it’s vital.” But the Democratic Party’s chances of riding popular dissatisfaction to power seems doubtful, given the broad, anti-systemic nature of the protests. In the street directly outside Berisha’s office, pausing to check my phone, I noticed a slogan prominently scrawled on a large metal bin. “Revolucion, Rama Burg, Berisha Burg,” it said, Rama to jail, Berisha to jail. It is, by far, the most popular slogan shouted on Tirana’s streets.

Friday, 14 August 2026

Outis Reading

The alert on my phone made me drop my disposable barbecue, and now the whole street is ablaze.

There were fire pits at the Clactonbury Farage Fest, and its very existence, necessarily arranged well in advance complete with live coverage on GB News, confirmed that Nigel Farage had never intended to attend the count with the Count and another 33 “nobodies”.

But that could not have been because no one there would have been a representative of a major political party. Most members of the House of Commons are, and Farage almost never turns up to that, either.

A Sore Winner

Hungover after far too big a weeknight for men of their age, Richard Tice and Lee Anderson took to the airwaves this morning to call Essex Police liars. Will they be treated as Zack Polanski was earlier in the year? And what would have been the reaction from Reform UK if Nigel Farage had lost? Robert Hutton writes:

The thinnest material in the world is graphene, a honeycomb lattice of carbon that is a single atom thick. The second thinnest, we learned on Friday morning, is Nigel Farage’s skin.

Seriously. How fragile do you have to be to sulk through your own election victory? There are peaches that bruise less easily than Farage’s ego. Had not enough people voted for him? Watching the rolling news in Pyongyang, Kim Jong Un could be heard muttering “mate, get over yourself”.

We had risen early, or stayed up through the night, for the result of the Clacton by-election, called by Farage a month ago to settle the vital democratic question “should I be able to keep my gifts and support from a fraudster secret?” The outcome had never been in doubt, partly because none of the other parties were standing, preferring to await the outcome of the parliamentary investigation that the Reform leader insists he isn’t worried about, and also insists is rigged.

Nigel The Very Brave And Honest, though, had already declared that he wouldn’t be there. “I am damned if I am going to stand on a stage, having won a resounding victory,” he announced hours earlier at a rally, “and be demeaned and humiliated by nobodies.” This was, in the first place, a little harsh on Laurence Fox, who appeared in 42 episodes of Lewis, making him a better-known figure than 99 per cent of by-election candidates. But it also raises the question of which “somebodies” Farage had been hoping to face in the election. Taylor Swift? William Gladstone? Cicero?

So Farage became the first MP not to attend the declaration of his victory since … let me check this … Bobby Sands. The IRA man was in prison at the time, an excuse that isn’t available to Farage.

That led to the surreal experience of a count in which the announcement of the winner was greeted with total silence. Even the Everyone Is God Party, with their 10 votes, got a cheer. (Perhaps this was the candidate that Farage couldn’t bear to meet. Reform is very clear that we shall have no gods beside Nigel.)

Even Reform’s press officers sensed that this strop was making their fearless leader look a little bit of a whiny baby, so they let it be known that the police had warned of a “credible threat” to Farage’s safety if he attended the count. Not another one!

Obviously there are people out there who wish Farage ill, some of them seriously unhinged, and several of them not Robert Jenrick. And yet it’s hard to escape the thought that a lot of Farage’s security threats arrive at convenient moments, like when he’s being asked to explain how that five million quid got into his bank account, or when the bins need putting out. Essex Police, unhelpfully, denied having warned Farage of this. Perhaps the police force that issued the warning goes to a different school.

Over on GB News, The Channel That Backs Our Nige, the hosts were doing their best to take all this seriously. “He’s got more votes than he got in 2024!” one of them enthused. Triumph! Was it, though? Is 63 per cent a good number in the most Reform-friendly seat in the country, when your only rival is a man with a bin on his head?

Farage’s disappearance suggested that he at least didn’t think so. The word came down that he’d cancelled a speech he’d planned for mid-morning, too. The result, GB News told us, “shows that Reform has matured”. Which was odd, because you could hear the toys being thrown out of Farage’s pram from a hundred miles away.

Instead we heard from Richard Tice, who described the decision of other parties not to fight in Clacton as “cowardice, pure cowardice”, an interesting way to go when your leader has just dashed back into hiding.

