From Limehouse to Left Populism: Why Corbyn’s New Party Feels Different

Last week, I wrote a general interest piece on the Corbyn–Sultana initiative to launch a new grassroots political party in the UK. After posting it, I realised I had a more personal connection, and a story worth telling.

I was there in 1981.

When the “Gang of Four” – Roy Jenkins, Shirley Williams, David Owen, and Bill Rodgers – strode out of Labour’s crumbling broad church and declared the need for a new political home, it felt like a break with the grey inevitability of two‑party Britain. Labour, under Michael Foot, was veering sharply left; the Conservatives, under Margaret Thatcher, were galloping into free‑market dogma. In between stood millions of voters – decent, pragmatic, social democrats, who wanted neither hard socialism nor hard monetarism.

Along with my girlfriend, I joined the Social Democratic Party because we thought it would be the vehicle for a new progressive realignment. The SDP promised modernisation, pro‑European internationalism, civil liberties, and a politics of reason over dogma. I chatted with David Owen when he visited Durham’s Student Union, and we discussed European integration and mixed economic models. We were going to break the mould.

Of course, the mould didn’t break.

The SDP, despite polling in the mid‑20s, was mugged by Britain’s electoral system. In 1983 we won 25% of the vote but just 23 seats. My girlfriend ran in that election as the SDP candidate in a London constituency and came in second. The Liberal Alliance gave us numbers, but also blurred the brand. By 1988, the merger into the Liberal Democrats marked the end of the experiment. David Owen kept a “continuing SDP” alive for a few more years, but it dwindled into irrelevance. The lesson seemed clear: you can’t break the mould if you can’t break first‑past‑the‑post.

Fast‑forward four decades.

Jeremy Corbyn, a figure I would once have dismissed as unelectable, has just launched a new left‑wing party with Zarah Sultana. The working title is “Your Party” –  a placeholder until the members choose the real name. It’s a start‑up political force aimed squarely at the people Starmer’s Labour has abandoned: young, working‑class voters, trade unionists, Muslim communities, tenants trapped by spiralling rents, and those appalled by Britain’s foreign policy silence over Gaza.

This is not a replay of the SDP. In fact, it is almost its mirror image. Where Owen’s SDP was a break from Labour’s leftward drift toward a moderate centre, Corbyn’s break is from Labour’s retreat to cautious centrism. The SDP sought to cool the fires of Bennite socialism; Corbyn wants to rekindle them, but with 21st century energy, and an unapologetic moral clarity.

The early signs suggest an appetite for it. Within hours of launch, the new party reportedly gained 80,000 sign‑ups. Early polling shows it could attract up to 10% of the national vote and, strikingly, over 30% of voters aged 18 to 24. That’s not a niche; that’s a generation.

The platform is unashamedly radical: public ownership of rail, mail, and energy; wealth taxes; rent controls; and a foreign policy grounded in human rights, starting with an arms embargo on Israel. It’s the politics Labour once flirted with under Corbyn’s own leadership but has now buried under Starmer’s managerialism.

Of course, the familiar spectre of the electoral system looms over this effort too. Under first‑past‑the‑post, 10% of the vote without concentrated geographic strength delivers little in the way of seats. The same mechanics that kneecapped the SDP will bite here as well. Worse, the vote‑splitting effect could deliver seats to the Conservatives or Reform UK that might otherwise go Labour.

This is the main line of attack from Starmer loyalists, that Corbyn is dividing the left and letting the right in. I’ve heard this argument before. In the early ’80s, Labour accused the SDP of doing Thatcher’s bidding. And yes, in some seats we did make a Tory win easier, but that’s the nature of political pluralism: no party owns your vote.

The truth is that Labour in both eras created the conditions for a breakaway. In 1981, Labour’s embrace of unilateralism, its hostility to Europe, and its tolerance of factional extremism drove moderates away. In 2025, Labour’s embrace of fiscal caution, its refusal to reverse austerity, and its complicity in moral abdications on foreign policy have alienated a swathe of the progressive left.

There’s also a difference in energy. The SDP’s strength came from defecting MPs and respected establishment figures. That gave us media credibility, but also made us a party of insiders in exile. Corbyn’s movement is almost the opposite: driven by grassroots organisers, youthful energy, and activist networks built over years in Momentum, trade unions, and anti‑war campaigns. He’s starting with a mass base the SDP never had.

That matters.

Politics in 2025 is not politics in 1981. Social media can turn a well‑phrased message into a viral moment that reaches millions without needing permission from Fleet Street. Independent fundraising platforms can keep a party afloat without deep‑pocket donors. Organised communities can be mobilised quickly in ways we could barely imagine in the early ’80s.

