Political Cannibals: How the Left Ate Itself.

Across the West, the left is devouring itself. We are witnessing a very strange feast, not one that takes place around tables but within political parties. The image is almost biblical: progressives and centrists locked in a ritual of self-consumption while the far right advances unopposed.

I call this phenomenon political cannibalism: the process by which leftist movements sabotage themselves through factionalism, purism and endless infighting. It isn’t just a metaphor for disagreement. It’s a way of understanding how movements collapse from within when the pursuit of moral perfection outweighs the pursuit of power. Every internal feud, every purity test, every splinter group is another bite taken out of our collective strength. And as the left consumes itself, the right gathers momentum. From Trump’s MAGA movement in the United States to the rise of Reform UK under Nigel Farage, the far right thrives not through brilliance or discipline but through the vacuum left by division.

The left’s greatest enemy is not always the right. It is its own inability to stand together against it. Each election cycle becomes another autopsy, another round of soul-searching that ends with the same conclusion: we split the vote, again. We mistake ideological correctness for political efficacy and, in doing so, hand victory to those who would dismantle democracy itself.

If we are forever policing who is truly left, how can we ever mobilise effectively against the authoritarian right? The lesson is brutally simple. Without solidarity, there is no survival.

Political cannibalism begins with the illusion of moral superiority. It feeds on the idea that compromise is betrayal and that ideological purity is the only legitimate form of resistance. The problem is not conviction; it is perfectionism. Principles become weapons, and those who deviate even slightly are cast out.

The result is paralysis. The right unifies around power while the left fragments around principle. The question shifts from how do we win? to who among us is pure enough to deserve to? We are so accustomed to litigating internal hierarchies that we forget politics is not a moral seminar but a struggle for power.

This self-devouring instinct produces exactly what the far right needs: a divided, distracted opposition. The tragedy is that every ideological skirmish weakens the very causes we claim to defend. We do not lose because we are wrong. We lose because we cannot agree long enough to act together.

If political cannibalism had a modern British chapter, it would begin with Jeremy Corbyn. Once the figurehead of a resurgent socialist movement, he became its first casualty. Labour’s internal war over Corbynism was not merely a clash of policies but a full act of self-consumption. What should have been a debate about direction became a purge of identity, leaving behind a party too busy fighting itself to fight power.

Then came Zarah Sultana’s Your Party: the supposed answer to Labour’s drift toward centrism. It promised a revival of grassroots socialism, a new home for the disillusioned. Instead, its launch became another cautionary tale. Reports of tension between Sultana and Corbyn over membership control and strategy spiralled into scandal. Supporters who had hoped for renewal began to turn away. What began as an act of resistance quickly resembled another performance of ego.

This is political cannibalism in motion: the inability to separate disagreement from existential threat. Each figure, whether Corbyn or Sultana, believes they are protecting the soul of the movement. In truth, they are starving it. Reform UK does not need to out-organise the left when the left keeps amputating itself.

Across the Atlantic, political cannibalism takes a different shape but the same toll. As Kamala Harris faces Trump, the American left once again turns inward. Progressives accuse her of centrism; centrists dismiss the left as unelectable. Every internal dispute becomes another distraction from the actual threat of authoritarianism.

The obsession with ideological purity depresses enthusiasm, fractures turnout and hands momentum to MAGA. The right unifies around power; the left disintegrates around principle. In the end, Trump does not need to convert voters. He only needs to watch the left argue itself out of victory.

The cost of political cannibalism is measured in ballots, not theories. Every new splinter party, every feud, every refusal to compromise divides the very coalition capable of resisting the far right. In both Britain and America, this fragmentation translates directly into lost votes and lost seats. It is not abstract. It is arithmetic.

Each election, the same pattern repeats. The left divides itself across too many fronts and too many moral hierarchies while the right gathers quietly under one banner. The result is not a contest of ideas but a contest of cohesion, and cohesion always wins. Reform UK and MAGA do not triumph because their vision is popular. They triumph because the opposition cannot decide who deserves to be in it.

This is what makes political cannibalism so dangerous: it masquerades as moral clarity while delivering political suicide. The far right no longer needs to seize power by force; it inherits it through our exhaustion. Authoritarianism does not arrive all at once. It drips slowly into the cracks left by disunity.

The stakes are higher than another election cycle. Around us, the democratic fabric of the West is fraying. Media platforms reward outrage, institutions lose legitimacy, and apathy deepens. In this climate, division is not just naïve; it is fatal. Every split vote is a small act of surrender, another opening for the forces that thrive on chaos.

To speak of unity on the left is not to demand obedience or the uncritical backing of the least horrific option. It is not an endorsement of hollow centrism or moral compromise. I am not saying we must vote for whoever seems most electable, as many did reluctantly with Starmer’s Labour. What I am calling for is something far more urgent: a ceasefire in our civil war.

Unity does not mean silence. It means recognising that our internal disputes, however valid, cannot eclipse the shared task of resisting authoritarianism. A leader who disappoints you on policy is still better than a fascist who dismantles the conditions of democracy altogether. The difference is not marginal. It is existential. The luxury of perfect alignment disappears when the foundations of equality and freedom are at risk.

Collective action is not about settling for less. It is about ensuring there is still something left to fight for. Political cannibalism, if left unchecked, will not simply fracture the left-  it will destroy the very terrain on which resistance is possible. We cannot out-argue fascism on social media, nor out-purity it in manifestos. We can only outnumber it.

If the left continues to consume itself, it will hand victory to the very forces that seek to erase it. The call, then, is not for complacency but for coherence. For strategy. For the maturity to see that solidarity is not weakness but survival.

Because unless we learn to stop devouring one another, we will leave nothing but bones for the far right to feast on.