Is Farage really too peevish to celebrate his own success? There’s another possibility. A couple of weeks ago, he mentioned having had abdominal surgery at the start of the campaign. His habit of only speaking to journalists who can be sure not to ask tricky questions means this revelation has gone uninterrogated, but the Reform leader may still be recovering, which would explain a restricted schedule.

Britain’s smaller parties usually complain that the broadcasters won’t give them airtime. But on Friday, we had the sight of a by-election winner refusing to speak to anyone. Things were so desperate that the party put Lee Anderson up. “What we should be doing today is celebrating Nigel’s stunning victory in Clacton,” he told the BBC. Though if Nigel himself can’t be bothered, it’s not clear why the rest of us should.

“Nigel is a great man of principle,” Anderson went on. The principle in question being Nigel Should Be Very Rich. Farage, in fairness, does speak for sections of the public who are often unheard in our democracy: people who are concealing their income, for instance.

Why, the BBC asked, was everyone in Reform so cross, when the party had just won? “I’m not angry,” Anderson snarled. “We’re really happy.” It was the saddest thing I’d heard all morning.

And what about the disputed claim about the threat to Farage’s safety? “I believe Nigel above the police,” Anderson replied. That, at least, is a line that may come in handy again.

Henry Hill writes:

So, that was the Clacton by-election. The first one, anyway, perhaps — depending on the findings of the now-resumed parliamentary investigation into Nigel Farage’s financial dealings. Provided he’s legally able to keep his campaign data, Jonathan David “Count Binface” Harvey probably has the contact list to get a recall petition over the line if the option arises.

Nobody really emerges from the contest with much credit. Farage didn’t perform especially strongly, has done nothing to derail the inquiries into his financial affairs, and has seen his party slip in the polls as Andy Burnham enjoyed an all but uncontested spotlight for his honeymoon. Tactically, it was probably wise for the other parties to stand aside and leave him to Harvey.

For my part, however, I can’t help but think it a little insulting to the voters of Clacton. Whatever one thinks of Farage’s decision to precipitate a needless by-election, it is something our system allows MPs to do and the election itself isn’t fake; the stakes are still who represents Clacton in Parliament, just the same as a general election, and if the good burghers of Clacton have to turn out for the political process it is not unreasonable to expect those who do it for a living to do them the courtesy of turning up.

Regardless, Farage now cuts a diminished and yet-diminishing figure. The joie de vivre which was once such an essential element of his public persona has all but disappeared, and the public face of Reform UK is increasingly the snarling countenance of Zia Yusuf. Like Richard Tice, who used to talk about the need to ‘destroy’ the Conservative Party, Yusuf represents a very real strain of Reform sentiment. But it is not an approach likely to grow the party’s share of the vote.

However, we should be careful before over-interpreting Reform’s recent difficulties. If journalists can write about what a bad time it’s having, it’s only because of how quickly we have adjusted to grading Reform on a completely new curve. Until recently, the party had a year and a half in first place in the polls, and it remains for now in second place.

Moreover, the most recent swing against it looks to have been voters defecting to Labour, which means two things. First, that these voters could well be won back, either in this parliament or the next, as and when the Burnham Government starts disappointing people, as governments inevitably do. Second, that the Tories are not making much headway in re-consolidating their traditional grip on the Right.

The relative stickiness of Reform’s numbers in its present trying circumstances also suggests that Farage has not only moved his party’s ceiling, but its floor; that there are now simply more people who consider themselves “Reform voters”. This is an important step in establishing Reform as an enduring national force — the difference between 120 seats being an historic achievement, as it would be for Reform in 2029, and an historic disaster, as it was for the Conservatives in 2024.

One important question is what exactly “Reform voters” means. It seems very unlikely, in today’s political climate, that any party could build the sort of institutional allegiance which Labour and the Conservatives achieved in the mid-20th Century. These voters could be “Farage voters”, loyal to him and activated by his particular talents but not generally available to the Right; others could be “radical right voters”, currently choosing Reform as their best bet but happy to be wooed by alternatives, be that Rupert Lowe’s Restore Britain or, hypothetically, a revivified and suitably right-wing Conservative Party.

Personally, I remain very bear-ish on Reform as a party and suspect it would struggle to maintain itself without Farage, whose departure from politics feels a much more concrete prospect than it did eighteen months ago even if it isn’t necessarily imminent.

