Britain is dying, not with a bang, but with a bureaucrat’s shrug. And the reason is simple: we’ve forgotten the first law of statecraft, control your borders, or be controlled.
There is no sovereignty without a border. Full stop. A Britain that cannot say who comes in and who stays out is not a sovereign nation. It is a doormat. A dumping ground. A fading memory pretending to be a country.
You can’t claim to love Britain and tolerate open borders. You can’t weep over the Battle of Britain and then wave through boatloads of illegal migrants. And you certainly can’t defend British culture while outsourcing British law to foreign courts, activist lawyers, and NGO parasites. That isn’t compassion. It’s cowardice.
From Marathon to Hastings, Vienna to the Blitz, nations have stood or fallen on their willingness to defend the line. The frontier is the nation made visible. You abandon it, and the rest collapses: language, law, loyalty, all swallowed by the borderless void.
We’re not witnessing “diversity.” We’re witnessing dereliction. A controlled demolition of national will. Every illegal migrant allowed to stay, every bogus asylum claim rubber-stamped, every British citizen told to sit down and shut up, this is a message: your country no longer belongs to you.
Well, no more.
The British people didn’t vote for endless influxes. They didn’t vote for foreign crime gangs, for imported antisemitism, for jihadis given hotel rooms while veterans sleep on the streets. They voted for Britain.
And Britain means borders. Clear. Enforced. Unapologetic. The right to decide who belongs, and who doesn’t.
This isn’t racism. It’s reality. Every real nation does it. Every sane people demands it. And if we don’t, then we’ve chosen decline. Chosen irrelevance. Chosen the long slide into the post-national mush where nothing is sacred, and nothing is ours.
History doesn’t wait.
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