The chants at a mammoth anti-immigration rally that echoed through central London this past weekend - "They've taken our jobs" and "We want our country back" - were not just slogans aimed at faceless outsiders. For immigrant communities, including Britain's deeply rooted and widely successful Indian diaspora, they are an ominous reminder that belonging can never be taken for granted. History has shown, again and again, that even the most integrated minorities can find their citizenship treated as conditional when populist anger is weaponised.
The Indian Footprint In The UK
The Indian community is woven into British life. The third generation is thriving in politics, business, medicine, law and culture. It has given the country a Prime Minister, several Cabinet ministers and countless contributors to public life. Yet history warns us that success and integration are no guarantee of security. In 1972, Indians in Uganda - prosperous, professional, indispensable to the economy -- were expelled overnight by Idi Amin. Their passports and contributions counted for nothing once populist rage fused with authoritarian decree. The Chinese-Indonesians in 1998, despite being citizens for generations, saw their businesses looted and women assaulted when crisis turned them into scapegoats. France's North African and Muslim communities, third-generation citizens, continue to face systemic discrimination and violence. Even Britain itself is guilty: the Windrush scandal saw Caribbean families who had lived and worked here for decades detained, deported, stripped of rights they thought secure.
These examples should haunt British Indians today. For while the community is celebrated as a model minority, its success is no shield from racist attacks on a regular basis. If the political tide turns, they could become an easy scapegoat. The sight of 1,50,000 people marching through London in one of the largest anti-immigrant rallies since Brexit should be a wake-up call. The "Unite the Kingdom" demonstration was not a fringe outburst. It was a mainstream eruption of anger, drawing participants from across England, many of them ordinary citizens rather than right-wing political activists. When such chants grow louder, no family tree or citizenship certificate is enough to protect those who suddenly become "outsiders."
'Britain Stolen'?
The images from the rally told its own story: flags draped on shoulders, placards denouncing migrants, chants insisting that Britain had been stolen. For the organisers, this was about "defending free speech" and "standing up for Britain." For many in attendance, it was about something more raw - a sense of decline, dislocation and dispossession. These emotions have been fed for years by political rhetoric framing migration not as an opportunity to be managed but as a threat to be contained. Now they have burst onto the streets at a frightening scale.
It is significant too that the rally drew not only British populists but international agitators. Elon Musk appeared via a giant video screen, warning of the "woke mind virus" and declaring that "violence is coming - you either fight back or you die." His words were reckless but revealing, giving the event both global visibility and ideological weight. Alongside him were far-right figures from across Europe who see in Britain's unrest a mirror of their own. This was not simply a British protest but part of a wider continental pattern.
Across The Continent
Europe today is riddled with similar currents. Germany's Alternative für Deutschland has surged despite the scandal. Marine Le Pen's National Rally is poised to reshape French politics. Giorgia Meloni governs Italy as a hard-right prime minister, normalising rhetoric once dismissed as fringe. Geert Wilders in the Netherlands has revived his fortunes with uncompromising nationalist appeals. Even Scandinavia, once considered immune, has drifted rightward. For years, Britain was thought to have "spent" its populist capital on Brexit. But the London march shows that those energies are mutating into something new: less about leaving Europe, more about closing borders and reasserting identity.
For Prime Minister Keir Starmer, the implications are dire. Barely a year into his premiership, he faces a movement that is both anti-immigration and anti-establishment. Labour, despite its electoral victory, is being cast as part of an aloof political elite, out of touch with everyday grievances. Starmer's cautious centrism has neutralised Tory attacks but risks leaving an ideological vacuum. Into that vacuum step Nigel Farage and Tommy Robinson, the chief organiser of Saturday's mammoth rally.
Immigrants As Scapegoats
Immigration lies at the heart of this storm. It is a symbol and scapegoat alike, a vessel for wider anxieties about a Britain seen as broken. The economic truth is complicated: Britain relies on managed migration and foreign investment to offset stagnation, said to be worsened by Brexit. But there are genuine grievances. Illegal crossings across the Channel continue despite endless promises to "stop the boats." Councils and taxpayers are forced to house asylum seekers in entire hotels, fuelling resentment in towns already under strain. Weekly protests against such centres rarely make headlines, feeding the sense that ordinary voices are silenced. Against this backdrop, chants of "They've taken our jobs" gain traction not just because of propaganda but because people feel ignored.
Labour's challenge is to walk a fine line. Mr Starmer cannot dismiss these grievances outright, nor can he indulge them without betraying Britain's pluralist values. He must craft a story of national renewal -- one where migration is responsibly managed, communities are invested in, and a balanced dose of patriotism that is inclusive rather than exclusionary. Yet so far, his government looks reactive, firefighting instead of leading. Leadership in this moment requires conviction and imagination, not just competent administration.
The Cost Of Looking Away
If these sentiments are left unchecked, what is dismissed today as fringe will govern tomorrow. Already, Nigel Farage's name is being floated in drawing-room conversations as a potential prime minister in the near future. To laugh this off is to forget how quickly discontent hardens into ideology and ideology into power.
This is why the Indian diaspora - and indeed all immigrant communities - should not see the London rally as a distant spectacle. Indians in Uganda, Chinese-Indonesians, Caribbean Britons - history shows how fragile belonging can be when the political winds shift.
The chants in London should therefore chill Britain's minorities. "We want our country back" is not a slogan that checks passports. It thrives on refusing to distinguish between citizen and outsider, between third-generation immigrant and new arrival. Its power lies in treating difference itself as a threat.
Starmer must absorb this warning. If he allows the anti-immigrant right to dominate the terms of debate, he risks legitimising a politics that could one day turn on Britain's most integrated minorities. The responsibility of leadership is not only to manage discontent but to prevent today's anger from becoming tomorrow's authoritarianism.
What History Has Taught Us
Britain has faced such moments before. In the 1930s, fascist marches were defeated not just on the streets but by leaders who built a post-war consensus around welfare and fairness. In the 1970s and 1980s, the National Front was marginalised not only by policing but by the mobilisation of communities and culture around anti-racism. Today's danger is subtler - not swastikas and jackboots but the normalisation of rhetoric that casts immigrants as invaders. To counter that requires more than condemnation; it demands a vision of Britain's future that is pluralist and strong.
A Deeper Malaise
The "Unite the Kingdom" rally is not an aberration. It is a symptom of a deeper malaise - economic stagnation, cultural anxiety, political disillusionment. For Mr Starmer, the challenge is immediate and personal: if he cannot speak credibly to those who feel abandoned, if he cannot show empathy at home and authority abroad, he risks ceding ground to forces far less scrupulous. Starmer needs the courage of his political and ideological convictions, as well as to take actions that can alleviate the grievances of the general public.
At stake is more than his leadership. It is the future of Britain's political identity. Will it remain a liberal democracy that embodies inclusion, or will it slide into the populist nationalism sweeping Europe? For the Indian diaspora, the stakes are equally clear. To mistake their success for immunity would be to forget history's harshest lessons. Britain is crying out for leadership that offers renewal, not retreat. Until that happens, marches like "Unite the Kingdom" will not be the exception but the shape of things to come.
(Syed Zubair Ahmed is a London-based senior Indian journalist with three decades of experience with the Western media)
Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of the author