There is a cruel irony to it, but it is a tribute to Farage’s extraordinary success that he has managed to grow the non-Conservative Right to the point where it needs someone else. For a long time, UKIP’s marginal electoral position made it the perfect berth for someone of Farage’s campaigning talent, who recognised that the way to effect change was to induce the major parties to try and deal with him. His authoritarian leadership style did more good than harm, and his personal foibles mattered less, or at least were less often noticed.

When you have ten per cent of the voters, that’s exactly the sort of leadership you need. When you have 25 per cent, you need something quite different. You need someone who can build institutions, attract talent, take seriously the prospect of governing the nation — and possessed of enough self-awareness and self-restraint to conduct their personal and financial affairs as if they were a high-profile public figure with lots of enemies.

Farage has never shown any sign of being that person, and it may be that no suitable candidate ever emerges. But looking at the condition of British politics in the wake of Clacton, one can perceive what may end up being Farage’s legacy: a world in which he fades away, but the voting bloc he built does not fade with him.

Jonny Ball writes:

In news that will surprise few, Nigel Farage has retained his seat in the Clacton by-election. His chief opponent, the tiresomely twee Count Binface, whose satirical electioneering seems to have superseded the traditional joke candidatures of the Monster Raving Loony Party, somehow came to consolidate much of the anti-Farage bloc behind him in the pensioner-friendly Essex seaside town, earning a respectable second place with 27%. But there is not much of an anti-Farage bloc to speak of in pensioner-friendly Essex seaside towns.

Farage himself managed to secure 63% of the vote, up from 46% in the general election two years ago. But that’s only because none of Britain’s main parties chose to stand in Clacton, much to Reform UK’s annoyance, in what soon became a pointless, shoddy and farcical episode in British electoral history. Instead of high drama, we have seen a carousel of the weird, the mad and the inane, with a three-foot-long ballot paper that includes the Everyone Is God party focused on promoting good sex, along with 20 independents.

Reform’s leader hoped to dominate the summer’s discourse with news from a by-election campaign pitting the People against the Establishment. But nobody had reckoned with the Establishment simply refusing to play ball, at which point a Reform victory in the populist party’s safest seat went from a foregone conclusion to a blindingly obvious nullity. This denied Farage any bragging rights when his core supporters turned out to back him in spite of accusations of impropriety and investigations by the parliamentary standards committee. So as the other main parties weren’t on the pitch to play the role, there was some muted commentary that tried to position the man inside the bin, Jonathan Harvey, as the real Establishment-in-disguise, the liberal elite by proxy and in costume. He is a former BBC comedy writer, after all.

But what the whole episode has revealed is less a grand conspiracy against the march of the Right, and more that Farage, a savvy, guerrilla political operator, and perhaps the most able political communicator of his generation, can be guilty of missteps. The standards inquiry into his donations row will now continue, potentially leading to yet another by-election if he is found in breach of the rules. This victory will not put a stop to awkward questions about crypto grifting, criminal associates and undeclared funds. Farage may have hoped to create a victorious Battle of Clacton finale to draw a line under the saga, but it will instead be little more than a limp subplot.

To be sure, Farage has demonstrated that he has a core base of support that will stick with him, come what may. He’s a fan club politician. A little under a third of the country likes him. And the people who like him often love him, and can be unswervingly loyal to him, even if all the evidence shows large majorities of the rest of the country would prefer just about anyone else in Westminster to be PM (save for Zack Polanski).

Clacton wasn’t the People versus the Establishment, and Farage is little but a renegade member of the elite he so vocally and viscerally despises. He has been embedded within the upper echelons of City trading, the broadcast media, the MAGA circuit and the weirder edges of the fintech scene, as well as the shabby worlds of Brussels, Washington and Westminster politics, for several decades, and he has been remunerated handsomely for efforts in his field. He had hoped the by-election might allow him to chalk up another success on his long political journey, but this victory will feel pyrrhic, and particularly hollow.

Sonia Sodha writes:

Nigel Farage’s by-election victory against a candidate dressed as a bin was so resounding he failed to turn up at the count. A Reform UK spokesperson claimed it was because Essex Police advised him not to attend due to a credible threat against him. But that doesn’t square either with the police’s statement that they had a robust security operation in order to ensure the safety of everyone at the count, or Farage’s own statement that he’d be “damned if I’m going to stand on a stage … and be demeaned and humiliated by nobodies”.

