The aborted ‘2025 Sentencing Guidelines Review’ is another milestone in the public’s growing recognition that the state is institutionally biased against them. Britain’s reckoning with mass immigration has taken a long time to emerge, but a confluence of factors – the riots, asylum dumping and the renewed focus on rape gangs-has seen increased attention to the fact that we live in a ‘two-tier’ society. Those not of recent extra-European heritage are systematically treated less favourably when compared to people from immigrant diasporas.

People will contest this but evidence, even if eclectic in nature, abounds. While ‘positive discrimination’ is technically illegal under the Equality Act 2010, ‘positive action’ is permitted and has been encouraged in a variety of institutional settings. This is often the case for educational institutions and roles, young White British aspirant professionals opt for, such as Oxbridge (where the proportion of white students has declined from 78% in 2016 to 68% in 2021) or in the Civil Service Fast Stream, which deliberately bans prior the submission of prior educational qualifications and prioritises applications from favoured backgrounds.

We can also turn to both the state’s treatment of inter-ethnic violence. As we all know, local police and councils tolerated, facilitated and now, as it turns out took part in the racialised sexual abuse of young white girls throughout the country. The response to the Southport riots compounded the racial victimisation of white working class communities. The very legitimate rationale for the riots (opposition to the sequestering of predatory male migrants in towns traumatised by the mass rape of adolescents) were treated as irreducibly pathological. There are many more cases I could discuss like the fact that a member of the Bengali gang which murdered Richard Everitt is a sitting Labour councillor in Camden (he’s Abdul Hai if you want to look him up). But to summarise Britain is definitively a two-tier society. Our institutions legally permit and are encouraged to discriminate against whites. Whites are subject to racial violence by non-whites, with the complicity of the police;, the legacy media serves to obfuscate the reality of these crimes, by fixating on or (as the recent propaganda flic ‘Adolescence’ demonstrates) completely inventing incidences of white violence.

The Sentencing Guidelines Review would have formalised this state of legal discrimination against white people. Specifically, it would have mandated the compilation of pre-sentencing reports for members of ethnic/religious minorities facing criminal prosecution, which would then have to be considered prior to judgement, potentially alleviating their sentences because of their ‘marginalised’ background. Many of the usual Bombay run slop accounts gleefully reported that the British electorate had voted to be subject to racial discrimination, but of course this is based on a misrepresentation of the role of the Sentencing Council, the body responsible for the initiative. The Sentencing Council, established in 2010 by the union of the Sentencing Guidelines Council and the Sentencing Advisory Panel, is independent of Parliament, and like its predecessors is designed to provide ‘impartial’ outlines of appropriate sentencing practices to judges and magistrates. The Labour government, conscious of public hostility because of its ham-fisted response to the riots, has scuppered the plans through emergency legislation. But the question remains of how, an initially determined body of unelected legal advisors, came close to implementing a policy pretty much universally opposed across the political spectrum.

It is important to contextualise the Sentencing Council within the wider framework of the Blairite constitutional revolution which occurred at the turn of the century. Reforms sought to create greater judicial independence of Parliament and uniformity in sentencing practices. The Constitutional Reform Act in particular established a Supreme Court, which replaced the Lords of Appeal in Ordinary (conventionally known as the ‘law lords’, as they were members of the upper house appointed by the Queen on recommendation by the Prime Minister) as the highest appellate court in the country. It also neutered the role of the Lord Chancellor, a member of the Privy Council (and therefore appointed by the Prime Minister), ending the office’s position as head of the judiciary, and transferring these to the Lord Chief Justice. In turn, the responsibility for judicial appointments traditionally held by the Lord Chancellor was transferred to the Judicial Appointments Commission, which is also partly responsible for the appointment of the Lord Chief Justice.

While this sounds technical in nature, the long-term consequence of these policies has been to establish a judiciary which is self-contained in its own selection processes, and largely free from any external political supervision. Judges are selected by other members of the legal profession, in the form of the Judicial Appointment Commission. This committee is appointed by Lord Chief Justice. In turn sentencing guidelines are set by a committee comprised of judges and legal professionals, who are also appointed in part by the Lord Chief Justice. The Lord Chief Justice is also appointed with the advice of the Judicial Appointment Commission.

Our judiciary, while institutionally independent, is not politically independent. Very obviously, judges and members of the legal profession are not neutral arbiters of the law, but have ideological biases which, as recent events keep demonstrating, are brazenly on display. There is no reason why we should pay deference to this obfuscatory system in which the lives of British people are now decided by unelected tax barristers. It is positively medieval that Baroness Carr of Walton-on-the-Hill, scion of Wycombe Abbey, should be able to lend her support to the depositing of Palestinian migrants in unsuspecting provincial towns.

