Article by Ethan Shone republished from OpenDemocracy under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International licence.
From banned reporters to love-ins with business, the scandal-hit event offers troubling glimpse into a Farage government
You look like a man in the market for some gold bullion?” My first interaction at last year’s Reform conference was an unconventional one. By the end of the day I’d been treated to a fevered performance by two of the original members of the Jackson Five – ushered onto the stage by an ebullient Nigel Farage – and witnessed a man being forcibly ejected after a fracas in the foyer of a gaudy rooftop bar concerning former Conservative MP Gary Sambrook – he of ‘big dinners’ fame.
In between, I’d attended a seminar hosted by the Antisemitism Policy Trust about the dangers of conspiracy theories, before having a long conversation with a woman who explained that she has long campaigned for Faragist parties and has a particular interest in banning non-stun slaughter, but that her campaigning efforts had always been hampered by “Nigel’s Jewish donors”.
Who knows what I missed out on this time around: openDemocracy’s application for media accreditation to this year’s conference was denied, along with those of dozens of other journalists. They include Anna Isaac, the Guardian’s City editor who broke the story of Farage’s undeclared £5m donation, veteran broadcaster Michael Crick, and Peter ‘formerly-of-this-parish’ Geoghegan – all of whom have reported critically, but not inaccurately, on Reform, and none of whom could reasonably be accused of partisanship.
So, too, for us. Last year I was among the first reporters to raise concerns about convicted fraudster George Cottrell’s relationship to Nigel Farage after he set up a financially opaque company, and I’ve covered the party’s fruitful attempts to forge ties with big business. Yet I suspect I was ultimately ‘punished’ for my intrepid colleague Sian Norris’ reporting on Cottrell and the network of Montenegro-based companies connecting him and several leading figures in the party.
Reform has said it approved the vast majority of media applications. Still, it is not generally the done thing for mainstream political parties in the UK to bar even perceivedly hostile journalists from their annual conferences. And despite its recent polling dip, Reform is very much still a mainstream political party in terms of support. The party was higher in the polls this time last year, but has fallen behind Labour only in the last few months; a collated ‘poll of polls’ conducted throughout August suggests that a minority Reform administration is the second most likely outcome at the next election (17%), after a Labour minority (46%), but marginally ahead of a Labour majority (16%).
To my mind, barring journalists feels like an easy way to guarantee negative headlines that detract from your party’s talking points on the first day of conference, and for very little upside. My confusion over why Reform had even bothered with this was assuaged on Thursday evening by the airing of a bombshell undercover investigation into the party’s fundraising operations on Channel 4 – it became clear the party had much more pressing concerns.
While Reform has issued denials and attempted to smear the journalists involved in the sting operation as partisan activists, two of the party’s senior aides have fallen on their swords, including a longtime close confidant of Farage, Dan Jukes. Party outriders are desperately trying to present a united front and say they believe the documentary won’t register much with the public outside SW1, but there are signs – including calls for change from longtime Reform allies – that this latest scandal in a long line of them may do significant damage.
Of course, refusing to a few dozen journalists access to your conference is not an especially egregious attack on press freedoms, even if it does signal a worrying attitude toward scrutiny – albeit not an entirely surprising one; the project has long aped that aspect of Trumpism. The allegations broadcast to the nation on Thursday evening, on the other hand, do qualify as egregious. But history suggests a political party can survive after being caught taking money it perhaps shouldn’t have or seeking to hide donations from public scrutiny. Of more concern should be the hundreds of lobbyists who arrived in Birmingham on Thursday morning for the party’s inaugural business day, where they hosted policy discussions and drinks receptions and client roundtables, all aimed at shaping the agenda of a potential government-in-waiting.
Their presence makes clear that businesses that initially maintained a cautious distance from Reform now clearly see it as a potential partner. This has not happened by accident. The party has put significant resources into its courtship of the business community, and has sanded off the economically populist edges of its platform in order to win over this key constituency.
Even when Reform acts out, there is a sense that its rhetoric is largely for show or that any dispute can at least be quite easily ironed out. Why else would Vodafone – whose executives the party’s spokesperson for home affairs, Zia Yusuf, threatened to hold “criminally liable” for “helping to facilitate the invasion of Britain” after the company donated SIM cards to a refugee charity – be sponsoring a panel discussion at the conference? Deliveroo, too, another company picked on by Yusuf, is dispatching a team of senior lobbyists to the conference to smooth things over.
The business community’s willingness to go along with the unconventional, the repressive and the dangerous aspects of Reform’s agenda – just as they have done on the other side of the Atlantic with Donald Trump – in exchange for a seat at the table should worry us all.
Article by Ethan Shone republished from OpenDemocracy under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International licence.
