Binyamin Jayson is a writer focusing on UK politics and Conservative thinking.
The emergence of a new isolationist wing of the Republican Party, often described as the “Isolationist Right”, has been swift and, by many measures, highly effective.
It has succeeded in capturing large parts of the conservative conversation and, increasingly, the party itself. Yet for those of us who consider ourselves genuine conservatives; committed to fiscal responsibility, limited government, and enduring conservative principles, this trend ought to be a source of real concern.
The reason is simple. The values promoted by this new American right are, in many cases, not conservative at all. Indeed, they appear to confirm the infamous horseshoe theory: that political extremes, though rhetorically opposed, often end up resembling one another. Beneath the patriotic rhetoric and nationalist language, many of today’s right-wing commentators sound strikingly similar to the far radical left, only draped in the flag.
Take, for example, the language used toward capitalism and private enterprise. Tucker Carlson increasingly speaks about corporations in much the same terms as the left, as though business itself were an adversary rather than a cornerstone of prosperity. Nick Fuentes, meanwhile, has spoken openly and positively about socialism and praised figures traditionally associated with the far left.
Both engage deeply in identity politics, reducing individuals to race, religion, or ethnicity rather than judging them by merit or character.
For many of us, one of conservatism’s great strengths was precisely its rejection of identity politics. Conservatism once stood firmly for meritocracy. It opposed DEI not because it benefited minorities, but because it replaced individual judgment with group preference. And by the same logic, it rejected favouritism toward any majority population.
The conservatism I believe in does not hire someone because they are white or because they are black; because they are straight or because they are trans; because they are Christian or because they are Muslim. The beauty of conservatism is that your value is defined by what you bring to the table; what you contribute to your work, your community, and your country.
The new American right has instead framed debates on immigration and national identity almost entirely through the lens of ethnicity and nationalism. This shift is, in part, a reaction to the excesses of the previous era. Under Barack Obama and Joe Biden in the United States, and during much of the 2010s in the United Kingdom, individuals were often labelled “far right” simply for identifying with their flag or for refusing to apologise for their whiteness.
That backlash is understandable. What is far more troubling is that those who so effectively confronted radical views on the left have been markedly less willing to challenge the same impulses now emerging within their own ranks. This tension was on clear display at a recent Turning Point USA event, where Ben Shapiro publicly rejected those within the MAGA movement who hold views fundamentally incompatible with conservatism.
He argued that the Republican Party should not serve as a refuge for Holocaust denial, antisemitic conspiracy theories, or fantasies about Jewish power, views that fall well outside the bounds of mainstream political debate.
The response was swift and intense. Several prominent commentators, including some he had implicitly criticised, accused Shapiro of employing a tactic associated with the radical left: cancellation. Even Vice President J.D. Vance appeared to take a subtle swipe, suggesting that unlike others, he would not exclude members of the movement so long as they considered themselves patriots.
Here, I must disagree. Retaining the coalition assembled under Donald Trump does not require abandoning conservative principles. Patriotism alone is not a governing philosophy, and elections cannot be won on symbolism without substance. When principle gives way togrievance and conspiracy, a movement loses both moral clarity and electoral viability.
In this light, J.D. Vance’s rhetorical alignment with figures such as Tucker Carlson and Nick Fuentes appears to be a serious political miscalculation. His criticism of Ben Shapiro, combined with his reluctance to confront antisemitism directly and his scepticism toward Israel, represents a shift well beyond any position Donald Trump himself ever took.
More importantly, it was a shift that was unnecessary. Even within Turning Point USA (an audience already predisposed toward the New Right) only 13 percent of attendees expressed anti-Israel views. That figure hardly justifies repositioning oneself so drastically. There was no strategic imperative to soften responses to antisemitism or to distance oneself from Israel and Zionism to this level.
While figures such as Tucker Carlson, Candace Owens, and Nick Fuentes are loud and influential online, they remain fringe. Most Americans do not share their worldview. There is a real danger that the Republican Party is repeating the very mistake that cost Democrats theirstanding under Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. Rather than maintaining the broadly mainstream positions that characterised the Obama era, Democrats allowed the excesses of woke ideology to dominate their agenda, and voters responded by rejecting those fringe positions.
Republicans would be wise to learn from this.
The country is far more moderate, pragmatic, and normal than online discourse may suggest. Allowing fringe voices to define the party risksalienating the very electorate needed to win national elections. The growing tolerance for ethnonationalism and overt racism within segments of the Republican Party should concern every serious conservative. It demands the same moral clarity and resistance once directed at the radical left.
This so-called “woke right” mirrors its counterpart in disturbing ways: it flirts with socialism, embraces identity politics, and rejects core conservative principles. When a movement turns against Ronald Reagan, it forfeits any credible claim to conservatism.
These figures are not the true patriots they claim to be. On the contrary, they undermine the philosophical foundations that made American conservatism principled, persuasive, and electorally successful.
If the Republican Party is to endure, it must confront this internal challenge honestly, before the line between conservatism and radicalism disappears altogether.
In British politics, we have our own traditions, institutions, and intellectual inheritance, and it would be a serious mistake to assume that we are immune to the same temptations now reshaping the American right.
