Reform UK’s performance in the 2025 local elections has been nothing short of a political thunderclap. Once dismissed as a fringe movement, the party has surged into the mainstream with 677 council seats nationwide, including significant gains in Doncaster, Lincolnshire, and Runcorn. These gains are not just about seat counts but also about narrative control. Reform UK is no longer barking from the sidelines—it is helping script the political conversation.
But let’s be clear: Reform UK did not materialise from nowhere. Its roots trace back through the Brexit Party and UKIP, drawing lifeblood from the same grievances that drove the Leave vote in the 2016 European Union membership referendum. For example, concerns about sovereignty, immigration, and distrust of an insulated political class are inherited from its predecessors.
These issues have also been the landscape where Reform has stood out. Reform has zagged where other parties have zigged; it has doubled down on anti-establishment fervour when mainstream politics has felt increasingly disconnected. The 677 seats won in 2025 underscore a more profound disillusionment that neither Labour nor the Conservatives have been able to address.
Some of the party’s most shocking successes came in former Labour strongholds. In Runcorn, a Reform UK candidate won a council seat by just six votes, overturning a colossal 14,696 Labour majority from the 2024 general election.
It is not an isolated fluke but a bellwether of a much larger realignment. In Doncaster, Reform UK gained 37 seats and took control of the council. Lincolnshire elected Andrea Jenkyns as the first-ever Reform UK mayor with 42% of the vote. These are more than wins—they are breaches in Labour’s traditional red wall.
It is not just the north or working-class heartlands. Reform is expanding in rural counties and affluent areas once considered safe Tory territory. In Hertfordshire, they secured 14 seats; in Wiltshire, 10. The geography of their success shows that this isn’t just a protest vote but a broadening movement stretching across class and region.
Much of this momentum is undeniably tethered to one man: Nigel Farage. The pint-wielding populist has long been underestimated, cast as a media-savvy showman with a knack for political theatre. But beneath the bluster lies a canny strategist with a sharp instinct for public mood. His persona may be performative, but his influence is real. Farage knows how to harness anger, simplify complex issues, and repackage them as plainspoken rebellion. That talent has turned him into Reform UK’s most valuable—and volatile—asset.
Therein lies the risk. The party’s success has been intimately tied to Farage’s ability to dominate headlines. Reform UK has yet to prove it can function beyond its gravitational pull. A sustainable political movement cannot rely indefinitely on one man’s charisma. To survive, let alone thrive, Reform must institutionalise. This means developing a credible leadership bench, articulating comprehensive policies, and crafting a post-Farage vision.
This need is where the comparison to the Reform Party of Canada becomes instructive. In the 1990s, Canada’s Reform Party channelled similar populist energy to national prominence, eventually merging into a reformed conservative bloc that helped reshape the political landscape. Farage has explicitly cited this as a model. However, the Canadian Reform Party had to evolve beyond protest to policy and beyond opposition to governance. That is the same crucible Reform UK now faces.
Reform UK’s rise also cannot be seen in isolation. It’s part of a global populist wave that has redefined democratic politics in the 21st century. From President Donald Trump in the U.S. to Prime Minister Georgia Meloni in Italy and Leader of the National Rally Marine Le Pen in France, insurgent movements have turned frustration into fuel—and often into power. These movements thrive in an age of social fragmentation, declining trust in institutions, and a radically reshaped media ecosystem.
That last point is crucial. Reform UK has expertly tapped into the new media order, where alternative media, YouTube pundits, Telegram channels, and viral social content often sway more than broadsheets or BBC bulletins. Farage’s media savvy, honed through years of appearances on GB News and LBC, has helped Reform bypass traditional gatekeepers and speak directly to disillusioned voters. This disintermediated media landscape is fertile ground for populist movements that position themselves as truth-tellers against a biased elite.
Meanwhile, Britain’s mainstream parties remain mired in inertia. The Conservative Party is fractured and adrift, trying to appease moderates and hardliners while pleasing no one. Its leader, Kemi Badenoch, presents a modernising face but remains shackled to internal divisions. The idea of her stepping aside for Farage may seem fantastical, but British politics has rarely been more volatile. In a hung parliament scenario, even outlandish coalitions could come into play.
Labour, for its part, is still grappling with its identity. Once the voice of the working class, it has increasingly struggled to connect with voters outside the metropolitan liberal bubble. Reform UK is feasting on that failure. It’s not just stealing votes—it’s staking a claim to Labour’s former moral and cultural territory.
Yet even as it capitalises on disillusionment, Reform UK faces the more challenging part: maturity. Protest movements thrive on opposition, but governing demands coherence. Can Reform UK build a policy platform beyond the familiar refrains of sovereignty, migration, and anti-woke culture war rhetoric? Can it deliver on the trust it has won—or will it collapse under the weight of its simplicity?
The road ahead will be treacherous. History is littered with populist parties that surged and later sputtered. Reform UK must now grapple with the bureaucratic and strategic realities of turning electoral success into durable political influence. That means building a real party machine, establishing internal democracy, handling scrutiny, and figuring out life after Farage.
For now, the winds are at Reform UK’s back. It has momentum, a media presence, and a political opening. But movements built on populism often face a paradox: the anger that fuels them can be volatile, and, if not carefully channelled, can turn inward. Whether Reform UK becomes a real governing force or another angry footnote in British political history depends on its next moves.
The populist moment is no longer coming—it is already here. The question is whether it can become something more.