"We Are Not A Party"

NONPOL and the politics of anti-politics

Late afternoon on a Saturday in mid-February, I noticed a street stall being dismantled next to one of my favourite local haunts, The Tobacco Factory. It was beginning to rain, but I stopped walking to watch for a minute or so as a handful of people dressed in black packed away placards and rolled up tarpaulin. These were activists of some kind—that much was clear—but their cause was more obscure.

It’s not unusual to see activity of this kind on North Street, the main thoroughfare in my neighbourhood of Bristol. I’ve spotted—and carefully avoided—members of the Socialist Workers Party handing out pamphlets, newspapers, and other promotional material in this precise spot on a number of occasions.

What is curious, though, is that while Bristol might seem like a natural place for the SWP to be canvassing—the city has a reputation for being left-wing, somewhat anti-establishment, and its various constituencies have long been regarded as fertile ground for the Green Party—the bunch of dour agitators I briefly observed a fortnight ago seemed to belong to an altogether different political tribe.

In fact, their principal slogan, printed on large makeshift banners and rendered in stark monochrome, was a direct repudiation of politics itself. Alongside the name of this enigmatic coalition, “NONPOL”, was a proclamation: “WE ARE THE FIRST UK NON-POLITICAL PARTY THAT WILL RUN IN THE NEXT UK ELECTION.”

From what I could glean from the pavement on the other side of the street, they like ALL CAPS but they don’t like “wokeism”. I noted a few other details, too. One sign that caught my attention, though I couldn’t be sure if I’d read it correctly, implored the UK to “withdraw from WHO” (The World Health Organisation). While another decried the lack of “common sense” in British political discourse.

Bristol is a strange place for this kind of political party—one which claims not to be a political party; a gimmick which would be paradoxical if it meant anything at all—to be campaigning. Especially one whose messaging brings to mind the alt-right and the kinds of conspiracy theories associated with it. At first, I was merely curious; now I was intrigued and pretty suspicious. By which I mean I was interested enough to do some digging.

NONPOL is a nascent organisation. The one and only piece of press converge I could find about them was in the Stratford-upon-Avon Herald. In January, the paper published a report whose headline reads: “The UK’s first non-political party has been launched in Stratford”—that gimmick again.

Given it was founded only last month, it’s unsurprising I’d never heard of them. And yet something about their austere, alarmist black and white aesthetic felt quite familiar. I was sure I could guess, just from watching that flimsy structure being disassembled in the drizzle – as well as their set of demands, petitions, and assertions—what some of their other views might be. And it turns out some of my intuitions were more or less correct.

What I wasn’t prepared for, though, was just how strange yet somehow also banal and unwittingly hilarious this ramshackle movement really is. The preposterously named Neil O’Neil is NONPOL’s founder, leader and—perhaps unfortunately—the face of this plucky political upstart. Not even Chris Morris, the man behind the classic satirical TV shows The Day Today and Brass Eye, would have invented a character like O’Neil. And yet the moniker wouldn’t look out of place beside the lavishly stupid Peter O'Hanra-Hanrahan or Collaterlie Sisters (played with exquisite comic timing by Patrick Marber and Doon Mackichan respectively).

Alongside the report in the Herald, O’Neil is pictured scowling at the camera on a cobbled high street in Stratford. He resembles a cross between a member of a Pink Floyd tribute act and a rotund druid. What’s being attempted here, I think, is a kind of menacing dandy look (red velvet jacket, a shirt whose chaotic pattern could prompt an epileptic seizure, and a pair of trousers best described as both unforgiving and unforgivable).

But I cannot account for his decision to wear sunglasses on an overcast winter’s day in the centre of a picturesque Midlands market town. From the collar up, he looks like a Ray Winstone impersonator. But his costume—there’s no other word for it—is pure camp. The overall impression is ridiculous. But the more I learn about NONPOL, the more appropriate it seems.

Their dogged insistence that they’re not a political party, when that’s precisely what they are, and their risible figurehead aren’t the only sources of humour here.

