Calling Nigel Farage Racist Will Help Him Win in 2029

Throughout Nigel Farage’s political career, attempts to label him as a racist have been a consistent feature of his public life. Political figures, journalists, and activists have repeatedly described statements he has made as racist, especially when it comes to immigration.

The latest iteration of this trend has not focused on his political life but on his time as a schoolboy at Dulwich College. A recently published article in the Guardian has become a focal point of political discourse in Britain, alleging that a 13-year-old Farage tormented his Jewish classmate Peter Ettedgui. Ettedgui claims that Farage would sidle up to him and growl, “Hitler was right” or “Gas them”, sometimes adding a long hiss to simulate the sound of gas chambers. Other classmates quoted in the article state that they do not remember such incidents, although they recall Farage as “rude” and “provocative” at school. The allegations have led Keir Starmer to call for Farage to address them urgently.

These are not the first claims of this nature. In 2013, Channel 4 reportedly obtained a 1981 letter from Farage’s English teacher, Chloe Deakin, warning school leadership that he expressed “publicly professed racist and neo-fascist views” and sang Hitler Youth songs during a Cadet Force camp. Terry Walsh, deputy master at Dulwich during Farage’s time as a pupil, stated that Farage was well known for provoking people, especially left-wing English teachers whom he said had no sense of humour. Former master David Emms described Farage’s behaviour as “naughtiness, not racism”, adding that some staff were frustrated by his cheekiness and wanted him expelled.

The most obvious question is whether it is fair to judge a 61-year-old man by things he may or may not have said as a teenager. Many members of the public can undoubtedly recall saying or doing things at school that they would never condone as adults. By dragging up his school days, his critics risk generating sympathy or relatability rather than condemnation. It comes across as a politically motivated attempt at slander and one that is increasingly easy for the public to recognise. Considering Farage is a vocal supporter of Israel today, criticising the recognition of Palestine as a state, supporting weapons exports to Israel and denying that there is an ongoing genocide in Gaza, it is difficult to argue that he secretly harbours animosity towards Jewish people.

It is also striking that these allegations have resurfaced at particular political moments. The first wave of school-day racism claims emerged in 2013, just eight months after David Cameron promised a referendum on Britain’s EU membership in order to placate Eurosceptics in his own party. Farage is, of course, synonymous with the Vote Leave campaign and was even dubbed “Mr Brexit”. Now he appears to be on course to lead the largest party in the 2029 general election and could realistically become Prime Minister. For stories about events 45 years in the past, their timing seems rather convenient for his political opponents.

The accusations tie in well with the narrative crafted throughout Farage’s career, that he is secretly more racist than he lets on. But, as the word racist is used with increasing frequency, there has been a noticeable shift in how people respond. Fewer people try to defend themselves at length against the accusation. Instead, they focus on the issue being discussed and insist that the label is irrelevant to the substance of the debate. Similar to monetary inflation, frequency has caused devaluation. Such accusations no longer derail debate, as many people have grown impatient with these terms being used as social and reputational weapons against political opponents.

In some ways, being branded racist has become a rite of passage for public figures embraced by the political right across the Western world. Because such accusations are often made cheaply, many on the right treat them as a badge of honour that signals they have sufficiently ruffled the feathers of their opponents. This is not to say the right uses actual prejudice as an ingroup marker. Rather, being called racist by sections of the left, who have described everything from tennis to punctuality as racist, is now taken less seriously. The overuse of the term has made the left appear out-of-touch to many observers and their repeated use of the term only reinforces that perception.

Farage is not the only person to receive such treatment in his political career. US President Donald Trump has also undergone similar hostilities. Such comparisons are useful for predicting the future of British politics. Trump is now in his second term as president, and although Farage has not yet reached the British equivalent position, he appears to be on that path. Despite an overwhelmingly hostile media landscape in the United States, with ABC, NBC, and CBS’s coverage of Trump reportedly 92% negative, he won two elections. Many have argued that he partly benefited from the sheer volume of coverage, even when much of it was unfavourable. The saying that there is “no such thing as bad press” may contain more truth than people assume. A similar dynamic may emerge in Britain, where the more the press describes Farage as dangerous, racist, or secretly fascist, the more the public hears his name and the more likely they are to vote for him.

There is also an additional and often overlooked element. Among the right, accusations of racism often make a politician appear more radical than they actually are. Both Trump and Farage have been called every epithet available, yet neither comes from a political tradition outside the mainstream. Before entering politics, Trump aligned more closely with the typical 1990s New York Democrat and donated generously to Democratic candidates. If anything, his politics changed far less than the political landscape did. Today, the MAGA movement shares more policy overlap with the Bill Clinton era than many people realise.

Most people do not assess a politician’s policies objectively but rely on instincts or prevailing narratives. Farage’s politics largely resemble the neoliberalism of Margaret Thatcher, a figure he openly admires. Yet rhetoric surrounding his possible premiership often frames him as a threat to democracy, a racist, or even a fascist, a portrayal that is obviously at odds with his actual policy positions. This rhetoric creates the illusion that he is more radical, and that illusion may in fact benefit him.

One reason Conservative Party support collapsed and was absorbed by Reform is the perception of betrayal on immigration. The Conservatives promised to reduce net migration to the tens of thousands and instead oversaw the highest levels in British history. These voters now want a party they believe will keep its promises. Farage is the politician most associated with tackling immigration, an issue that consistently ranks among the most important in public opinion polls. For many voters, if the choice is between living in a country that feels increasingly dangerous while becoming ever more expensive, or being called an ever more diluted epithet, they will likely choose the latter and vote for Reform.

When the left calls Nigel Farage racist, they are no longer damaging his reputation. They are helping him. Not only do they weaken their own credibility, but they also contribute to the impression that Farage is more radical than he actually is. A significant portion of the British public is desperate for sweeping changes to the immigration system, and by making him appear more radical than he is, critics only galvanise support for Reform. It may prove to be a contributing factor to Nigel Farage becoming Prime Minister in 2029.