The truth is likely that Farage didn’t bother showing because any victory speech on a platform devoid of any other mainstream candidates would only further underline what a farcical stunt this by-election was. Farage’s political strategy in calling it was to evade scrutiny by the parliamentary standards commissioner over the £5m gift he received before the election, which he failed to declare as a new MP, and to show that the voters of Clacton backed him despite huge question marks hanging over him on this and other undeclared donations. He would say job done: he increased his vote by just over 1,000 votes on the 2024 general election. But this was in a by-election where no party ran against him in order to avoid legitimising his stunt, and where his main rival was Count Binface, who managed to score a respectable 27 per cent of the vote.

So the voters of Clacton re-elected him. So what? Clacton is one of the most pro-Reform constituencies in the country. What matters to Farage’s stated ambition of being prime minister is what voters right across the UK make of him and Reform UK. And all the evidence suggests he and his party are in trouble.

Reform UK peaked in the polls last autumn; its support has trailed off since then, and since Andy Burnham took over as prime minister, it has lost its poll lead altogether. Even at its peak, the party was not garnering enough support from voters to deliver it a majority at a general election. The challenge for Farage was always going to be whether he could broaden Reform’s appeal to capture more voters who would otherwise vote for the Conservatives or for Labour.

At this, Farage is failing miserably. In fact, he is now the most disliked political leader in the UK: in one recent YouGov poll, 65 per cent of voters said they don’t like him, compared to just 24 per cent who said they do. Yes, he can energise his base. But there are not enough of them to win him the election, and because he is so widely disliked, he also motivates people to vote for whichever candidate they think is best placed to beat Reform.

These levels of voter dislike are not surprising. Farage and other Reform leaders are increasingly coming across as petulant and whingy. He has morphed from the classic populist framing that posits the ordinary person as the victim of the establishment, into a framing where it is poor Reform MPs who are the injured party. But voters don’t want self-pitying victims as their leaders. Even as Reform politicians called for people to moderate their language in the wake of the horrific killing of Reform spokesperson Anne Widdecombe, Zia Yusuf labelled former Conservative defence secretary and soldier Ben Wallace a “traitor” on social media. Reform politicians constantly moan about being subject to the same levels of media scrutiny, for example on undeclared political donations, as other parties, and react angrily to tough questions in interviews. This schtick can only take them so far.

It is true that Labour is enjoying a honeymoon bounce as a result of Andy Burnham’s ascent to the premiership that may not last into the next few months. But there is no guarantee that Reform would be the beneficiary were Labour to slip in the polls. In fact, analysing Lord Ashcroft’s polling, the polling expert Peter Kellner says he believes that Reform’s support as measured in most polls is softer than that of other parties and may naturally dissipate somewhat ahead of an actual election when people are making a real choice about the next government.

And Kemi Badenoch’s Conservative Party could manoeuvre itself into mopping up wavering Reform UK voters ahead of a general election. There are those who believe talk of a “Keminaissance” is to exaggerate how the Conservatives are doing: they comfortably lag in third place in the vast majority of polls. Voters are not yet ready to forgive the Tories the terrible governing record that saw many desert them in 2024. But Badenoch is significantly outperforming the Conservative brand. Almost 40 per cent of the British public now think she is doing well as leader – up from just 15 per cent last October – and 53 per cent of Reform voters have a favourable view of her, up 20 points from then. If the Conservatives manage to overtake Reform in the run-up to the next election, Farage’s dreams of becoming prime minister are highly likely to be all but over.

Farage isn’t stupid. He knows this. And he also knows he may well face another Clacton by-election if the parliamentary standards commissioner finds against him, and he is suspended from the Commons for more than the 10 days that would trigger a recall petition. The word in Westminster is that he had to be persuaded to return to frontline British politics as the Reform UK leader before the 2024 election, and that he may not be enjoying the role; his bad-tempered outings in recent weeks would certainly hint at that. So perhaps another by-election would be the moment we see him flounce out of politics, and not for the first time. In the meantime, we can leave him to enjoy his glorious victory against a bin.

Owen Jones writes:

Nigel Farage is a rattled, embattled politician. Perhaps he feels buoyed up by securing slightly more votes in a byelection boycotted by all the main parties than he did in the general election two years ago. That was despite 10,000 fewer people turning out to vote. But there was never any question that he was going to win a byelection he called purely to deflect scrutiny of his undeclared £5m personal gift from a Thai-based crypto-billionaire and donations from a convicted fraudster.

Farage chose Clacton as his parliamentary launchpad for a reason. It was here that his previous outfit, Ukip, secured its breakthrough in the byelection of 2014. It is one of the most pro-leave seats in Britain, while Electoral Calculus estimates that almost no other constituency is this rightwing.

