One of the awful strategic errors a left-wing force can make is to adopt the discourse of the far right, even in the hope of neutralising reactionary sentiments present in specific popular sectors. The reality is that this tactic usually fails: those who already sympathise with xenophobic positions will not switch sides, and progressive voters become demobilised when they see their political representatives abandoning their fundamental principles.
There are plenty of precedents. The recent case in Germany, where the SPD and the Greens toughened their stance on migration in an attempt to halt the rise of Alternative für Deutschland (AfD), only served to consolidate the far-right narrative. Yet, the new British Labour government, led by Keir Starmer, seems determined to make the same mistake. Following the recent local elections, Labour has chosen to copy the nationalist discourse that blames immigrants for nearly every problem. This is not just a rhetorical concession: they have announced new restrictions on legal immigration, in a clumsy attempt to reconnect with disenchanted sectors.
The new Labour anti-immigration project may not be as crudely hostile as the policies previously enacted by the Tories, but its underlying logic is not substantially different. What is most worrying is that Starmer, a human rights lawyer, cannot claim ignorance. I am convinced that he fully understands the suffering and hardship endured by most immigrants who come to the UK in search of a better life, which, incidentally, contributes to the country's prosperity. Starmer’s move is therefore deliberate, tactical, and profoundly mistaken.
The cultural backdrop is well known. Part of British society remains anchored in an idealised nostalgia for its imperial and Keynesian-Fordist past, when welfare seemed reserved for the white working class. That distorted vision—because there was always intense conflict, poverty, and inequality—is projected onto the present with a mix of anxiety and insecurity. Some aspects of British politics date back to Brexit and even the loss of global status in the 20th century, but there are also elements common to what is happening worldwide. A part of society is fearful of the future, but stepping into the same mental frame only serves to reinforce the problem.
After a decade of far-right growth, few things are clearer than the fact that when emotions—especially fear—dominate public debate, reproducing the far right’s framing only legitimises it. Labour now finds itself not only trying to ride out its contradictions, attempting to convince its progressive voters that this makes some sense, but also entangled in media narratives that speak negatively about immigration, thus reinforcing the widespread perception that it is a significant societal problem. I’ve said it before: in Spain, concern about immigration always rises in proportion to the number of times certain politicians go to the border to take photos. In 2018, my wife and I were assaulted by a man who shouted, “Take them into your house,” and in court, he admitted he was fired up after watching TV reports that the country was being “invaded.” At that time, Pablo Casado and Albert Rivera (the leaders of the main conservative parties) were competing daily to see who could say the most outrageous thing at the Melilla border fence.
This is not a rational debate, as should be clear to everyone by now. It’s a classic nationalist tactic that turns anecdote into a general rule and sidesteps all rigorous data that could be provided. The truth is quite different. For example, one in every three doctors in the UK’s National Health Service (NHS) is an immigrant. Far from being a threat, immigration has proven to be a driver of wealth, social cohesion, and economic sustainability—not only in the UK, but in all developed countries. Yet such facts vanish when fear-based narratives take hold.
Last week, I was fortunate enough to attend a performance of 14.4, a play directed by Sergio Peris Mencheta and Juan Diego Botto and masterfully performed by Ahmed Younoussi. The story is Ahmed’s own: as a child, after several life-threatening attempts, he made it to Spain from Morocco. Unlike some of his friends, Ahmed survived the Mediterranean crossing, but still faces the ever-present border of racism. At the end of the play, the long applause recognised not only the quality of the performance but also the injustices faced by those who migrate in search of a better life. Empathy and humanity were felt by an audience of perhaps six hundred people, hardly comparable to the millions bombarded daily with xenophobic and inhumane messages in the media and on social media.
Indeed, the reactionary wave is not explained solely by structural racism, but also by social anxiety amplified by the media and digital platforms. Cases like that of X (formerly Twitter), run by Elon Musk, demonstrate that tech actors with explicitly reactionary agendas are intervening in national politics by spreading fear, often through lies and disinformation. X is a window into a world of hatred, violence, and terror. It is not reality, but sheer reactionary propaganda.
What can the left do? We’ve learned by now that improving material conditions is not enough to stop the rise of reactionary politics, but it would be naive to think it can be done without that. Let’s not forget that these Labour anti-immigration reforms come alongside pension cuts and other reductions in public services under Starmer’s government. A glance suggests that there’s not a single progressive element in the new government. And without a doubt, a society plagued by precarity, loneliness, and frustration is fertile ground for authoritarianism. Addressing those deep-rooted issues won’t solve the problem outright, but it helps make it more manageable. In my view, the left will not defeat the monster by becoming a copy of it. On the contrary, it only stands a chance if it stays true to its principles and dares to confront the powerful, not the poor.