Britain and the Politics of Tolerance in an Age of Populism

Wednesday 18 February 2026

For centuries Britain has cultivated a reputation — sometimes earned, sometimes exaggerated — as a polity defined less by blood and soil than by institutions and habit. She has absorbed Huguenots and Jews, Irish labourers and Caribbean nurses, South Asian shopkeepers and African students. Her empire scattered peoples across the globe; its dissolution brought many of them back. The British story, at least in its self-presentation, has been one of gradual accommodation — of friction, certainly, but also of pragmatic coexistence.

Yet in recent years there has been a pervasive anxiety that this reputation for tolerance is fraying. The rise of populist rhetoric, sharpened debates over immigration, and the politics of cultural grievance have prompted a searching question: is Britain’s traditional culture of diversity being undermined by contemporary populism — and if so, what might be done?

To address that question one must first disentangle myth from reality. Britain has never been uniformly tolerant. Anti-Catholicism, imperial racism and periodic hostility towards migrants were deeply embedded in her history. The Notting Hill disturbances of 1958 and the rhetoric surrounding Enoch Powell’s “Rivers of Blood” speech in 1968 are reminders that the accommodation of diversity was neither automatic nor uncontested. What distinguished Britain, however, was not the absence of prejudice but the relative resilience of her institutions. Parliament, the common law, an independent judiciary and a free press created channels through which social conflict could be negotiated without systemic collapse.

The contemporary populist turn — expressed most dramatically in the referendum that led to Brexit — did not invent cultural anxiety. Rather, it channelled it. Parties such as the UK Independence Party (later to become Reform UK) and figures within the Conservative Party transformed long-standing concerns about sovereignty and immigration into a broader narrative of national reclamation. The European Union became a symbol — in some eyes — of bureaucratic overreach and demographic change beyond democratic control.

The referendum campaign of 2016, culminating in the decision to leave the European Union, was not exclusively about migration. Yet migration lay at its emotional core. The promise to “take back control” resonated in communities that felt economically marginalised and culturally dislocated. Subsequent political turbulence — leadership changes, constitutional wrangling, trade renegotiations — deepened a sense of national introspection.

Populism, by its nature, simplifies. It posits a virtuous people set against a corrupt elite, often with an implied outsider. In Britain’s case, the outsider has sometimes been the migrant, sometimes the Brussels technocrat, sometimes the metropolitan liberal. This rhetorical architecture can corrode a culture of tolerance even without explicit hostility. The cumulative effect is subtle: a narrowing of the imaginative space within which diversity is seen as compatible with national cohesion.

Yet it would be an exaggeration to suggest that Britain has succumbed to intolerance in any systemic sense. Her cities remain profoundly diverse; her legal framework continues to protect minority rights; her universities and industries are globally integrated. The armed forces, the civil service and the National Health Service are multi-ethnic institutions. Indeed the very debates about immigration are conducted within a framework that presumes the rule of law and electoral accountability.

The greater danger lies not in overt repression but in erosion — a gradual hardening of tone, a readiness to instrumentalise identity for electoral gain, a willingness to conflate cultural unease with civilisational threat. When politics becomes a competition in signalling toughness rather than solving structural problems — housing shortages, stagnant wages, strained public services — minorities may become convenient scapegoats for deeper policy failures.

Britain’s traditional tolerance has always been pragmatic rather than ideological. She did not embrace diversity out of abstract moralism but because commerce, empire and industrialisation made it unavoidable. The City of London flourished because it was open. Universities thrived because they attracted global talent. Even the monarchy has evolved symbolically to reflect a multi-faith, multi-ethnic society. If populism threatens this pragmatism, it does so by substituting symbolic gestures for economic realism.

What then is to be done?

First, economic grievances must be addressed directly. Populism flourishes where inequality festers. Regions that feel excluded from prosperity are more susceptible to narratives of cultural loss. Levelling-up cannot be a slogan; it must entail genuine investment in infrastructure, education and regional industry. When communities perceive tangible improvement in living standards, the appeal of divisive rhetoric diminishes.

Secondly, political leadership matters. Statesmanship requires resisting the temptation to harvest short-term advantage from cultural polarisation. Britain’s parliamentary tradition, at its best, prizes debate without dehumanisation. Reinforcing that norm — through responsible media practice and party discipline — is essential. Tolerance is sustained less by law than by tone.

Thirdly, integration policies must move beyond abstraction. Language acquisition, civic education and equitable access to employment foster a sense of shared belonging. Diversity is most secure when it is accompanied by social mobility. Where communities live parallel lives, suspicion flourishes; where they interact in workplaces, schools and voluntary associations, mutual understanding tends to follow.

Finally, Britain might recall that her national identity has always been hybrid. The common law evolved through centuries of external influence; her literature and music are replete with global borrowings; her cuisine is an archive of empire. To present homogeneity as authenticity is to misread her own history.

The tension between populism and tolerance is not unique to Britain. Across Europe and North America similar currents are visible. The distinctive British question is whether her institutional inheritance — parliamentary sovereignty, an unwritten constitution, a deeply rooted civil society — is robust enough to absorb populist waves without sacrificing pluralism.

There are grounds for cautious optimism. Britain has endured religious wars, imperial decline and industrial upheaval without relinquishing her core constitutional culture. Populism, too, may prove a phase rather than a permanent transformation. Yet complacency would be misplaced. Tolerance is not a static achievement; it is a practice renewed daily through law, policy and civic conduct.

If Britain’s reputation for diversity is being tested, it is not yet extinguished. The remedy lies not in suppressing political dissent but in elevating it — grounding debates about migration and sovereignty in empirical evidence and humane language rather than fear. In doing so, Britain may rediscover that tolerance is not weakness but strength — not a concession to globalisation but a foundation of her own enduring resilience.