When I visited, I found no shortage of voters who were defiant about Farage’s scandals. They saw no problem with a politician being showered with dosh by a foreign-based billionaire, arguing that Farage deserved it because he was a “nice man” and even suggesting he might invest it locally. They bought the narrative that the establishment was out to get their man, as if a millionaire ex-City broker who is a sometime friend of the US president is some plucky outsider.

They are representative of about a fifth of the country who laud Farage as the mainstream politician most hostile to immigration, and who are contemptuous of a Conservative party that failed even on its own terms in office. What should concern Farage, however, is that most Britons are more opposed to him than ever, and are determined to block him from power. That majority delivered victory to the Greens in February’s Gorton and Denton byelection, and to Andy Burnham in June’s Makerfield byelection.

That the parody candidate Count Binface won more than a quarter of the vote in this ultra-rightwing heartland is a warning in itself. Yes, this “independent space warrior” secured plenty of media attention, but he had precious little ground game – that is, an army of volunteers to get out the vote. Many voters I spoke to hadn’t even heard of him. It seems plausible that some of those who made Count Binface the most successful joke candidate in history had previously voted not just Labour, Lib Dem or Green, but Conservative too.

Farage refused to attend the official declaration of this election he chose to call. That suggests not just petulance and contempt for his own voters, but the insecurities of a jittery man. He claims Essex police had told him about an “organised campaign to disrupt and degrade the result”, but the local force said there had been no “incidents or issues” related to the byelection and that attendance was up to candidates. And did Farage not claim that his £5m personal gift was needed to pay for his security?

The explanation is probably more mundane. Being mocked on stage by a man in a bin does not exactly provide the optics of a heroic struggle against the establishment.

What next for the Farage show? If he thought the byelection was an effective ruse to deflect from his money issues, reality caught up with him quickly. The parliamentary watchdog has now reopened its investigation into Farage’s gift and donations, and another byelection may be forced if there is an adverse ruling.

But it is not just finances that have plunged Reform UK into crisis. Farage’s proud association with Donald Trump – toxic even to most Reform voters – has become an ever greater drag. Absorbing so many former Conservatives was surely another big error. The last government was bitterly rejected for a reason, not least by Farage’s own supporters, and filling Reform’s ranks with its former leading lights hardly helped the party’s anti-establishment pretences.

And then there is the pivot to ever more toxic rightwing politics, perhaps partly driven by pressure from the even further right Restore Britain, founded by the former Reform MP Rupert Lowe. Farage now talks of “anti-white discrimination” – rhetoric once confined to the ugliest reaches of the far right. His talk of “pure cold rage” after the conviction of Henry Nowak’s murder – just hours before riots over it – rightly disturbed many.

Then there’s Zia Yusuf, his home affairs spokesperson, whose increasingly aggressive social media posts speak to Reform’s authoritarian underbelly. Yusuf repeatedly describes his opponents as “traitors” – his latest target was the Tory former defence secretary Ben Wallace – and threatens that an unspecific “reckoning is coming”.

All of this alarms most Britons, who have concluded that Reform must be kept from power and will vote tactically if needs be. Yet this is of scant comfort to the absurdly underscrutinised Tory leader, Kemi Badenoch, because Reform’s hardened core shows no interest in returning to her camp. Rightwing Britain, then, is divided.

It would be a mistake to write Farage off, however. We are in the midst of the Andy Burnham bounce. Voters are relieved to be rid of Keir Starmer, and for now Labour is tempting back some progressive voters who defected to the Greens. But Burnham has yet to be forced into many big decisions. Britain’s economic plight, its crisis-stricken public services and Burnham’s slowness to hike taxes on the booming rich could all come to a head in October’s budget. Disillusionment could swell, and Reform could benefit – unless, of course, Burnham calls a snap election first.

But you have to ask whether Farage’s heart is really in this. Reports that he received his £5m gift after saying he would need “a million a year” to serve as an MP are telling. Here is a man who appears to enjoy the high life and feel parliamentary politics damages his earning potential. He seems increasingly riled by the sort of scrutiny he has long managed to avoid. Perhaps, after a pointless triumph over a bin, he may simply decide he has had enough.

And the Morning Star puts things in perspective:

Petulant, self-pitying and dishonest: Nigel Farage’s reaction to his victory in the Clacton by-election suggests his gamble has backfired on him.

