I’ve decided that I don’t like England anymore. I did like England when Brexit was the rallying cry—a nation reclaiming sovereignty, shaking off the European Union’s bureaucratic grip. Nigel Farage embodied that spirit of independence, and I could respect that. But who they are now, or have really, always been? That’s a different story. Since COVID, my view has shifted dramatically, and not without reason.
The pandemic exposed something deep in the English psyche: a cultural obsession with compliance. During lockdown, police in England enforced rules with a zeal that bordered on authoritarian. They issued over 120,000 Fixed Penalty Notices for breaches of COVID regulations, ranging from meeting a friend outdoors to traveling without a “reasonable excuse.” Officers even had the authority to enter homes and forcibly return individuals to their residences if they were found outside without justification.¹ This wasn’t just about health—it was about control. It revealed a society that values safety over liberty, process over spontaneity, and certainty over courage.
And then came the social media policing. In England today, posting the wrong thing online can land you in handcuffs. Under Section 127 of the Communications Act 2003 and the Malicious Communications Act 1988, police made 12,183 arrests in 2023 alone for “offensive” or “grossly offensive” posts—a staggering 58% increase since 2019.² That’s about 30 arrests every single day for speech crimes. Think about that. In a country that once gave the world John Locke and the principles of liberty, people are now being dragged from their homes for tweets.
Consider the case of Graham Linehan, co-creator of Father Ted. He was arrested at Heathrow Airport after returning from the U.S., his crime being posts critical of transgender ideology.³ Or the IT consultant who posted a photo with a shotgun during a Florida trip—police raided his home, seized his devices, and subjected him to 13 weeks of investigation.⁴ Then there’s Maxie Allen and Rosalind Levine, who faced a six-officer raid over a sarcastic WhatsApp message criticizing a school official.⁵ These aren’t isolated incidents—they’re part of a pattern. The UK now has elite police units dedicated to monitoring online speech for “hate” or “extremism,” often targeting those with anti-migrant views.⁶
This is not freedom. It’s thought control. And the cultural soil that allows this to grow is England’s love of process—its obsession with rules, procedures, and certainty. They plan everything: the route to the gas station, the tea ritual, the itinerary for a simple drive. It’s a society that trades spontaneity for safety, adventure for predictability. That might sound quaint until you realize what it means in practice: a population conditioned to obey.
Even their illusion of free speech is telling. London’s Speaker’s Corner is often romanticized as a bastion of open dialogue, but in reality, it’s a monitored zone—a symbolic gesture that says, “You can speak here, under our watch.” Outside that corner, the state’s grip tightens. Arrests for silent prayer near abortion clinics, for tweets deemed “offensive,” for Facebook posts criticizing politicians—these are not anomalies; they are the norm.⁷ The U.S. State Department has even flagged the UK for “serious restrictions on freedom of expression.”⁸ That should alarm anyone who values liberty.
And while the state clamps down on speech, another force reshapes the cultural landscape: demographic change. The Muslim population in England has grown from 4.9% in 2011 to about 6.5% in 2021—roughly 4 million people—and is projected to reach 13 million by 2050.⁹ This isn’t just a statistic; it’s a transformation. In urban centers, Islamic fundamentalism finds fertile ground in a society already conditioned to compliance. When a culture is beaten into submission by its own government, it becomes vulnerable to ideologies that demand even stricter obedience. That’s not diversity—that’s a recipe for cultural collapse.
Contrast this with America’s founding spirit. The United States exists because people rejected monarchy, hierarchy, and the suffocating weight of tradition. They fled Europe’s kingdoms for the unknown, embracing risk and adventure. That courage—the willingness to live without guarantees—is what built America. England, by contrast, never shed its psychological chains. Even now, with a “token” King Charles, the monarchy persists as a cultural anchor, a reminder that the people are subjects, not sovereigns. That mindset matters. A society that wants to be ruled already has something broken in its DNA.
Brexit was a flicker of rebellion, a moment when England seemed ready to reclaim its independence. Nigel Farage gave voice to that impulse, railing against the EU’s bureaucratic overreach. But where is that spirit now? Drowned in lockdown mandates, speech policing, and a nanny-state mentality that arrests citizens for jokes. Farage’s Reform UK party still fights, but it’s swimming against a cultural tide that prefers process to freedom.¹⁰
I’ve tried to rationalize some affection for England over the years. I admired their bookstores, their literary tradition, and their politeness. My own family ties made it tempting to look the other way. But honesty demands clarity: England today is not a beacon of liberty. It is a cautionary tale—a society that traded freedom for safety, individuality for compliance, and courage for comfort. And the world is watching. When London becomes the attack vector for global liberalism, when its cultural weakness enables ideological invasions, when its police knock on doors for tweets, we should ask: Is this the future we want?
America must never follow that path. Our strength lies in the unknown, in the willingness to risk, in the refusal to bow. England chose differently. And for that reason, I can no longer admire what it has become. I would say that England has always been this way, and it has only excelled as a culture when it has endeavored to be more like America, as it did with Brexit. But remember, this is the same culture that literally tortured and killed William Wallace, the Scottish rebel shown so well in the movie Braveheart. When they killed him, to quell any future rebellions, they gutted him in front of the crowd and burned his intestines while he was still alive. After they cut off his head after a very torturous death, they cut up his body and sent his arms and legs to the far reaches of the kingdom. And they put his head on a pike on London Bridge and kept it there for a long time. To remind people of what would happen to other rebels should they think to take the same path. And that same behavior is present in their policing of social media posts. Any culture that is willing to put up with that kind of oppression is not a good culture for the world. And that is the value system they seem to support most: compliance with authority over freedom of thought. English culture is built on compliance, and history shows us over an extended period what a disaster that is. Which is why I no longer like or respect England and its role in the world.
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Footnotes:
¹ UK lockdown enforcement: Fixed Penalty Notices and home entry powers 123
² Arrest statistics under Section 127 and the Malicious Communications Act 4
⁴ IT consultant arrested over Florida photo 5
⁵ Maxie Allen & Rosalind Levine WhatsApp raid 4
⁶ Elite units monitoring online speech 7
⁷ Arrests for silent prayer and speech restrictions 89
⁸ U.S. State Department criticism of UK free speech limits 9
⁹ Muslim population growth and projections 1011
¹⁰ Farage and Reform UK political context 1213
Rich Hoffman

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