Key Takeaways
- The inaugural UK edition of CPAC attracted strikingly low attendance, with many sessions speaking to near‑empty rooms.
- High‑profile figures such as former Prime Minister Liz Truss, Reform UK leader Nigel Farage, and Australian senators Pauline Hanson and Bridget McKenzie participated, but only Farage drew a sizable, enthusiastic crowd.
- The programme mixed mainstream conservative talking points with fringe content, including anti‑vax panels, conspiracy‑theory speakers, and cryptocurrency advocacy.
- Critics, both inside and outside the right‑wing spectrum, described the event as shallow, overly American‑styled, and failing to energise British conservatives.
- Organisers signalled intent to repeat the conference next year, viewing the poor turnout as a learning experience rather than a fatal flaw.
Arrival and First Impressions
Stepping into the InterContinental Hotel’s Arora Ballroom for the opening of CPAC London, I noted a sparsely populated room where only a few dozen people listened to former Prime Minister Liz Truss launch the conference. Truss, sporting the conference’s flashing lights and upbeat music, called for dismantling the civil service (“the blob”) and lamented the rapid turnover of UK leaders since 2016. Her own 49‑day premiership in 2022—famously outlasted by a livestreamed lettuce with googly eyes—had left her politically marginalised, making her presence at CPAC a curious footnote rather than a rallying cry. The modest turnout hinted at broader disengagement with the event’s format.
Venue Atmosphere and Attendance Woes
The conference was staged in North Greenwich, a partly gentrified industrial zone that felt soulless compared to London’s cultural landmarks. Empty corridors, deserted bars, and a near‑vacant exhibitor hall reinforced the sense that the event struggled to attract participants. Observers repeatedly complained that the program leaned too heavily on American‑style razzle‑dazzle—flashy presentations, loud music, and high‑energy staging—which felt alien to a British audience accustomed to more subdued political gatherings. A telling moment came when Truss asked the crowd about Mayor Andy Burnham; the response was a handful of tepid boos, and one attendee later quipped that the auditorium showed more life than a supermarket clearance bin.
Speaker Highlights: Liz Truss and the “Blob” Narrative
Truss’s opening address set the tone for much of the conference: a denunciation of bureaucratic inertia and a call for a radical overhaul of state institutions. She framed the civil service as a self‑serving elite that thwarted democratic mandates, a theme that resonated with some attendees but left many unmoved. Her speech was delivered with the confidence of a former premier, yet the half‑filled room underscored the limited appetite for her brand of confrontational rhetoric in the current political climate. The episode also highlighted the irony of a leader whose own premiership collapsed in under two months now positioning herself as a champion of anti‑establishment reform.
Nigel Farage’s Stand‑out Performance
In stark contrast to the thin crowds elsewhere, Nigel Farage’s address on Friday afternoon attracted a noticeably larger, engaged audience. The Reform UK leader delivered a 30‑minute, note‑free speech that touched on immigration, economic anxiety, and the party’s prospects for the 2029 general election. His rhetoric—“a battle for the soul of our nation”—elicited a standing ovation from the sympathetic listeners present. Farage’s ability to command attention, despite the overall low turnout, illustrated his enduring draw among a segment of right‑wing voters dissatisfied with mainstream Conservative offerings.
Pauline Hanson and Bridget McKenzie’s Marginal Slots
Australian senators Pauline Hanson and Bridget McKenzie each secured speaking slots, but their audiences were markedly small. Hanson spoke to roughly 120 people on Saturday morning, a figure that dwindled further when McKenzie took the stage later that day. McKenzie’s address veered into atypical territory, defending foreign aid as a strategic tool to curb Chinese influence in the Pacific—a stance that drew scepticism and silence from the sparse crowd. The low attendance for these international guests reinforced the perception that CPAC London struggled to resonate beyond its core activist base.
Fringe Content and Conspiracy‑Theory Panels
Interspersed among the more conventional political talks were sessions that veered into fringe territory. A panel titled “The Truth About Covid” featured prominent anti‑vax activists, including Danish doctor Vibeke Manniche—who holds a suspended prison sentence for issuing invalid COVID exemptions—and Austrian physician Maria Hubmer‑Mogg, dismissed from a clinic for her anti‑COVID stance. Another session, “The Problem With Central Banks,” hosted cryptocurrency advocates, while earlier slots had been re‑branded from critiques of “the blob” to questions about white working‑class boys. The presence of figures like American activist Jack Posobiec, known for pushing the debunked Pizzagate conspiracy, further signalled a willingness to platform discredited narratives.
Audience Reactions and Internal Critiques
Many attendees expressed disappointment that the fringe elements diluted potential constructive dialogue. Ellie Reynolds, a survivor of child sexual abuse by grooming gangs, spoke on Saturday about a genuinely serious issue, yet her message risked being overshadowed by the surrounding sensationalism. Several participants confided that the event felt shallow and overly sensationalist, arguing that it detracted from legitimate conservative concerns such as the cost‑of‑living crisis, migration pressures, and educational reform. The prevailing sentiment was that CPAC London prioritized spectacle over substance, leaving serious policy discussions under‑served.
Media and Political Commentary
External commentary mirrored the on‑ground impressions. The Spectator labelled the conference “shallow, senseless and utterly detrimental to the conservative cause it claimed to champion,” while Conservative Home criticized it as a cheap imitation of its American counterpart, lacking authenticity for a British audience. Moderate conservatives viewed the gathering as too radical, whereas hard‑liners felt it did not go far enough. This bifurcated reception underscored the difficulty of translating the US‑based CPAC model into a UK context without significant cultural recalibration.
Organisers’ Outlook and Future Plans
Despite the tepid response, CPAC chair Matt Schlapp struck an optimistic note, declaring that the inaugural UK edition had laid a “good foundation” for future summits. His remark was interpreted as an acknowledgment of low turnout coupled with a commitment to return next year, hopefully with refinements that better suit British sensibilities. Schlapp’s own profile—frequently cited in US CPAC events and facing multiple, albeit unresolved, allegations of sexual assault—added another layer of controversy to the organisation’s credibility.
Personal Reflection and Closing Thoughts
Leaving the venue, I was left with a series of questions about the direction of right‑wing politics, both in Britain and abroad. The conference succeeded in gathering a handful of dedicated activists and a few high‑profile speakers, but it failed to ignite the broader conservative base that organisers hoped to mobilise. The juxtaposition of earnest policy talks with fringe conspiracy panels, the conspicuous absence of mass attendance, and the lingering sense of an imported American spectacle left me doubtful that CPAC London, in its current form, will become a durable fixture on the UK political calendar. Whether future iterations can recalibrate tone, content, and outreach remains to be seen, but for now the event feels more like a cautionary experiment than a rallying point for the right.