He talks airily of his “resounding victory,” but avoided the count with a resentful sneer (he was not going to stand on a stage and be “humiliated by nobodies”) and an apparent untruth (that he was advised by Essex Police not to attend for his own safety, a claim the force appears to contradict). Reform also cancelled a planned speech by its leader in the town.

He forced this election, and now he wants no association with it. He used the voters of Clacton as a prop in a stunt designed to take the heat off over investigations into his murky finances, and cannot even be bothered to address them on the result. If he really believed this showed an “overwhelming” endorsement of him personally (as he says) he would be standing with the people who elected him and defying Westminster from some sort of victory rally, not scurrying away.

Farage’s sulk is linked to the gloomy knowledge that his re-election proves nothing and solves nothing, since he was not up against any serious candidates. 

He returns to Parliament and its investigation into whether he should have declared the £5 million gifted him by Thai-based millionaire Christopher Harborne, while other probes rumble on into his receipt of hundreds of thousands of pounds linked to convicted fraudster George Cottrell and his mother. The stench of dodgy donors may cling to Farage from now on, and it seriously undermines his self-presentation as a man of the people taking on the Establishment.

So far so good. But it is also true that the Clacton by-election “proves nothing and solves nothing” for the socialist and anti-racist left. 

Yes, Count Binface winning nearly 10,000 votes is mildly embarrassing for Farage, but given the comedy candidate became the sole high-profile anti-Reform option it is not a huge surprise either.

Farage’s comfortable majority of 63 per cent was on a relatively high turnout for a by-election, and the number of votes cast for him was slightly higher than at the general election: there is no indication that support for Reform in the constituency has shrunk.

Nationally, while Reform has lost some ground in opinion polls and Labour has gained some since installing Andy Burnham as PM, the shifts are not dramatic and Burnham’s failure to match promises of change with serious policy shifts will begin to tell unless the labour movement can force the government in a more radical direction.

The Tories have also gained as Reform has retreated, and the two right-wing parties combined on current polling dwarf the Labour vote.

Most of what passes as political analysis in Establishment media focuses purely on electoral outcomes, and is likely to ponder the likelihood or not of a pact between the big right-wing parties.

That’s a potential threat, but the serious left needs to face deeper problems.

The scale of support for a political right whose main calling cards are xenophobia and racism — witness the Conservatives’ recent pledge to bar foreign nationals from council housing, the shortage of which is overwhelmingly their own party’s fault — is already having toxic political and social effects.

It sets the tone on all immigration debate, with Labour not showing any sign of retreating from Shabana Mahmood’s attacks on immigrant workers or refugees.

And it is normalising the racism we are increasingly seeing expressed in abuse and assaults, including on people at work doing their jobs, from retail to transport to the NHS.

So there is no room for complacency. The hard right has not been defeated in Clacton — in fact it was never even taken on.

Credible Threat?

Congratulations are of course in order, but it would have been harder for Nigel Farage to have lost at Clacton. This time. The Parliamentary Commissioner for Standards has reopened his investigation.

Lee Anderson has given a car crash interview to the BBC’s Charlie Stayt, and Richard Tice has given another to LBC’s Nick Ferrari, yet Farage’s and Anderson’s GB News colleague, Christopher Hope, has just tweeted: “I can confirm Essex Police were in touch with Nigel Farage’s office yesterday about a threat to him at the count but did NOT say he should not attend. That decision was taken by him.”

Still, Farage Fest or Clactonbury was a sign of times, and the surprise would have been if Farage had not intended to make it an annual event, since he never misses an opportunity to cash in. His following is becoming its own parallel popular culture. But while it had much closer ties to the main one, very largely so did Corbynism. Where is that now?

Gift Aid?

“The first Islamic Republic to have nuclear weapons is the Islamic Republic of Britain,” says Benjamin Netanyahu, whom we arm, to whom we provide nightly intelligence free of charge, who murders our unarmed veterans delivering aid, who is poised to recognise Argentine sovereignty over the Falkland Islands, whose critics we jail as terrorists pretty much for breathing in public, on whose behalf we have thrown one our own most distinguished lawyers under the bus, and whom we indulge to the extent of which Martin Williams writes:

British taxpayers funded “therapeutic healing” for Israeli soldiers who fought in Gaza, Declassified can reveal.

An Israeli organisation received the undisclosed sum via a UK charity, with 25% Gift Aid added on by the British government.

