Let me start by saying this: if you ever wondered what it would look like if a political event were designed by someone who’s never actually won an election, Liz Truss’s attempt to import CPAC to the UK is the answer. It’s not just a failure of execution—it’s a masterclass in how to make a room full of people feel like they’ve been tricked into attending a funeral for their own political ideology. And yet, there’s something oddly poetic about it. Because what Truss has done isn’t just a failed event; it’s a mirror held up to the current state of British conservatism, reflecting all its contradictions, delusions, and desperate attempts to cling to relevance.
Personally, I think the most fascinating aspect of this whole debacle is how it reveals the chasm between Truss’s public persona and the reality of her political capital. She’s not just hosting a conference—she’s trying to resurrect a version of herself that no longer exists. The Liz Truss who once stood in Downing Street, surrounded by the ghosts of her own missteps, is now reduced to playing host to a group of aging ideologues who’ve been repeating the same tired arguments for decades. What makes this particularly fascinating is the sheer audacity of it. How does someone who’s already been humiliated by history think they can stage a comeback by importing a US political spectacle that’s more caricature than movement?
The venue choice alone is enough to make you question whether Truss’s team has any grasp on basic logistics—or reality. Hosting CPAC in a hotel next to the O2, a venue synonymous with music and entertainment, is like trying to sell a funeral service at a comedy club. And yet, this decision feels less like a strategic move and more like a symbolic gesture: a way to signal to the world that even London, the city she once claimed was a ‘no-go zone’ for foreigners, is now safe enough to host her failed political experiment. What many people don’t realize is that this isn’t just about geography—it’s about the complete disconnection between Truss’s rhetoric and the actual lived experience of the country she’s supposed to represent.
Now, let’s talk about the speakers. If you’ve ever attended a CPAC event in the US, you know it’s a spectacle of hyper-partisanship, where the line between politics and performance blurs. But Truss’s version? It’s like watching a group of retirees try to reenact a rock concert with a karaoke machine. Toby Young, the man who once made a career out of being ‘free speech’s most vocal advocate,’ delivered a speech that was less about policy and more about proving that he still remembers how to use a microphone. And Andrew Griffith, the shadow business secretary, seemed more interested in avoiding eye contact with the audience than in making a coherent argument. It’s not that these people are bad speakers—it’s that they’re speaking to a room that’s already decided they’re irrelevant. A detail that I find especially interesting is how none of them seemed to notice the irony of being in a room where even the audience was half-empty.
What this really suggests is that the far-right wing of the Conservative Party isn’t just out of touch—it’s actively allergic to the idea of relevance. When Matt Goodwin, the self-proclaimed ‘civilisational erasure’ expert, started talking about jailing people for inciting fires at refugee hotels, it wasn’t a policy proposal. It was a performance. A way to signal to his base that he’s still in the game, even if no one else is watching. And yet, the crowd’s response was telling. The applause was sparse, the engagement nonexistent. It’s not that people don’t believe in the message—it’s that they’ve stopped caring about the messenger. This raises a deeper question: when your political movement is defined by outrage and conspiracy theories, how do you attract an audience that’s already moved on?
And then there’s the matter of the event’s timing. Hosting CPAC in the UK feels like a last-ditch effort to revive a political brand that’s long since expired. Truss, who once promised to ‘get Brexit done,’ is now trying to sell a vision of Britain that doesn’t exist. The Atlantic Strategy Institute, her latest venture, is less a think tank and more a desperate attempt to paper over the cracks in her legacy. If you take a step back and think about it, this whole affair is less about policy and more about identity. Truss isn’t trying to change the world—she’s trying to convince herself that she still matters. And in that, she’s not alone. The entire UK Conservative Party seems to be trapped in a time loop, repeating the same mistakes while pretending they’ve learned from them.
In the end, this CPAC event was a microcosm of everything wrong with modern British politics. It was a gathering of people who’ve lost touch with reality, speaking to an audience that’s either asleep or already gone. And yet, there’s a strange beauty to it all. Because in a world where political discourse is increasingly defined by absurdity and delusion, Truss’s CPAC was the perfect metaphor for the times we live in. It wasn’t just a failed event—it was a warning. A reminder that when a political movement becomes more concerned with spectacle than substance, it’s not long before the audience walks out.
