The sun had returned to the Brighton streets – amongst other things – and I wasn’t dressed appropriately for a protest.
Wielding my laptop and a water bottle so large it could weigh down a small hot air balloon – I was on the way to join the counter demonstration at Saturday’s Carnival Against Fascism. As part of a small crowd that had inadvertently gathered under the train station underpass, I had a unique vantage point. I had made it to the barrier! Although a few hours spent at the police barrier doesn’t produce quite as aesthetic a memory as barrier at the O2 – less fun, more Farage.
I attended with the noble journalist intent to document, and inevitably, ended up a very active observer. I’d been standing there for a while, making conversation with the range of people I’d found myself amongst – old and young, men and women – when my attention was caught by a tradesman who had wandered up the station road to ‘see what the fuss was about’, as he put it.
He’d asked how long the shouting, music and general commotion had been going on for, how long we planned to stay, how many actual people stood behind the chestnut brown police horse; the usual protest questionnaire. Informed, satisfied with the information he had seen and heard, the man laughed.
‘I just wanted to know what was going on – I’m sat at work literally watching paint dry, so I thought I’d have a look!’ A laugh, a wave, and he’s gone again. Back to literally watching paint dry.
Sussex Police estimated the original Stop The Boats Protest drew around 300 people, while the counter-protest saw approximately 4,500. However, despite the slightly buoying effect of the 10-1 ratio – my mind still started to wander. Over 4,000 took to the streets of Brighton to show that fascism and anti-immigration rhetoric has no home in Brighton, but just how many were sat in their homes? Yes, only 300 people showed up to wave their Amazon standard Union Jack flags; but plenty more showed up to the polls that took place in May to vote Reform councillors into local office.
Shouting back at the angry, often follicularly challenged, men making offensive gestures to my actual face was certainly therapeutic but I still can’t shake the feeling – taking to the streets to vocally challenge hate is vital, but in the digital age, I’m not sure it’s enough.
The recent 2026 riots in Belfast, sparked after a stabbing incident, have been deeply upsetting, and grotesquely familiar. The same, repetitive scenes of people driven from their homes and targeted based on what they look like, or where they come from.
In 2024, I still remember what it felt like to be a teenager on the cusp of first year at university and watch the vilest hatred projected onto the television screen at home. The idea that summer now means the threat of violence has become so normalised, for so long, that it viscerally eats into the culture of the United Kingdom, of Brighton – a culture that was built on, and is continually enriched, community contributions from across the globe.
Somehow, racist and anti-immigrant rhetoric outside the gentrified bagel shops has become as expected as, well, watching paint dry. Even at a protest as passionate as this, people have disengaged.
And that’s how it started too – the memes my little brother would show me of Farage saying internet slop for a fee, or the Facebook reels of some pithy comeback to a Tommy Robinson speech. The internet far-right naively seemed controlled, manageable. The idea of anyone getting close to election who had made ‘hissing’ noises at Jewish classmates to mimic gas chambers, as former Dulwich college classmate Peter Ettedgui accused Mr Farage of in a BBC report, was borderline laughable! While Nigel Farage has denied he has ever ‘directly racially abused anybody’, the memes aren’t quite as funny anymore, safe to say.
We’ve all been watching. Reading. Listening. Letting rioting and pointed flag waving become, well, white noise. The slow build of digital discourse eventually led me to that barrier, led Brighton to Saturday’s protest. Carnival Against Fascism (and a surprise set by FatBoy Slim) were a welcome example that community driven direct action does still work, compelling cardboard signs and all. Being proud, being loud and being unapologetically intolerant of the intolerant are all key elements of what make Brighton the safe place it is meant to be, for everyone. But DJ sets and Sian Berry speeches aside, we still have a long way to go until the systemic violence has been stopped.
To keep Brighton, Sussex, the UK – wherever! – a functioning democracy that champions empathy and acceptance, it’s not enough to just go to the odd fundraiser at the SU or show up for the occasional protest. Anti-fascism must show up everywhere, including at the polls. Make fascist ideology unacceptable everywhere – inside and out of parliament – and refugees welcome everywhere.
Another article you may enjoy – https://thebadgeronline.com/2025/11/media-right-wing/