But the hurdles remain. Charisma and clarity are not enough. Organisation, discipline, and a credible electoral strategy are vital. The SDP faltered because we could not translate national polling into local machinery that could deliver seats. If Corbyn wants to avoid our fate, he will need to learn that lesson quickly, and perhaps swallow the bitter pill of electoral pacts with the Greens and others in key marginals.

What draws me, a lapsed social democrat, to this project is the moral clarity. The SDP believed in decency and moderation; Corbyn’s party believes in justice and equality. The former was about making the system work better; the latter is about making a different system altogether. In an age of deepening inequality, climate emergency, and political cynicism, moderation feels inadequate.

In 1981, I thought the centre could hold. In 2025, I’m no longer so sure. The forces pulling Britain apart are not ideological factions in parliament but the grinding realities of low pay, unaffordable housing, public services on their knees, and a political class that treats foreign policy as an exercise in selective morality.

So yes, I will be watching Corbyn’s new party with hope, and with the long memory of someone who’s seen idealism crash against electoral reality before. The challenge will be to harness the passion without losing strategic focus, to avoid the trap of purity politics that comforts the faithful but leaves power to the enemy.

The SDP set out to break the mould and failed. Corbyn’s party may be trying to remould it entirely. If he can unite the moral urgency of the left with the organisational savvy of a winning campaign, this time might be different. And after forty years, I’d like to think the mould is already cracking.

The Political Earthquake Few Saw Coming

The United Kingdom’s political landscape is about to receive its most significant jolt in years. Former Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn, alongside independent MP Zarah Sultana, has confirmed the launch of a new grassroots political party, one that aims to occupy the political space Labour has steadily abandoned. Announced on July 24, 2025, the initiative has already attracted tens of thousands of supporters within hours, signalling a deep hunger for a bolder, unapologetically left‑wing alternative to the status quo. While the official name has yet to be chosen, the movement’s intent is unmistakable: to offer a platform rooted in social justice, economic fairness, and genuine community democracy.

From the outset, the project is being framed not as another Westminster‑centric vehicle, but as a federation of locally empowered organisations with a national vision. Core principles include wealth redistribution, ending austerity, public ownership of essential services, and a decisive foreign policy stance that rejects arms sales to Israel while affirming support for a free and independent Palestine. These are policies designed to galvanise the disillusioned, voters alienated by Labour’s cautious centrism and the stagnation of Britain’s two‑party stalemate.

The momentum is real. Reports vary, but early estimates suggest between 80,000 and 500,000 sign‑ups within the first day, an extraordinary show of energy for a movement still without a name. For Corbyn and Sultana, this is not simply a bid to reclaim the past, but an attempt to forge a coalition that can speak to the country’s present and future needs. The party’s inaugural conference, scheduled for later in 2025, will be a decisive moment. It will set the tone for how the organisation functions internally, what it will be called, and how it plans to compete in local and national elections.

Politically, the implications are substantial. Labour, under Keir Starmer, has bet heavily on attracting centrist swing voters, a strategy that risks alienating its traditional base. Corbyn’s party could become the rallying point for those who believe Labour has compromised too far, offering a home for trade unionists, younger voters, anti‑war campaigners, and those seeking transformative economic policy. The risk of splitting the progressive vote is real, but so too is the possibility of reshaping the national conversation, and forcing a recalibration of priorities within Labour itself.

Much will depend on the movement’s ability to convert enthusiasm into infrastructure. Building candidate pipelines, securing funding, and sustaining grassroots organisation will be critical. Corbyn’s long‑standing connection with activist networks and Sultana’s resonance with younger progressives provide a promising foundation. If that energy translates into effective campaigning, the party could make its mark far sooner than expected.

This is not just another fringe protest party emerging from the political wilderness. It is the crystallisation of years of grassroots frustration, now given structure, leadership, and the potential for scale. While sceptics will point to the electoral system’s unforgiving nature, history shows that determined movements with a clear moral compass can shift the terrain in surprising ways.

The UK is entering a period where political certainties no longer hold. In this volatile climate, new actors with courage and clarity can have an outsized impact. The Corbyn‑Sultana initiative is still in its infancy, but it has already tapped into a deep well of popular discontent. Watch this space – the story is only just beginning.

Quiet Competence: The Technocratic Leadership of Mark Carney and Keir Starmer

In an era marked by political turmoil, populism, and polarized electorates, the emergence of two distinctly technocratic leaders, Canada’s Mark Carney and the United Kingdom’s Keir Starmer, signals a subtle, but significant shift in governance. Both men have stepped into their roles as Prime Ministers in the last year, bringing with them a pragmatic, policy-driven style that eschews grandstanding for steady, results-oriented leadership.

Mark Carney’s ascension to the Canadian premiership in March 2025 was, by many measures, unconventional. Known primarily for his extraordinary track record as an economic steward, having helmed two of the world’s most influential central banks, Carney entered politics without prior elected office experience. Yet this outsider status may be his greatest asset. Carney’s approach is quintessentially technocratic: data-driven, nuanced, and focused on long-term stability rather than short-term political gain.