Binyamin Jayson is a writer focusing on UK politics and Conservative thinking.
The emergence of a new isolationist wing of the Republican Party, often described as the “Isolationist Right”, has been swift and, by many measures, highly effective.
It has succeeded in capturing large parts of the conservative conversation and, increasingly, the party itself. Yet for those of us who consider ourselves genuine conservatives; committed to fiscal responsibility, limited government, and enduring conservative principles, this trend ought to be a source of real concern.
The reason is simple. The values promoted by this new American right are, in many cases, not conservative at all. Indeed, they appear to confirm the infamous horseshoe theory: that political extremes, though rhetorically opposed, often end up resembling one another. Beneath the patriotic rhetoric and nationalist language, many of today’s right-wing commentators sound strikingly similar to the far radical left, only draped in the flag.
Take, for example, the language used toward capitalism and private enterprise. Tucker Carlson increasingly speaks about corporations in much the same terms as the left, as though business itself were an adversary rather than a cornerstone of prosperity. Nick Fuentes, meanwhile, has spoken openly and positively about socialism and praised figures traditionally associated with the far left.
Both engage deeply in identity politics, reducing individuals to race, religion, or ethnicity rather than judging them by merit or character.
For many of us, one of conservatism’s great strengths was precisely its rejection of identity politics. Conservatism once stood firmly for meritocracy. It opposed DEI not because it benefited minorities, but because it replaced individual judgment with group preference. And by the same logic, it rejected favouritism toward any majority population.
The conservatism I believe in does not hire someone because they are white or because they are black; because they are straight or because they are trans; because they are Christian or because they are Muslim. The beauty of conservatism is that your value is defined by what you bring to the table; what you contribute to your work, your community, and your country.
The new American right has instead framed debates on immigration and national identity almost entirely through the lens of ethnicity and nationalism. This shift is, in part, a reaction to the excesses of the previous era. Under Barack Obama and Joe Biden in the United States, and during much of the 2010s in the United Kingdom, individuals were often labelled “far right” simply for identifying with their flag or for refusing to apologise for their whiteness.
That backlash is understandable. What is far more troubling is that those who so effectively confronted radical views on the left have been markedly less willing to challenge the same impulses now emerging within their own ranks. This tension was on clear display at a recent Turning Point USA event, where Ben Shapiro publicly rejected those within the MAGA movement who hold views fundamentally incompatible with conservatism.
He argued that the Republican Party should not serve as a refuge for Holocaust denial, antisemitic conspiracy theories, or fantasies about Jewish power, views that fall well outside the bounds of mainstream political debate.
The response was swift and intense. Several prominent commentators, including some he had implicitly criticised, accused Shapiro of employing a tactic associated with the radical left: cancellation. Even Vice President J.D. Vance appeared to take a subtle swipe, suggesting that unlike others, he would not exclude members of the movement so long as they considered themselves patriots.
Here, I must disagree. Retaining the coalition assembled under Donald Trump does not require abandoning conservative principles. Patriotism alone is not a governing philosophy, and elections cannot be won on symbolism without substance. When principle gives way togrievance and conspiracy, a movement loses both moral clarity and electoral viability.
In this light, J.D. Vance’s rhetorical alignment with figures such as Tucker Carlson and Nick Fuentes appears to be a serious political miscalculation. His criticism of Ben Shapiro, combined with his reluctance to confront antisemitism directly and his scepticism toward Israel, represents a shift well beyond any position Donald Trump himself ever took.
More importantly, it was a shift that was unnecessary. Even within Turning Point USA (an audience already predisposed toward the New Right) only 13 percent of attendees expressed anti-Israel views. That figure hardly justifies repositioning oneself so drastically. There was no strategic imperative to soften responses to antisemitism or to distance oneself from Israel and Zionism to this level.
While figures such as Tucker Carlson, Candace Owens, and Nick Fuentes are loud and influential online, they remain fringe. Most Americans do not share their worldview. There is a real danger that the Republican Party is repeating the very mistake that cost Democrats theirstanding under Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. Rather than maintaining the broadly mainstream positions that characterised the Obama era, Democrats allowed the excesses of woke ideology to dominate their agenda, and voters responded by rejecting those fringe positions.
Republicans would be wise to learn from this.
The country is far more moderate, pragmatic, and normal than online discourse may suggest. Allowing fringe voices to define the party risksalienating the very electorate needed to win national elections. The growing tolerance for ethnonationalism and overt racism within segments of the Republican Party should concern every serious conservative. It demands the same moral clarity and resistance once directed at the radical left.
This so-called “woke right” mirrors its counterpart in disturbing ways: it flirts with socialism, embraces identity politics, and rejects core conservative principles. When a movement turns against Ronald Reagan, it forfeits any credible claim to conservatism.
These figures are not the true patriots they claim to be. On the contrary, they undermine the philosophical foundations that made American conservatism principled, persuasive, and electorally successful.
If the Republican Party is to endure, it must confront this internal challenge honestly, before the line between conservatism and radicalism disappears altogether.
In British politics, we have our own traditions, institutions, and intellectual inheritance, and it would be a serious mistake to assume that we are immune to the same temptations now reshaping the American right.