When peaceful protestors are smeared as 'far-right,' the risk of true extremism rises, writes Suella Braverman

A small Hampshire town just north of Portsmouth, its name commemorates a moment of national triumph - when weary British soldiers, fresh from the defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo, stopped to celebrate on their long march home. The local pub, The Heroes, still bears their legacy. But in recent weeks, Waterlooville witnessed a very different kind of campaign- one not waged with muskets and sabres, but with placards, petitions and Union Jacks.

It was not a foreign army this time, but a creeping political consensus that locals rose to oppose. The Labour–Liberal Democrat-run Havant Borough Council, in coordination with the Home Office, had quietly planned to house asylum seekers- many here illegally- in the heart of this quiet English town. But it didn’t stay quiet for long.

Conservative councillors uncovered the plan, and outrage followed. Over 10,000 local residents signed a petition opposing it. More remarkably, nearly a thousand people turned out to protest in Waterlooville Shopping Centre- a peaceful demonstration, with families, veterans, and young children standing together in defence of their home. A few days later, the Home Office quietly reversed course. The plans were shelved.

This was not just a local skirmish. It was, in its own way, a cultural and democratic turning point. Waterlooville’s residents- grandmothers, servicemen, teenage girls, shopkeepers- had stood against the full weight of institutional inertia. They did so respectfully, peacefully and lawfully. And they won.

In a healthier polity, this would be a moment of national reflection. But such stories are often dismissed by a political class that cannot or will not see what is happening across Britain. The fear felt in Waterlooville is not the product of xenophobia; it is the entirely rational fear that stems from a government that has lost control of the country’s borders, and a political establishment that increasingly pathologises dissent.

Talk to local people, as I have done, and the stories are often moving- and disturbing. Women who once felt safe walking alone now speak of fear. Some in tears. Elderly residents afraid to go out after dark. And the statistics support their instincts: foreign nationals are responsible for up to a quarter of all sex offences. But to even mention this is, in polite society, to risk being branded "far-right" or “inflammatory”.

This gaslighting, this wilful mischaracterisation of legitimate concern, has left many feeling powerless and alienated. That sense of abandonment and betrayal is spreading. People are angry not because they are bigoted, but because they have been told, time and again, that they do not matter.

The core of the issue is this: Who is Britain for? Is it for the law-abiding taxpayer in a small Hampshire town, or for those who break into the country and are then quietly given accommodation, benefits and protection from criticism by a hyper-sensitive political class?

There is also something profoundly sad beneath the anger. Sadness that their town, with its heritage and quiet pride, is being treated as a dumping ground. Sadness that the promises made to their fathers and grandfathers- who fought for a free and ordered Britain- are being broken in real time. Sadness, ultimately, that there seems to be no one left in power willing to speak plainly.

And so, in the absence of political leadership, people are stepping forward. The celebration in Waterlooville after the Home Office U-turn was heartfelt- but it was also wary. They know this is not over. Across Britain, from Epping to Canary Wharf, to Dover, and small villages in the Midlands, a pattern is emerging. People are organising. Mobilising. Refusing to be silenced.

It is no exaggeration to say we are walking on glass. When voices of concern are mocked or marginalised, when families protesting peacefully are smeared as extremists, the risk of true extremism rises. We must hope the example of Waterlooville- firm, lawful, dignified- can serve as a model. But equally, we must not be naïve. A few bad actors are all it takes to turn civic protest into something darker.

The British public is done with empty platitudes. They are tired of being told they’re wrong for seeing what is plainly in front of them. And if the political class continues to patronise, delay and equivocate, they will soon find themselves confronted by a far more serious reckoning than one small-town protest.

This was the Battle of Waterlooville. And though it passed without bloodshed, its implications stretch far beyond the south coast. The people have spoken. Will anyone listen?

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Suella Braverman is the former Conservative Home Secretary and MP for Fareham and Waterlooville.

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