Early in his tenure, Carney moved decisively, but quietly to abolish the consumer carbon tax, a move that was politically contentious, but signaled his willingness to recalibrate policies based on public sentiment and economic realities. Simultaneously, he maintained other industrial carbon levies, showing a measured balancing act between environmental priorities and economic concerns. His focus on national sovereignty, especially in the context of complex geopolitical pressures from the United States, demonstrates his comfort in navigating both domestic and international arenas with calculated precision.

Across the Atlantic, Keir Starmer’s rise to UK Prime Minister in mid-2024 was accompanied by a return to a more traditional, sober style of governance after over a decade of Conservative rule. Starmer’s background as a human rights lawyer and former Director of Public Prosecutions clearly informs his methodical and legalistic approach to leadership. His government has tackled thorny domestic challenges, from public sector strikes to immigration policy reform, without resorting to populist rhetoric or headline-grabbing gestures.

Starmer’s pragmatism is evident in his recent reforms: ending winter fuel payments for millions, launching an early prisoner release scheme to reduce overcrowding, and instituting new border security measures. These decisions, while controversial, reflect a focus on institutional reform and social justice framed within achievable policy frameworks. Unlike more flamboyant predecessors, Starmer projects a sense of quiet competence, aiming to rebuild public trust through consistency and fairness rather than drama.

What unites Carney and Starmer is their shared embrace of technocratic governance, an approach that values expertise, incremental progress, and policy refinement over ideological battles or media theatrics. Both leaders seem intent on “getting on with the job,” navigating complex political landscapes with a steady hand. This approach is particularly noteworthy given the current political climate, where many leaders lean heavily on spectacle or populist appeals.

Their quiet competence is not without risks. Technocratic leaders can be perceived as detached or insufficiently charismatic, which can make it challenging to galvanize broad popular enthusiasm. Yet, for electorates fatigued by volatility and crisis, Carney and Starmer offer a reassuring alternative: governance that promotes substance over style and incremental progress over sweeping promises.

The early months of Mark Carney’s and Keir Starmer’s premierships illustrate the power of quiet, data-driven leadership in modern politics. Their technocratic approaches may not dominate headlines, but they offer a compelling model for steady, pragmatic governance in an era that sorely needs it.

The Brexit Quagmire: Britain’s Long March to Nowhere

I wrote this piece a while back when it became clear that the Labour government wasn’t going to acknowledge the mess that Brexit has left the country, and then planning on doing something about it.  

It’s been more than eight years since the UK voted to leave the European Union, and the country remains tangled in the wreckage of that decision. Those who championed Brexit—promising economic renewal, restored sovereignty, and an end to Brussels’ supposed meddling—have either slunk away from public life or now conveniently blame everything, but Brexit itself, for the country’s dismal state. Meanwhile, the UK economy limps along, its political class is in shambles, and its global standing is diminished.

Let’s start with the economy. The Office for Budget Responsibility (OBR) has repeatedly confirmed that Brexit has shaved at least 4% off the UK’s GDP—a staggering hit equivalent to the cost of COVID-19, but without the excuse of a global pandemic. Investment has stalled, businesses struggle with trade barriers, and the labour market is in disarray. The much-touted trade deals—supposedly the jewels of an independent Britain—have been underwhelming at best. The Australia deal, for example, was so lopsided that even its Conservative architect, George Eustice, admitted it was a mistake.

Meanwhile, Britain’s political leadership is paralysed by the Brexit-induced culture war that still defines Tory policy. Rishi Sunak, the latest in a conveyor belt of weak Conservative prime ministers, finds himself hostage to the hard-right fringes of his party, who still cling to Brexit as a nationalist totem. Labour, under Keir Starmer, tiptoes around the issue, unwilling to reopen old wounds but acutely aware that Brexit is a disaster.

And then there’s Northern Ireland. The supposed “solution” to the Brexit border dilemma—the Windsor Framework—hasn’t ended unionist resentment or calmed the waters. Businesses in Northern Ireland enjoy a unique advantage of dual access to UK and EU markets, but politically, the province remains deeply fractured. The Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) continues to throw tantrums over Brexit’s impact, while the broader UK-EU relationship remains one of managed hostility rather than genuine partnership.

In short, Britain is poorer, politically broken, and increasingly irrelevant on the world stage. The great post-Brexit “Global Britain” experiment has failed, leaving a country adrift, governed by a party unable to admit its mistakes and an opposition too cautious to offer real alternatives. And yet, despite mounting evidence of economic self-harm, Brexit remains a political third rail. No major party dares to say what most people now quietly accept: Brexit was a colossal error, and the UK is paying the price.