Claims that Reform UK leader Nigel Farage was a racist bully during his time at Dulwich College have failed to significantly alter the electorate's view of him, according to a new opinion poll. However, political commentators stress that the seriousness of the allegations demands a proper defence from a man who is now a credible candidate for the country's highest office.
Voter Sentiment Remains Static Despite Serious Claims
The exclusive survey for The Independent, conducted by JL Partners, found the net effect of the stories on Mr Farage's standing with the public is broadly neutral. While some respondents said the claims changed their view of him from positive to negative, a similar number shifted in the opposite direction. His overall ratings remain largely unchanged.
James Johnson of JL Partners suggested Mr Farage benefits from having well-established public opinions. Much like allegations against figures such as Donald Trump, Mr Farage's core supporters tend to "shrug off" the charges, viewing them as politically motivated attacks rather than substantive concerns.
The Allegations: More Than Just 'Banter'?
The allegations themselves are substantial. More than twenty former pupils from Dulwich College have come forward, asserting that the young Farage expressed racist, antisemitic, and fascist views. This week, former teacher Chloe Deakin, who objected to the 17-year-old Farage becoming a prefect in 1981, publicly reaffirmed her stance.
She directly contradicted Mr Farage's assertion that his offensive language was mere "banter" and that he never "directly" abused other students. "Of course Farage directly abused pupils," Ms Deakin stated. "He was being referred to, quite specifically, as a bully."
Supporters often dismiss this behaviour as youthful folly, long since outgrown. Yet, as Mr Farage was an 18-year-old adult in his final school months, analysts argue this transformation needs to be demonstrated, not merely asserted.
A Pattern of Provocative Commentary
Biographer Michael Crick, who first reported the school allegations in his book One Party After Another, notes that while he doesn't believe Mr Farage is an antisemite or racist in his adult life, the politician has frequently "trodden close to, or even over, the line."
His record as an adult politician includes controversial remarks about not hearing English on a London train, not wanting Romanian neighbours, and suggesting HIV treatment be denied to foreign nationals. The latter comment proved too extreme even for former Ukip MP Douglas Carswell, who labelled them "ill-advised" and later left the party.
This history, combined with his documented difficulty in sustaining political alliances—hinted at by the subtitle of Mr Crick's biography—forms a key reason for scrutinising his character. The persistent questions about his beliefs and temperament are justified precisely because he is a potential prime minister, or could play a major role in a future government.
Instead of using media platforms to attack journalists, the argument follows, Mr Farage should clearly articulate how and why he has changed from the "obnoxious young man" described by his peers. For someone seeking the nation's trust, welcoming fierce scrutiny of his personal history is not just advisable—it is essential.