Speaking to the Herald, O’Neil attempts a summary of what the newspaper itself calls “some of the twelve principles guiding NONPOL’s non-political doctrine”. Exactly how any of the claims or policy suggestions these charlatans offer on their rudimentary and incomplete website can be called “non-political” is hard to fathom. Nevertheless, I think it’s worth quoting him in full, since it appears to be the only interview he’s granted any news media so far:

“Common sense has gone out of politics it’s what I call “bollotics” – it’s too political with people just bashing each other all the time and the public are fed-up with it. So I’ve set up a party and written a constitution. We won’t align with other parties, corporates or people seeking political influence. We will dismantle wokeism and cancel the cancel culture. We will Install a British Constitution for free speech, personal freedom and the right to disagree. We want to make the United Kingdom self-sufficient. History has shown that leadership, innovation, compassion and the vision of the United Kingdom has made our little islands the envy of the world. Together we are strong. Unite the Kingdom and all its people to be formidable again.”

Politics has become too political? At this point, I’m really not sure what he means, and I don’t think he does either.

Stratford is one of four constituencies where the party intends to field candidates; the others are Lewes, Hove and Bury North. Of these, three are held by the Conservatives, with the exception being Hove whose MP is Labour’s Peter Kyle. His position seems unassailable. Not only was he re-elected with a majority of over seventeen thousand in 2019, but the Labour Party seem all but sure of winning this year’s General Election.

Bury North is a constituency that’s also worth looking at. Currently held by the Conservatives, its MP is one James Daly (me neither), and his majority is vanishingly slim, having won the seat five years ago by a margin of 0.2%. (The UK Parliament’s website informs me that he “is the Conservative MP for Bury North and has been an MP continually since December 2019”, as though getting a job and then proceeding to actually do that job were a surprising—or even impressive—accomplishment).

The targeting of just a handful of constituencies, and especially one that’s held so precariously by the Conservatives, signals NONPOL’s narrow, strategic parliamentary ambitions; although the party have indicated that they “intend to recruit more candidates” before the General Election. But NONPOL’s website is littered with bizarre statements which belie the modest parliamentary ambitions outlined by O’Neil like, “We are moving the Overton window!” Are you?

This talk of shifting the Overton window, twinned with tropes so hollow and tired that they make Nigel Farage’s contributions to British politics seem like palate cleansers, leaves the impression that O’Neil believes the word “window” is not a metaphor at all, but a portable pane of glass that can be relocated at will.

As for NONPOL’s “manifesto”—I’m afraid the scare quotes seem necessary—it’s prefaced by a mission statement of sorts.

“We are not a Party that has a single or selective causes, we want to fix everything wrong in Britain. For this we have an extensive manifesto that covers more than most other political parties. Our manifesto is based on fact, reality and common sense, not political correctness, woke or minority pressures; it is for the whole of Britain.

We understand that most people will not have the time or inclination to read a long and detailed manifesto document. We have therefore made a short video for each area, to capture the high-level ideas, in simple terms, of our manifesto. Anyone who becomes a party member will have access to the very detailed manifesto and be encouraged to provide feedback and ideas. We want our members to have a voice, where that voice benefits the UK.

Our Manifesto is radical in some areas and has ideas never seen before; we believe Politics needs to change radically and there needs to be long term plans to fix Britain. Our manifesto will introduce, optimise, refresh or renew the following.”

What actually follows is a fairly broad list of proposals under five distinct headings: Economics; Social; Science; British Culture; and… “Fun”. This latter category contains two further subsections with one titled “Giggles” and the other “Political Correctness”.

The only thing more amusing than NONPOL offering “Fun” as one of the five key policy areas of its manifesto—and including “Giggles” as a subsidiary—is that when I clicked on the section labelled “Giggles”, I was presented with the disclaimer: “Manifesto and Policies are currently being developed, please check back soon!”

I’m really not sure what to make of any of this. The delineation between earnest political manifesto and ham-fisted prank—wherever you want to draw that line—hasn’t so much been crossed as entirely vaporised.