Emails obtained by Declassified show how the Yahalom Foundation – an Israeli veterans group – tells British supporters to channel their donations via its “registered partner platform in the UK”.

“Processing your donation through them ensures you receive full tax recognition and enabled Gift Aid, maximising the impact of your contribution,” it says.

“100% of your gift is routed directly to Yahalom to support our core mission.”

The Yahalom Foundation directs British supporters to a list of fundraising projects for Israel Defence Forces (IDF) veterans, claiming that donations would be eligible for the tax subsidy.

The list includes funding a £5,000 “therapeutic healing journey” for soldiers returning from Gaza, as well as “individual psychological treatments”.

The foundation is also raising money for a £100,000 memorial hall to commemorate fallen Israeli soldiers.

Additional records from two years ago show that British donations were made to fund equipment for serving Israeli soldiers – although it is not clear whether Gift Aid was added to these.

A fundraising page said: “With your help we can buy more specialized equipment and supply it to our soldiers.”

The Charity Commission has previously warned: “It is not lawful, or acceptable, for a charity to raise funds to support a soldier of a foreign military.”

‘Family of warriors’

Trained in explosives and “destroying terror tunnels”, Yahalom is the IDF’s elite engineering unit. It has had a key role in the Gaza genocide, with the destruction of civilian infrastructure.

“The Yahalom Unit is deployed everywhere in the Gaza Strip,” an IDF spokesperson has said, while one of the unit’s soldiers has spoken publicly about blowing up buildings in Gaza and operating in Palestinian hospitals.

Troops and veterans of the unit are supported by the Yahalom Foundation, which aims to be an “anchor” for Yahalom’s “family of warriors”.

As a foreign organisation, the Yahalom Foundation cannot directly benefit from UK Gift Aid.

But emails from the foundation’s Head of Fundraising suggest that a British charity called UK Toremet acts as a conduit for Gift Aid donations.

“UK Toremet is our registered partner platform in the UK that processes donations on our behalf,” the email said.

“Because UK Toremet is a registered UK charity, processing your donation through them ensures you receive full tax recognition and enabled Gift Aid, maximising the impact of your contribution.”

PTSD

Responding to Declassified’s investigation, UK Toremet confirmed it had given money to the Yahalom Foundation for “the provision of PTSD treatment to the association’s beneficiaries”.

It claimed: “UK Toremet’s monitoring of its grant to the Yahalom Foundation has confirmed that the funds were applied exclusively to the restricted purpose for which they were given.”

Toremet’s spokesman added: “The provision of mental-health treatment to an individual is welfare and medical relief, charitable under English law.”

The charity also denied being Yahalom Foundation’s “partner platform”, saying this description was “not accurate”. The trustees said they would “follow up with the Yahalom Foundation regarding its wording”.

A statement from UK Toremet added: “A donor may recommend a cause of their choosing; the trustees then assess, thoroughly but solely, whether a grant to that cause would be compliant with English charity and tax law.”

But the charity’s claims are at odds with those of the Yahalom Foundation, who say that “100%” of donations are “routed directly to Yahalom” to support its core mission.

And while UK Toremet claimed that Yahalom Foundation is merely an “alumni association” for IDF veterans, the foundation’s own website says it is dedicated to soldiers “who have served and are currently serving”.

Our findings follow the Charity Commission announcement last week that it had launched an inquiry into eight British charities working in illegal Israeli settlements. The regulator said it would examine whether funds are being used to further charitable purposes.

When questioned by Declassified, UK Toremet refused to confirm whether it is among those being investigated.

However, a spokesperson for the regulator said the inquiry followed “serious allegations” about “operating in illegal Israeli settlements in Palestine”.

“All charities must be able to demonstrate that they are delivering on their charitable purposes, wherever in the world they operate and whatever they do,” they added.

UK Toremet

Declassified’s findings mark the latest in a string of controversies surrounding UK Toremet.

The charity was founded by Jonny Cline, a Briton who emigrated to Israel where he reportedly stood as a candidate for Jewish Home, which the BBC has called a “far-right” party, and was a spokesman for an illegal West Bank settlement.

In June, Labour MP Melanie Ward spoke out about UK Toremet, saying it was one of two British groups that had donated a combined £28m to illegal Israeli settlements.

Ward said that, if gift aid were claimed against the donations, it would mean British taxpayers had added £5.6m to the funding.

Her intervention followed Declassified’s investigation earlier this year which revealed how another Israeli charity, Shivat Zion, had invited supporters to claim UK Gift Aid when making donations, saying the money would “go through” UK Toremet.

