I rarely write about politics, but recent events — particularly the murders of conservative voices and the disturbing celebration of those deaths by sections of online political activism — have prompted me to reflect on a broader contradiction. A movement that often presents itself as a defender of tolerance, inclusion, and opposition to dehumanisation can, in some of its more radical activist and intellectual expressions, appear willing to excuse, rationalise, or even celebrate hostility towards political opponents once those opponents have been categorised as morally unacceptable.

The argument of this essay is not that all people who identify with progressive politics hold these views. That would be both inaccurate and intellectually lazy. Rather, the focus is on certain strands of contemporary progressive-left activism, particularly within some feminist-left, social-justice-oriented, and academic activist environments, where a moral framework has developed that can come into tension with the principles of classical liberalism. These tendencies frequently draw upon concepts associated with liberal thinkers such as Karl Popper while, I argue, sometimes stretching those ideas beyond their original purpose: replacing open disagreement with moral classification, and moving away from traditional class analysis towards increasingly identity-centred interpretations of social conflict.

A significant current within these progressive-left spaces faces a serious ideological tension. It often presents itself as a defender of tolerance and inclusion while, in certain cases, supporting forms of political exclusion or moral condemnation that appear difficult to reconcile with those principles. This tension is particularly visible in interpretations of Karl Popper’s Paradox of Tolerance, which argues that a tolerant society cannot indefinitely tolerate movements committed to destroying tolerance itself. The difficulty emerges when this principle is extended beyond groups that reject democratic pluralism and rational debate, and instead applied to ordinary political disagreement. If disagreement itself becomes framed as a form of harm or oppression, then the foundations of liberal debate begin to erode. The issue is not that progressive-left thinkers misunderstand or reject Popper, but that some applications of his argument risk transforming a defence of liberal society into a justification for restricting liberal freedoms.

At the centre of this development is the increasing moralisation of political identity. Within some social-justice-oriented communities, political beliefs are not simply treated as competing interpretations of society but as indicators of deeper moral commitments concerning power, privilege, and justice. As a consequence, disagreement can sometimes be interpreted not as a challenge to an argument but as evidence of harmful beliefs or participation in unjust structures.

This represents a departure from the classical liberal tradition associated with thinkers such as John Stuart Mill and Thomas Paine, where disagreement, criticism, and open debate are viewed as essential tools for testing ideas and discovering truth. If opposing arguments are automatically understood as expressions of personal harm or moral failure, the space for persuasion and mutual understanding becomes increasingly narrow.

In some activist environments, the rules of intellectual engagement have therefore shifted. Rather than confronting opposing arguments directly, some individuals reject debate itself on the basis that participation creates an unfair burden, grants legitimacy to harmful views, or places marginalised groups in uncomfortable situations. This can contribute to a form of conceptual expansion, where terms such as “racism”, “fascism”, or “violence” are applied more broadly than their traditional meanings would suggest.

The concern is not that these concepts are meaningless. Racism, fascism, and oppression are genuine political and social realities. The concern is that when such terms are extended to cover a wide range of mainstream democratic disagreements, they risk becoming instruments of moral exclusion rather than tools of serious analysis.

For example, describing every supporter of stricter border controls as inherently motivated by racism removes important distinctions between legitimate policy disagreements, individual prejudice, and extremist ideology. A liberal democracy depends upon the ability to distinguish between movements that genuinely threaten democratic freedoms and citizens who hold different views within the boundaries of democratic debate.

Supporters of these progressive-left frameworks would argue that oppression is not always visible or intentional, and that social harms can be embedded within institutions, systems, and cultural assumptions. From this perspective, unequal outcomes may persist even without explicit discriminatory motives. However, I argue that the framework becomes vulnerable when the definition of harm expands so widely that ordinary democratic disagreements begin to resemble direct forms of coercion or violence. At that point, abstract theories of systemic harm risk being used to justify very concrete forms of exclusion, including censorship, professional consequences, or social ostracism.

Another important dimension of this debate concerns class and identity. Over the past decade, parts of the progressive-left movement have shifted emphasis away from traditional economic analysis and towards identity-based interpretations of inequality. I argue that this shift can allow institutions and elites to focus heavily on representation, language, and symbolic recognition while avoiding more difficult questions surrounding economic structures, wealth concentration, and material inequality.

This argument does not suggest that identity-based concerns are illegitimate. Race, gender, and other social categories can significantly shape people’s experiences and opportunities. However, I contest that when identity becomes the dominant framework for understanding inequality, economic class and material conditions risk becoming secondary concerns — particularly for working-class communities whose most immediate challenges often involve wages, housing, employment security, healthcare, and public services.

This tension becomes particularly relevant when considering policies designed to correct disadvantage. If the purpose of a university admissions policy is to address unequal opportunity, then factors such as household income, parental education, school quality, neighbourhood deprivation, and access to social networks may provide more precise indicators of disadvantage than race alone. A wealthy applicant from a minority background may possess considerably greater structural advantages than a poor applicant from a majority background, yet a system focused primarily on demographic categories may struggle to account for this difference.

My argument is not that minority applicants do not experience barriers. They plainly can and do. The issue is that demographic categories can sometimes function as imperfect substitutes for measuring actual disadvantage. A class-focused approach would prioritise the conditions that most directly restrict opportunity: poverty, educational inequality, family circumstances, economic insecurity, and unequal access to resources and networks.

This tension is particularly visible within affluent and highly educated progressive-left environments. I argue that some socially radical positions can, at times, operate as forms of status signalling, allowing privileged individuals to demonstrate moral commitment while remaining relatively insulated from the practical consequences of the policies they support. The concept sometimes described as “luxury beliefs” reflects this concern: that certain cultural positions may provide social status among educated elites while imposing costs more heavily on less privileged groups.

This does not mean progressive beliefs are inherently dishonest or that concerns about inequality are manufactured. Rather, it highlights a possible disconnect between the environments in which certain ideas are developed and the communities most affected by their implementation. Ideas formed in elite institutions may not always account for the practical realities faced by those with fewer resources and less influence.

Ultimately, the concern is not with equality, justice, or solidarity with marginalised groups. These values are not exclusive to any single political tradition and have long been central to liberal and working-class movements. The concern is that some progressive-left frameworks, when taken to their most rigid conclusions, risk replacing liberal pluralism with moral certainty — creating a politics where disagreement is interpreted not as a legitimate difference of opinion but as evidence of personal or ethical failure.

A society committed to freedom must be capable of recognising genuine injustice while preserving the ability to debate, challenge, and persuade. Once political opponents are viewed not as citizens with competing arguments but as representatives of moral evil, the foundations of democratic discussion begin to weaken.

The challenge for progressive movements is therefore not to abandon their concern for justice, but to ensure that the pursuit of justice remains compatible with the liberal principles of open debate, intellectual humility, and tolerance of disagreement.

Further, liberty requires recognising that political identity should not become a complete explanation of an individual’s beliefs. A person may support economic redistribution while questioning certain cultural policies; defend minority rights while challenging particular theories of identity; support free expression while opposing genuinely hateful conduct. A free society depends upon allowing these combinations.

Democracy cannot function if citizens are expected to choose a political tribe and inherit its entire worldview. It depends on individuals who are willing to think independently, challenge ideas from every side, and refuse to surrender their judgement to any movement claiming a monopoly on truth.

Put simply:

If knowing one of your political positions means I can predict all the others, you are not an independent thinker — you are not a person, you are a parrot.

Imagine a world in which a person could hold five principles from one political party and four from another.

Political parties might then have to start working!