Listening to our working-class base

The British Left has a proud tradition of patriotic dissent—from Orwell’s wartime socialism to Tolpuddle. But today, institutional progressives risk alienating the very communities they claim to champion. As working-class people raise flags and grievances alike, it’s time for the Left to reclaim national pride as a language of solidarity—not suspicion.

I. The Working-Class Picket: Roar Without Response

In 2025, from Epping to Liverpool, working-class communities have taken to the streets—not out of hate, but out of hurt. The protests against asylum accommodation in local hotels weren’t orchestrated by the far-right. They were expressions of frustration: about safety, overstretched services, and decisions made without consultation.

Yes, some protests have attracted far-right figures. Their presence is real—but it is not a determining influence. To reduce every picket to a proxy for extremism is to ignore the deeper truth: these are communities speaking from lived experience, not ideological allegiance.

As a Left Nationalist, I believe that when working-class people speak, we must listen. Not excuse, not caricature—listen. These communities are not pawns of the far-right. They are citizens, neighbours, and workers who feel abandoned. Their anger is not about race—it’s about being ignored.

II. Operation Raise the Colours: Symbolism, Belonging, and the Battle for Meaning

The “Operation Raise the Colours” campaign—Union flags and St George’s crosses appearing on lamp-posts and roundabouts—was met with swift backlash in some quarters. Councils in Birmingham and Tower Hamlets vowed to remove the flags immediately, feeding a narrative that they were anti-English or anti-British. That response, however well-intentioned, risks deepening the divide.

Other councils have taken a more pragmatic approach: recognising that the flag, for many, is not a threat but a symbol of belonging. It’s a way of saying, “We are still here, and, we count.” Patriotism isn’t the sole property of the Right. It cuts across class and ideology. And when the Left refuses to engage with national identity, it cedes that terrain to those who would weaponise it.

III. Principled Protest: Peaceful, Lawful, and Grounded in Respect

Let me be clear: I oppose vandalism, including painting on street furniture. I reject any protest that turns aggressive or targets police or public workers. Drink and protest don’t mix. If we want to be heard, we must choose the peaceful path.

The strength of working-class protest lies in its moral clarity. When we allow frustration to spill into violence or intimidation, we undermine our own cause. The Left must champion peaceful dissent—not just in theory, but in practice.

IV. The Left’s Moral Gatekeeping: A Crisis of Connection

Platforms like Socialist Worker and Hope Not Hate have too often conflated flag-waving and protest with racism. But this is ideological gatekeeping. It demands that working-class anger be expressed in the correct dialect of progressive politics—or not at all.

This isn’t solidarity. It’s sermonising. And it leaves behind those whose politics are shaped not by theory, but by lived experience.

Worse still, counter-protests against pickets—however well-meaning—risk aligning the Left with the very institutions that working-class communities already distrust. Councils, police, and national charities are often seen not as allies, but as distant arbiters of policy imposed from above. When the Left stands shoulder-to-shoulder with these institutions in opposition to local protest, it forfeits its credibility as a voice of the people.

V. When the Left Sounds Like It Hates the Working Class

There’s a growing perception—especially outside metropolitan circles—that parts of the Left look down on the working class. Not just politically, but culturally. The disdain is subtle: mocking accents, sneering at patriotism, dismissing concerns as ignorance or bigotry. It’s the tone that says, “If you don’t speak use our nuspeak and use our tone, ,]you’re part of the problem.”

This isn’t universal, but it’s corrosive. It turns solidarity into suspicion. And it reinforces the idea that the Left is for everyone except the people who built its foundations.

The irony is painful. The Left was born in working men’s clubs, union halls, and strike committees. But today, some of its loudest voices seem more comfortable condemning than connecting. If we want to rebuild trust, we must start by respecting the dignity, intelligence, and agency of working-class people—even when their views challenge middle-class assumptions.

VI. Class vs. Identity: When Theory Collides with Reality

There’s a familiar refrain on the Left: “We should be arguing about class, not identity.” And in theory, it’s sound. Class cuts across race, nationality, and gender. It’s the foundation of solidarity. But in practice, this argument often collapses under the weight of lived experience.

For many working-class people, the issue isn’t abstract inequality—it’s the visible strain on local services. It’s the GP surgery that’s overbooked, the school place that’s unavailable, the housing list that never moves. And when resources are dwindling, the arrival of new claimants—however vulnerable—can feel like competition. Not because people are cruel, but because they’re desperate.

To say “we need more resources” is true, but insufficient. Those resources don’t look like they’re materialising. And when some appear to be given priority—whether it’s emergency housing, legal aid, or translation services—it breeds resentment. Not necessarily against migrants, but against a system that seems to reward visibility and victim status over tenure.

Then there’s the flashpoint of crime. Migrant crime is statistically low, but when it happens—especially in small towns—it reverberates. It becomes a symbol, not just of fear, but of institutional failure. And when the Left responds with blanket condemnation of those who raise concerns, it deepens the divide.

We must be able to talk about these things—openly, honestly, and without moral panic. Demonising people for having the “wrong” view doesn’t change minds. It entrenches them. And it aligns the Left with institutions that many working-class communities already distrust.

VII. Reclaiming Patriotism: Southgate, Bragg, and the Politics of Pride

Gareth Southgate’s quiet patriotism offers a model: grounded in family, service, and shared values. His 2021 letter “Dear England” spoke of unity, not uniformity. He didn’t weaponise the flag—he humanised it.

Billy Bragg’s progressive patriotism—loving one’s country enough to critique it—remains vital. But within the institutional Left, this stance is often treated with suspicion. It’s seen as a gateway to nationalism, rather than a bulwark against it.

Yet history tells a different story. George Orwell’s wartime socialism was fiercely patriotic. The Chartists, the Tolpuddle Martyrs, and the post-war Labour movement all understood that national identity could be a vessel for justice, not jingoism.

VIII. The Path Forward: Listening, Respecting, and Rebuilding Trust

The Left must reclaim patriotism—not as a tool of exclusion, but as a language of solidarity. It must recognise that national pride and class consciousness are not mutually exclusive. And it must stop treating working-class protest as a problem to be solved, rather than a message to be heard.

We don’t need to agree with every slogan, tactic or symbol. But we do need to understand where they come from. Because if the Left cannot speak to national identity, it cannot speak to the nation.

By Henry Falconer