Under most circumstances, a British politician seeking cash from a foreign oligarch would make the approach discreetly. Recipient and donor would worry about the relationship looking improper even if the deal could be done without breaching UK electoral law.
Nigel Farage has no such qualms. The Reform leader has boasted of his recent meeting with Elon Musk, the world’s richest person, at Donald Trump’s Mar-a-Lago home. Nick Candy, a former Conservative donor and now the Reform party’s treasurer, was also present. Photographs and statements from the British visitors testify to their eagerness that the meeting – and the fact that money was discussed – attract maximum publicity.
Mr Musk has denied reports that he is considering making a multimillion-pound donation to Reform. But he has a proven appetite for meddling in British politics. He has used his X platform to attack Sir Keir Starmer, amplify radical rightwing rhetoric and post inflammatory remarks, including a forecast of civil war in the aftermath of riots over the summer.
It is inconceivable that a person of comparable influence from any country other than the US could intervene so blatantly in British politics without it being a matter of national scandal. If Mr Farage were not a possible beneficiary, and the interventions were not aligned with his prejudices, he would probably lead the outcry. He did not hesitate to denounce the then US president Barack Obama for encouraging British voters to vote to retain EU membership in the 2016 referendum.
There is a significant difference between commentary that is perceived as meddling in another country’s politics and money that could make a material difference to election outcomes. There are rules prohibiting foreign donations, but they are not hard to circumvent. The UK-registered arm of Mr Musk’s business empire could legally contribute to Reform’s campaign coffers. There is also no limit on the amount that can be given. So it is quite feasible for a billionaire who is not resident in the UK or registered to vote in British elections to put a fat financial thumb on the scales of democracy.
Labour’s election manifesto committed to “protect democracy by strengthening the rules around donations to political parties”, but what that means in practice has yet to be determined. No legislation to enact the pledge is being prepared. To the extent that there has been any public debate about foreign disruption of British democracy in recent years, it has dwelled on covert operations by hostile states. The volume of Russian disinformation is increasingly recognised as a hazard in online discourse. The recent scandal around Prince Andrew’s involvement with a Chinese businessman accused of espionage has drawn attention to the scale of efforts by Beijing to infiltrate UK institutions and influence policy.
It doesn’t make sense to include open interventions from the US – a democracy and a close ally – in the same category as secret subterfuge by authoritarian regimes. But that doesn’t mean there is no issue with American money distorting and potentially corrupting British politics. Some traffic in policy and campaign styles from Washington to Westminster is inevitable, given the historical intimacy of the alliance and shared language. But cultural overlap does not equate to common jurisdiction. American billionaires throwing their rhetorical and financial weight behind political parties cannot, and must never, be accepted or normalised as part of the transatlantic political dialogue.
