Like a ghost from the political past—or perhaps a slightly mildewed relic left forgotten at the back of Labour’s ideological fridge—Jeremy Corbyn has risen once more to grace the nation with a brand new political party.
The man who turned “opposition” into a lifestyle and electoral futility into performance art has decided that Britain simply cannot go on without yet another hard-left movement to add to our already overcluttered democratic smorgasbord.
And how did we find out about this revolutionary rebirth? Not through a stirring speech in Trafalgar Square, or a letter in The Morning Star—but from a Twitter post by none other than Zarah Sultana. If your response to that is “Who?” you are not alone. Ms Sultana, Labour MP for Coventry South, is not exactly a household name, unless your household contains laminated posters of Corbyn and a rotating guest list of Stop the War Coalition speakers.
Sultana took to social media earlier this week to prematurely spill the beans on Corbyn’s big surprise—apparently before the man himself had a chance to orchestrate the grand reveal.
Sources close to the former Labour leader say he is “furious” about the leak. One can only imagine the scene: a beige kitchen, a gently steaming mug of herbal tea, and Jeremy railing against the betrayal of “comradely discipline” while the Morning Star quivers in his hand.
Still, the damage is done. The cat—or perhaps, the Red Flag—is out of the bag.
This new outfit, which as of yet has no name (might I suggest, given the involvement of Sultana and Corbyn, the Fruit ‘n’ Nut Party? ), represents Corbyn’s final effort to claw back political relevance.
Having been expelled from the Labour Party under Keir Starmer’s gradual but determined effort to rehouse the grown-ups, Corbyn has spent the past few years haunting the back benches and attending solidarity rallies with increasingly obscure causes.
Now he’s decided it’s time to take the fight to the establishment—with a fringe party designed to appeal to people who still think 1974 was a high point in economic thought.
What’s striking is the sheer absurdity of the whole venture. This is, after all, a man who led the Labour Party to its worst defeat since the 1930s. A man who managed to transform a once-proud national opposition into a protest movement with fewer coherent policies than the Green Party but with significantly more anger issues.
Yet here he is again, resurrecting all the old slogans, all the familiar faces, and—inevitably—all the baggage. Zarah Sultana’s involvement is telling. Her parliamentary career has been marked less by oratory brilliance or legislative achievements than by a string of gushing tributes to Jeremy and the sort of tweets that make you wonder if she realises the Soviet Union no longer exists. In many ways, she is the perfect companion for this particular political ghost tour.
Then there’s the question of policy. What exactly will this new party stand for? Presumably, we can expect the usual grab bag of far-left enthusiasms: unilateral nuclear disarmament, renationalisation of everything that moves (and some things that don’t), rent caps, solidarity with Venezuela, and the reintroduction of 1970s-style trade union dominance. And of course, vocal support for every anti-Western cause that can squeeze into a placard—including, it seems, a few that have troubling affinities with terrorist movements.
Indeed, let us not forget Corbyn’s long-standing affection for Arab and Irish republican “resistance” organisations—euphemistically referred to by some as “freedom fighters” but more accurately described as terrorists by just about everyone else. Corbyn, ever the ideological tourist, seems to have never met an anti-British militia he didn’t find “understandable in context.”
It’s worth noting that this passion for insurrectionist chic wasn’t just a youthful flirtation. Even in recent years, Corbyn has seemed more comfortable laying wreaths at the graves of bombers than attending briefings on counter-terrorism. That such a man is now launching a new political entity, without any trace of irony, is a curious indictment of how detached parts of the British left have become from the real world.
One might be tempted to laugh, and indeed, it is hard not to. The idea of Jeremy Corbyn forming a new political party in 2025 is akin to forming a new pirate radio station in the age of Spotify. It’s charmingly retro, yes, but also utterly redundant. What constituency does he imagine he’s serving? The 1.2% of voters who still think Tony Benn was too soft? The remaining staff of Tribune magazine?
But here’s the rub: Corbyn’s antics, however quixotic, could have consequences. In Islington North, he still commands a cult-like following, though whether that will ever translate into enough votes to win as an independent or minor party candidate remains to be seen. More worryingly, in marginal seats across the country, even a few hundred Corbynite votes siphoned off from Labour could tip the balance. The idea that Jeremy, the man who handed Boris Johnson a stonking majority, might once again help the Tories by accident is, at this stage, almost a tradition.
Of course, Corbyn will deny any such intent. He will say, as he always does, that he is standing on principle. The problem is, his principle is always the same: Jeremy Corbyn must never be wrong. Everyone else, the media, his party, the electorate, simply misunderstand his brilliance.
For most of Britain, this new movement will inspire little more than weary bemusement. We have, after all, seen this play before—and it didn’t end well.
So welcome back, Comrade Corbyn. The loony left lives on, albeit in reduced circumstances, and with fewer foot soldiers than ever. But at least Zarah Sultana will be there to hold the placard and tweet the revolution into being.
Let’s just hope no one leaks the next surprise.