Our undercover investigation revealed how Shivat Zion offered to help British citizens move to an illegal settlement in the West Bank, describing it as “awesome”.

Last year, The Guardian also alleged that UK Toremet had acted as a conduit for another charity, transferring approximately £5.7m to a high school in an Israeli settlement in the West Bank.

The Guardian said this had been done with the “endorsement” of the Charity Commission, who described the funding as “legitimate”.

More recently, an Al Jazeera documentary investigating UK complicity in settler violence drew links between UK Toremet and Regavim, an extremist pro-settler group that has been sanctioned by the EU for supporting the destruction of Palestinian homes.

In the documentary, Regavim’s international director, Naomi Linder Kahn, is secretly filmed saying: “We work through UK Toremet”.

Kahn explains: “UK Toremet donates to an Israeli charity called – it’s a sister organisation – called Giving. And Giving donated directly to us. That way, it doesn’t appear anywhere on the records of your family, or individuals, or organisations, or even UK Toremet, that they have donated to Regavim.” 

She added: “There’s no paper trail… There’s no actual connection between Regavim and any UK charity.”

The documentary also linked UK Toremet to Ateret Cohanim, an Israeli organisation that buys “ideological real estate” for illegal settlers. 

Its director, Daniel Luria, is filmed admitting that the group subsidises guns. “This is all about Jewish sovereignty,” he says. 

In a subsequent email, Luria claimed that UK Toremet had previously been used to “successfully transfer funds to us from the UK”, adding: “It was sent to our ‘sister’ non profit org under our auspices.” 

Meanwhile, UK Toremet has insisted that it operates fully within UK charity law. “UK Toremet’s grant-making, due-diligence and monitoring policies were developed with specialist legal advisers,” it told Declassified. 

But since 2016, the Charity Commission has undertaken three separate regulatory compliance cases about UK Toremet’s work in Palestine. The charity’s trustees were also issued with statutory guidance and an action plan, which warned it must comply with the Geneva Conventions Act 1957.

A spokesperson said the Charity Commission has also “communicated to the trustees the Government’s position that construction of settlements in Palestine is illegal under international law”. 

Reacting to our investigation into the Yahalom Foundation, Gearóid Ó Cuinn, director of the Global Legal Action Network (GLAN), told Declassified that this appeared to be “another instance of the UK failing to abide by clear obligations under international law to stamp out financial links to international abuses. 

“The UK is not only dragging its feet on the ban on illegal settlement goods imports, but now there is serious concern that public gift aid funds could be used to support Israeli soldiers who have been committing genocide in Gaza and war crimes in the West Bank.” 

When questioned by Declassified, a spokesperson for HMRC, which is responsible for Gift Aid, declined to comment, saying that confidentiality rules prevented them from discussing the tax affairs of charities. 

The Yahalom Foundation did not respond to Declassified’s request for comment.

Taking Over The Asylum

How does anyone know that a particular local authority area contained no illegal immigrants? But of the 40 councils that were housing no asylum seekers, only five are even Labour-led, with numerous having no Labour councillors at all. “Move them in next door to you,” indeed.

Each of those areas may look forward to at least one of Edwina Currie’s brothels, each of which should be presided over by the character of Madam Edwina, who would of course be a man. Since there cannot be a “free” market in any of goods, services, capital or labour (i.e., people) unless there were a “free” market in all of them, then there must not be a “free” market in any of them, which is a political choice, not a law of nature. And since there cannot be a “free” market in general, but not in drugs, or prostitution, or pornography, or unrestricted alcohol, or unrestricted gambling, then there must not be a “free” market in general, which is a political choice, not a law of nature.

Snarling and spitting the contrary is Anna Turley, the last of the Hilary Armstrong Information Exchange, whose persistence in government, even if her demotion would rather suggest that she was going to be sacked next time, is a significant mark against Andy Burnham. But while it seems to have gone by the by that I used to be quite widely known as Speedboat, Let’s have a look at what you could have won, there are still those who call me The Cockroach because I would survive a nuclear war, so I welcomed the success of the Cockroach Janata Party in securing the resignation of Dharmendra Pradhan. That was a victory for cockroaches everywhere, our biggest since we outlived Alexei Navalny, whose proxy Nobel Laureate, Dmitry Muratov, is being fawned over by the BBC. Turley and her rabble will be a doddle.