Reflections on Conservative Britain Then and Now. There is no greater truth in politics than the inevitability of cycles: what goes around, ultimately comes around. For those disillusioned and dispirited by the current state of British politics, this should serve as a cautious reminder rather than a consolation. Many look back through rose-tinted lenses at the Conservative-Thatcher era of the 1980s—the decade when the unleashed dog of unfettered greed barked loudest and reshaped the nation. But forty years on, striking parallels emerge between that turbulent era and the present day.

I grew up in the North East of England—the so-called heartland of Labour’s “red wall,” a phrase that lazy political commentators brandish with little understanding, whether from London studios or the steps of Downing Street. Yet right-wing, working-class patriotism has long been a complex, often overlooked reality behind those walls, just as it exists behind the so-called “blue wall” of places like Christchurch.

Then as now, the Conservative Party has regularly installed leaders from its elite ranks—born into privilege and crowned by birthright—whose personas are carefully crafted by spin doctors and advisors. In the 1980s, that leader was Margaret Thatcher; today, it is Boris Johnson, a man who revels in the performative trappings of populism—driving garbage trucks, swapping banter with his flat-capped mates in local pubs, and railing against foreigners across the Channel.

But the 1970s and ’80s in the UK were far more than fashion trends, pop music, or flashy consumerism. Beneath the neon lights and padded shoulders, they were a period marked by social fracture and violent unrest. Poverty soared, the gap between rich and poor widened to unprecedented levels, and cities like Brixton, Liverpool, Leeds, Manchester, and Birmingham erupted in protest and revolt.

The death of Blair Peach, killed by the Metropolitan Police’s Special Patrol Group—an infamous unit operating with near impunity—exemplified the brutal state repression of the time. Laws such as the Vagrancy Act 1824 and Clause 28 exploited ignorance and fear, targeting marginalized communities, particularly LGBTQ+ people.

Meanwhile, Thatcher’s government forged cynical alliances with apartheid South Africa, welcoming its leaders as friends while extremist voices within the Conservative Party—some linked by business interests—denounced the African National Congress as terrorists. Calls for the execution of Nelson Mandela echoed at party conferences as violence and unrest shook the country again in 1990 with the poll tax riots. A pattern repeated decades later in 2011 under David Cameron, when riots once again gripped cities across the UK.

Today, the script may be updated, spun, and tailored for the digital age—disseminated through targeted social media ads and disinformation campaigns—but the underlying narrative remains unaltered. The Johnson administration is testing boundaries, deliberately stoking tensions to gauge resistance. The deportations of Jamaicans under his watch echo the playbook of reactionary populists like Trump—dividing communities to consolidate power.

Johnson is a puppet, complicit in a reactionary political project funded by billionaires and oligarchs intent on destabilizing oversight and accountability—most visibly through their war on the EU. Unfettered greed, history tells us, will ultimately self-destruct, but not before poisoning the social fabric in ways that will take years to undo.

Looking back to the 1980s and placing them in today’s context, it is clear that the extent of the coming damage depends largely on the resistance of the younger generations. Until that resistance crystallizes, Johnson will continue to push forward, indifferent to the social consequences. Violence and unrest may not be the inevitable outcome, but given the Conservative Party’s track record, any fallout is too often treated as mere collateral damage.

The wheels keep turning—and so must we, with vigilance and resolve.