Some (Reform) pay £25,000 for the chance to meet the leader of their chosen political party in the Mayfair private members club Oswald’s. Others pay £11 for a day party ticket in Bristol. The Green Party Party Bristol, held at the end of July courtesy of the event organisers Green Space and Bog Bristol, involved 15 minutes of speeches, nine hours of techno and most of the segments of Zack Polanski’s electoral coalition.
Some of which seem fairly distant from each other: I met hippy-ish retirees and Gen Z art collective directors. Bristol itself was a pre-Polanski success story for the Greens, and the Bristol Central constituency’s MP is Carla Denyer, the party leader before Polanski. The venue – an industrial warehouse converted into a nightclub – had a more Polanski-ish feel. Behind the cement courtyard, where rows of Lost Mary users lined wooden benches, was the “Stimbarn”, an arts and crafts hub run in partnership with Stimulation Arts, a neuroqueer collective serving up a cocktail of origami, fidget toys, paint by numbers and embroidery.
Responsible for the art collective was Drew, 28, who believes that “the accessibility of art can be as much of a problem for psychological barriers as it can be for physical ones, and that the hardest thing sometimes can be overcoming the mental block of picking up a paintbrush”. And sinking into a sofa inside wearing a straw hat was Wayne, a 77-year-old retiree from Gloucestershire. He had travelled down from the Welsh border to see how his party is faring. “You’re not MI5, are you?” he asked (my paint-spattered Carhartt jeans and an embroidered “sardines” cap had been less effective than I’d thought). Wayne first joined the Green Party two years ago. Climate issues drew him in, but “in the last two years, environmentalism has fallen off a cliff”.
The Greens have to some extent departed from their former environment-first image under Polanski towards a programme more focused on wealth inequality, social justice and Palestine. In March, the New Statesman reported that more Green voters supported drilling in the North Sea (38 per cent) than opposed it (33 per cent). Still, Wayne was mostly pleased by his party’s new success. He told me it was “very encouraging to see so many young people” engaging with politics.
Our conversation was interrupted by the beat drops of Mousse T.’s 1998 house classic “Horny” (featuring Hot ‘n’ Juicy). The younger contingent was not yet present to dance, however, it still being some hours before Zack Polanski’s 7pm address. I spoke to Guy, 58, and his partner Mubarak, 38, who had come along as locals. Mubarak only moved to the UK three years ago, but says that as an immigrant, he was always going to be “left-leaning”. He sympathises with the soft immigration rhetoric of the Green Party: “Around the world, and I have lived in many countries, every country blames its immigrants. In my home country, Kenya, Somalians were blamed for our issues. Here, it’s the same thing. I want everyone in Britain to know this: I have never used the NHS, but I still pay £1,000 per year on top of tax. I know another guy who does the same, but he has children, so it’s even more.” He is referring to the Immigration Health Surcharge (IHS) that costs £1,035 per year for most work and temporary visas. Guy, however, is a more recent recruit for the Green Party. “In 2024, I voted for Labour, but before that mostly Conservative.”
Around 5pm, the youth started rolling in and headed straight for the speakers. The music tops out at 90 decibels, which Google reliably informs me is about the level of a lawnmower or a nearby motorcycle, and the place was literally rocking. Then it was time for the main event. Fresh off the Eurostar, Polanski spent some time skanking onstage to a remix of DJ Mike B’s “Feel My Energy” in the moments before he took the mic. For some, such as Alice, a 38-year-old dressmaker, this was the pinnacle of today’s proceedings and the primary reason for attending, something to tick off the “bucket list”. When the rapture of applause finally concluded, Polanski opened his speech: “Where are my green menaces? I said, where are my green menaces at?”
Polanski talked of joy and community as instruments of resistance. He talked of protest, referencing the moment in 2020 when Edward Colston’s statue was dragged into Bristol harbour. He talked of solidarity with the “brothers, sisters and siblings in Berlin” who were the victims of a ramming attack at Berlin Pride. Eventually, his speech was brought to a close with talk of hope. “We are hope, we are change. Hope is wealth taxes. Hope is rent controls. Hope is saying and doing, and ending the genocide. So friends, thank you so much for being here, I’m going to dance. Enjoy the rave.” With that, Lobsta B took the stage and played Polanski’s motif “Rhythm of the Night” briefly as the leader stepped away from the stage to the swarm of selfies and cameras. The crowd, which now included Polanski in its ranks, went back to their dancing.
In the days following, the public would see a very different event from the one I did. Polanski would collaborate on a post, sharing a photo of a man wearing a T-shirt that appeared to be threatening Nigel Farage with a guillotine. In the weeks following, the fears of the Green Party’s eco-populism causing division was realised. Polanski, who at this point represents the Green brand as much as any manifesto can, is watching his popularity in steady decline. 35- to 49-year-olds were equally positive and negative about him six months ago, and now there is a 12 per cent discrepancy against him. That was shown in the Manchester mayoral by-election, where they returned 12.2 per cent of the vote (a campaign at which they said they were “throw[ing] the kitchen sink”. The Burnham bounce appears to be real. What was once a feeling of relentless political optimism is now facing political scepticism, and the path onwards looks a bit less like a party.
[Further reading: Has Zack Polanski reached his peak?]
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