But the NONPOL manifesto also has something to say about the UK Space Agency, “Youth Culture”, and the British Constitution (which is particularly interesting since we don’t have one). It’s pretty odd that a political party—I don’t care how they define themselves; you can’t repudiate that label while fielding candidates in the run up to a General Election—which is preparing to contest only four constituencies feels the need to opine on the subject of space exploration.

While I’m reflecting on the whole enterprise—or at least what I can discern from their website, press releases, and their activities fifteen minutes’ walk from my flat a fortnight ago—and wondering if it can get any more ridiculous, I discover that NONPOL has an anthem. I’m afraid that at this point words begin to fail me. But I encourage you to watch the music video for yourself.

It’s easy to mock political dilettantes like O’Neil and the shambolic organisation he leads. The group barely seems to know why it exists. Repellent and obnoxious figures like Laurence Fox immediately come to mind, as does Reclaim (formerly known as “Brexit Express”—this shit really does write itself), the right-wing populist party Fox allegedly leads).

But I think it’s worth bearing in mind that movements like these exist for a reason. However asinine they may appear—and NONPOL, as far as I can tell, is a ludicrous proposition—I think it would be a mistake to dismiss them entirely.

I don’t think it’s histrionic to say we’re living at a time of profound public distrust, despondency and inertia. Widespread confidence in British institutions and especially parliamentary politics has all but vanished, and the very notion of expertise is commonly derided, thanks in part to veteran politicians like Michael Gove. Tedious but febrile “culture wars” and increasingly factional political discourse are the prevailing mood music of 2024 and have been fairly constant since at least 2016.

More concerning is the page on NONPOL’s website that purports to cover “Health & Medication”. Here you can find a video which sounds like it’s being narrated by a depressive cyborg—perhaps it’s the voice of Neil O’Neil?

Regardless, this feckless vanity project flirts with conspiracy theories, stating that Covid vaccines are responsible for large numbers of “excess deaths” and claiming that, had the UK population not been suffering from a vitamin D deficiency, many fewer people would have died from the virus.

In other words, NONPOL’s retrospective recommendations for how to deal with a global pandemic amount to the prescription of vitamins rather than vaccines. This is apparently “because pharmaceuticals do not make money from vitamins”. Presumably they mean “pharmaceutical companies” rather than pharmaceuticals themselves – but you get the gist.

They go even further than that though, asserting that “hydroxychloroquine helps recovery from Covid with zero risks or side effects”. In fact, Forbes Magazine recently published a report by Joshua Cohen under the headline, “Hydroxychloroquine, A Drug Trump Promoted To Treat Covid-19, Linked To 17,000 Deaths, Estimates Show”.

Even worse, and as I’d been led to suspect when I glimpsed that banner a couple of weeks ago, NONPOL wants the UK to withdraw from WHO, calling it “too woke” and making spurious claims about its political ambitions—specifically, alleging that it seeks to control the provision of healthcare across the globe. It’s worth mentioning that WHO is an international body composed of 194 member states; the UN has 193.

“From little acorns great oaks grow” is another platitude you can find on their website. It’s already pretty hackneyed, but when a phrase like that is paired with a piecemeal manifesto, from a political party that readily admits it’s yet to agree on its contours, never mind its contents—NONPOL even solicits suggestions from members of the public—it’s straightforwardly fatuous.

Being trite is slightly embarrassing; deploying grandiose assertions about “shifting the Overton window” while cobbling together a grand total of four prospective parliamentary candidates and proffering as party leader a man whose name is as tautological and farcical as the values he espouses is simply absurd and self-discrediting.

In a year where almost half the global population is facing national elections—and both UK and US citizens are likely to be casting their ballots in the very same month—the arrival on the scene of an interloper like NONPOL might seem dispiriting. But while their messaging is unsettling, it’s also very hard to take seriously. Confronted with a pretty bleak set of prospects, I think choosing ridicule over consternation is probably the best we can do.

At least when it comes to a political movement that’s founded on nothing more than an oxymoron. And whose proponents can’t be bothered to finish their own manifesto.