A Portrait of Division and Defiance –Tuesday evening found me in the company of Gina Miller, a figure best known for her landmark legal challenge that forced the UK Government to seek Parliamentary approval before triggering Article 50 and beginning the Brexit process. In today’s fractured political landscape, Miller has, willingly or not, become a beacon for those desperate for leadership and clarity amid the chaos.

But the price of such visibility has been horrific. Miller has endured an unrelenting torrent of abuse—threats of violence, racial harassment, and vile misogyny. Her personal office has received dangerous packages, her legal team harassed outside their workplaces. Even members of the aristocracy have targeted her with vile, hate-filled public remarks, including the 4th Viscount St Davids, who called her a “boat jumper” and offered a bounty for someone to “accidentally” run her over. The vitriol is a stark and disturbing reminder of the dark undercurrents roiling beneath our society.

How did we get here? It’s a question that haunts me, no matter what side of the political divide you stand on. What has stirred such profound hostility, such a corrosive bitterness? This isn’t mere political disagreement—it is a deep, painful darkness that strikes at the heart of community and civility. It is the ugly resentment of the “grumpy uncle” or the neighbour who blames everyone but refuses to reflect.

Just last Sunday, I spent over two hours at a public meeting discussing a proposed winter shelter for the homeless in my neighbourhood. Such topics are always delicate, often inflaming frustrations about local governance and the fear of change. Yet none of that could excuse the venom directed not only at the council but, heartbreakingly, at those most vulnerable in our community—the homeless men and women who face the real threat of freezing to death this winter.

Concerns over property values and personal safety are understandable, and the council must address them calmly and clearly. But the atmosphere of the meeting was poisoned by hostility—a relentless, almost physical rage. Hands clenched, faces reddened, and interruptions were constant. This was not debate, but a display of emboldened intolerance and disregard for others. It mirrored the wider social fracturing Gina Miller speaks of—our inability to listen, empathize, and engage with each other as fellow citizens.

Miller’s analysis tonight resonated deeply. She spoke candidly about Brexit, the erosion of political accountability, and the urgent need to open dialogues across our fractured nation. Yet, some of her hopes—like the promise of a kinder, more socially aware capitalism—felt, at times, overly optimistic. Waiting for the financial elite to embrace genuine reform is a hope long deferred, especially for those who have borne the brunt of failed market-based solutions since the 1980s.

The mood in the room was one of grief and bewilderment, particularly during the Q&A when Miller called for outreach to those who voted for Brexit. An elderly man’s question, “How do we get into their heads to change their minds?” spoke volumes—not just about political division, but about a profound misunderstanding. It’s not about “getting into heads,” but about listening, showing empathy, and supporting policies that address real economic injustice.

Gina Miller is an extraordinary woman—a symbol of courage and common decency in an age where both are in short supply. The hatred she endures is despicable and must be condemned unequivocally. While her recent switch from Labour to the Liberal Democrats may disappoint some, it reflects her commitment to an ethos of “kinder capitalism,” even as we acknowledge the irony of austerity policies that sowed seeds of Brexit under the previous coalition government.

Perhaps, in the aftermath of Brexit’s tumult, we will better appreciate the value of Miller’s work. For now, as I finish this reflection, a new report from the Institute for Public Policy Research lands in my inbox. It calls for a “radical overhaul” of Britain’s economy comparable to post-war reforms or Thatcher’s revolution, to confront decades of stagnation since the 2008 crash.

Insightful, well-meaning—but for many, it feels like a call made while Rome burns.