The House | Clacton and Makerfield show we are living in an era of high-stakes politics

4 min read22 min

Clacton had all the ingredients for a low-turnout vote: a summer by-election, a seemingly inevitable Nigel Farage victory, and a main opponent wearing a dustbin on his head. Turnout usually falls between a general election and a by-election. But at 43 per cent, turnout was higher than expected, and on the hottest day of the year.

And it wasn’t a one-off: by-election turnout is no longer dropping as much as it used to. In Gorton and Denton, it nearly matched the general election; likewise, the Caerphilly by-election turnout beat the record for any national Senedd election. 

Makerfield saw the second-highest by-election turnout since 2000, and it was the first constituency since 1987 to surpass the previous general election in a by-election turnout. 

It’s a common, but perhaps flawed, truism that high turnout is a sign of a healthy democracy, an empowered and engaged public. Low turnouts, on the other hand, are seen as a sign of disillusionment. In 2001, Britain recorded its lowest turnout in almost a century – triggering worried speculation about the state of our democracy. Independent MP Martin Bell called the 59.4 per cent turnout “the saddest statistic of the whole election”.

A key feature of high-stakes politics is voting against, rather than for

The positive aspect of high turnout was often on display in Makerfield, where some voters said it felt like a “privilege” to choose the next prime minister. Ed, an engineer, told us: “More people knocked on our door and more leaflets have come through our door in the last two, three weeks than in my 40 years of voting in elections.”

But high turnout can also have a dark side. It is often a symptom of polarisation and existential fear of the other side winning: the 2020 US presidential election saw record turnout at a time of deep division, and it remained high in 2024.

Likewise in Britain, many of the by-elections with surprisingly high turnout have been examples of high-stakes, high-threat politics. In Gorton and Denton, we spoke to left-leaning voters terrified by the prospect of a Reform UK win, and willing to vote for “literally anyone” to prevent it. But with no clear safe anti-Reform choice, we heard from people trapped in a kind of tactical paralysis, combing online forums and Facebook groups for evidence of whether Labour or the Greens stood the better chance. On the day of the result, Issy, a training manager, told us she had been “pretty much up all night wondering, oh my God, did I make the right choice?”

A key feature of high-stakes politics is voting against, rather than for. Back in Clacton, Mike, a retiree, recalled meeting friends at the pub. When the by-election came up, he said: “There wasn’t one person who knew who they would vote for. They knew who they wouldn’t vote for.”

This has real consequences for Farage and his party. In Clacton, he proved he could motivate 22,000 people to show up against expectations and vote for him. But that nearly 10,000 turned up to vote for a man dressed as a bin is a sign the anti-Reform vote is mobilised too. Many voters across politics feel Reform is too great a risk, and would hold their nose and back a different candidate to keep them out of government.

A few months ago, Labour also risked being punished by the tendency to vote against: many on the right were willing to rally behind Reform to get Starmer out of government. But with the left looking more united and the right more divided, the stakes now appear highest for Farage himself.

It seems questionable that high-stakes politics is really a sign of a healthy democracy. Perhaps the right response to 2001’s abstentionism came from the then home secretary Jack Straw, who said the low turnout reflected “the politics of contentment” – a time that seems a long way from our turbulent politics of today.

Luke Tryl is the Executive Director of More in Common UK