There are many who believe, mistakenly, that we should turn back the clock to the pre-Blairite judicial settlement. This would involve abolishing the sentencing council, repealing the Constitutional Reform Act and therefore also abolishing the Supreme Court. While this might sound appealing to any self-identified High Tory A-level politics student, it fails to recognise the complete ideological capture of the judiciary which has occurred in the last 30 years. If you’re serious about wanting a government which is committed to a moderate Trumpian program of immigration restriction and selective deportations, let alone something more radical, we need to completely rethink the relationship between our legal and political system. Upon election, a reformist government will have to countenance the fact that judges, responsible for decisions like this, will still in positions of power. These are class enemies who must be denuded of authority. The hope that we can return to some halcyon era of common law, judges in big wigs and jurisprudential reservation in politics, is delusional.

The alternative is based on a recognition that there is, as the father of modern political thought Thomas Hobbes identified, no such thing as the ‘rule of law’. Laws, in a literal sense, cannot rule. When we describe rule of law systems, we are describing the rule of a clerical caste of individuals. This class is empowered because they have been designated as wielding a uniquely authoritative capacity to divine the meaning of various legal documents, documents which are predicated on the assumption that there is some intrinsic sacrality to the species homo sapiens. This is much closer in spirit, if not actual genealogy, to pre-modern traditions. It is alien to our political culture which stems from the English Enlightenment’s emphasis on empirical enquiry. We must therefore establish something which is institutionally novel, but which is influenced by the perennial traditions of our people. It must be a system which elucidates and does not obscure the holding of power, resting authority firmly in the state, which in turn must be legitimised through the fulfilment of contractual obligations to the people of the commonwealth.

I turn to Singapore as an exemplar which we could learn from. While some might regard this as a hackneyed model for the British right, Singapore remains a fascinating political experiment. This is because it has built on the strengths of the Westminster system, hybridising the tradition of oligarchic absolutism with a meritocratic selection process for state personnel. The relationship between its judiciary and the executive provides a ready made blueprint for implementation in Britain. In Singapore, the President appoints judges to the High Court and the Appeal Court on the advice of the Prime Minister, while members of the State Court (equivalent to Crown courts in the UK) and magistrates are appointed by the President on the advice of the Chief Justice (who is also appointed by the President). Singapore maintains an effective, politically deferential but not corrupted judicial system, which fulfils its basic purpose of maintaining social order.

In the UK, an imitative system would operate as follows. The executive functions of Parliament would be embodied in a ‘state-protector’, who would be elected directly and would exercise all the historical royal prerogatives, including the right of selecting and creating judges. The Privy Council would be renamed the Council of State, and would be an empowered cabinet, with the Lord Chancellor resuming some of its historical roles of advising appointments and leadership of the judiciary. The Lord Chancellor and Lord Chief Justice already have the power to recall judges and this would be exercised against everyone from magistrates to members of the High Court (the Supreme Court will have been abolished, with ‘law lords’ being reinstated as part of meritocratic second chamber). Judges, if they were deemed based on their sentencing record to have aided and abetted demographic replacement and failed to uphold the general security of the British people, would be recalled. New judges would be selected where possible from politically aligned members of the legal profession, but if not, laymen would be brought in.

A new system of regulation would be established, in which all judges would be subjected to a triennial county wide referendum, with voters given the right to recall judges if they were deemed to have failed to uphold law and order. The State-Protector, on the advice of the Lord Chancellor, could also recall judges if they were deemed to have failed their role independent of this process. Sentencing records would be published on a bi-annual basis, and judges’ pay and prospects of promotion would be directly tied to relative improvements on crime rates prior to when they took office. Trial by jury, increasingly pointless in a society in which judgement by equals is a statistical anomaly, would also be abolished. Finally, sentencing would be prescriptively dictated by the executive, with no leeway for juridical discretion. Britain’s body of statute law would be codified into a version of the Napoleonic civic guide, providing a clear and understandable legal system to the public, deriving its core ethical principles of retributive justice from ancient Germanic law.

The reforms proposed would definitely end the feudal-cum-Marxist inspired system of arbitrarily pro-criminal legal rulings and racial discrimination. Judges would cease to be theocratic protected class hiding behind legal obscurantism to defend their pathological identification with criminals. Many will doubtlessly say this article is motivated by an ignorance of the legal system or some populist aversion to expertise of lawyers. This self-referential and crassly snobbish defence of the legal system offered by self-hating lower middle lackeys like the ‘Secret Barrister’ should be dismissed out of hand. Law, even in a system such as our own, is, literally, whatever the sovereign says it is (our system is unique in that the sovereign consents to be constrained); you cannot be an ‘expert’ in law, as you can in marine biology or economics, it is an entirely normative science.The operations of legal systems and the judgements made by them should not be unintelligible to the people, nor radically contrary to our conventional sense of justice. The state derives its legitimacy from the security of its core stock. As we can currently see, a state which forgets this fundamental fact will find itself in dire straits.