On Saturday 6th September 2025, the usually calm and welcoming market town of Faversham, Kent was shaken. For the past five years that I’ve called this place home, it has felt like a community rooted in acceptance and kindness. But this weekend, that sense of safety was put to the test.
An anti-immigration protest was organised to descend on our town. In response, a counter-demonstration quickly came together, people from Faversham and beyond standing against the far-right presence, and thankfully, outnumbering them.
In the days leading up to the protest, the signs were already there. Dozens of St George’s Cross flags appeared around Faversham. It should be a symbol of pride, community, and shared history, but instead, it had been hijacked yet again by fear, ignorance, and divisive rhetoric.
But, the message from the far-right is depressingly simple: “If you don’t look like me, sound like me, or worship like me, we don’t want you here.” It’s a message built not on truth, but on fear and misinformation, drip-fed through echo chambers and amplified online. Their hatred shown in both voice and of course, gestures.
On Saturday, the streets were loud. Both groups chanted, both stood firm. In the end, the counter-demonstrators chose not to escalate the situation, stepping aside to let the march continue rather than risk violence.
The far-right protestors headed towards Acacia Court, a facility used to house minors seeking asylum. At the time of the protest, I believe it held just two unaccompanied minors. Think about that, two children, alone in a foreign country, they were the supposed “threat” that justified a march of hatred.
Thankfully, they were met once again by counter-demonstrators when they arrived. The thought of what might have happened if the far-right had broken through into the building doesn’t bear thinking about.
This weekend was more than just a protest. It was a sign of something deeper, a fracture in our society. People no longer talk. They consume the narratives handed to them via social media and between those who think similar, rarely questioning, rarely listening, and never challenging.
Ultranationalism has never ended well. History tells us that. When people define their pride in opposition to others, hating those they’ve never met, clinging to achievements they never made, the only outcome is disintegration.
We need to remind ourselves: the people crossing the Channel in small dinghies are not our enemies. They are human beings, fleeing circumstances we can barely imagine. If we want to find real threats to our communities, we need to look upwards, not sideways.
Those who come here with nothing are not breaking society. Those who sit on billion-dollar yachts while whole towns struggle to survive, they are the ones draining us.
Faversham stood up on Saturday. It showed resistance. But it also showed how fragile our sense of community can be in the face of manipulation. The real test ahead is whether we choose fear and division, or empathy, truth, and unity.
