Zack Polanski, The Hypnotherapist Hypnotising Britain Towards National Suicide

In the annals of British political eccentricity, few figures have risen quite so improbably as Zack Polanski (real name David Paulden), born in Salford in 1982, a man who reinvented himself at 18 by adopting his Jewish grandfather’s Polish surname while conveniently shedding the ordinary English name of his birth. Once an actor in immersive theatre productions and a Harley Street hypnotherapist specialising in “hypnotic breast enhancement” sessions, he is now, appropriately, leader of the fraudulent Green Party of England and Wales and a London Assembly member.

From a sane perspective, that of the ‘unfashionable’ view that holds Britain should remain a sovereign country with secure borders, fiscal sanity, cultural cohesion and the unapologetic right of its people to put their own interests first, Polanski’s “eco-populist” agenda is not just wrong, it is a masterclass in egregious damage, bordering on the deranged, and laced with a hypocrisy so rank it would embarrass a chameleon, or even Tony Blair. His policies, and those of the Green Party he now fronts, reveal a basic insanity: the delusion that you can dissolve the nation state, bankrupt the productive, flood the country with unlimited arrivals, legalise hard drugs and dismantle defence – all while pretending this somehow helps “ordinary people.” Worse, many are falling for the scam.

Let us start with the man himself, because the rebranding tells you everything. David Paulden from Salford becomes Zack Polanski, complete with the exotic ring that plays well in metropolitan circles. He once earned a living mesmerising clients into believing their busts could grow through the power of suggestion. Now he mesmerises voters with the suggestion that Britain’s problems, like housing shortages, NHS queues, creaking schools, stagnant wages, stem not from decades of open-door immigration, net-zero lunacy and welfare profligacy, but from “billionaires” and “the super-rich.” The sheer brass neck is impressive; here is a former property guardian in Hackney and drama student who changed his own name to make himself seem exotic insisting that British national identity is a crime. One wonders if he would apply the same logic to his own heritage. But consistency, like borders, is apparently for little people.

Nowhere is the insanity more glaring than on immigration, or, as the Green Party under Polanski prefers, the enthusiastic erasure of borders. Party documents and policies, which he has backed, outline a vision for “a world without borders.” Illegal arrivals would receive free accommodation, immediate access to the NHS, unrestricted right to work and a Universal Basic Income with no obligation to seek employment. Immigration detention would be scrapped entirely. Failed asylum claimants granted amnesty. All residents, regardless of legal status, handed the vote. Migrants treated as de facto citizens from day one. Polanski himself has declared “migrants and refugees are welcome here” and proclaimed migration “Britain’s superpower.” In one memorable BBC appearance, he explained the need for foreign care workers by musing: “One in five care workers are foreign nationals. Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly want to wipe someone’s bum.” How edifying. How compassionate. How utterly contemptuous of the British working class he claims to champion.

This is not pragmatism; it is the abandonment of the nation state dressed up as kindness. Britain already grapples with the entirely predictable consequences of mass, uncontrolled immigration: a housing crisis that prices out young families, an NHS stretched to breaking point, schools where English is a second language for swathes of pupils, and downward pressure on wages. Yet Polanski’s solution is to import more people to fill the jobs “we” supposedly won’t do, while British taxpayers subsidise the whole enterprise through UBI and free services. When challenged, he backtracks, telling Sky News in December 2025 that open borders are “not pragmatic right now” and were never in the manifesto, just an attack line used by opponents. But the internal papers and long-range vision remain. Safe routes, “managed migration,” more arrivals from Sudan, Eritrea, Yemen. Ukrainians were welcomed, so why not everyone else? The hypocrisy is breathtaking. Britain is not an infinite hotel. The nation state exists precisely to protect the people who built it, their descendants and the culture that makes the place worth living in. Polanski’s approach treats that as bigotry. The result? More strain, more resentment, less social trust – the very ingredients that have destabilised other European countries. And all sold as “eco-populism.”

The economic illiteracy matches the border madness. Polanski’s flagship is a wealth tax: 1 per cent on assets over £10 million, 2 per cent on billionaires, supposedly raising £15–25 billion a year to fund cheaper energy bills, universal basic income, free childcare, renationalised water companies and a host of other goodies. “Tax wealth, not work,” he intones, as though the rich are a static piggy bank rather than mobile capital with lawyers and private jets. France tried a wealth tax; it raised peanuts, drove entrepreneurs abroad and was eventually scrapped. Other experiments have followed suit. Polanski dismisses capital flight as a “myth.” Tell that to the investors who would simply relocate their assets, starving Britain of the enterprise that creates the very jobs and tax revenue he wants to redistribute. He demands renationalisation of utilities as though the state’s record, think British Rail, the 1970s nationalised industries, was one of glittering efficiency rather than bureaucratic waste and decline. Rent controls, scrapping council tax for some vague “fairer system,” borrowing more under “modern monetary” logic. This is not serious economics; it is the politics of the magic money tree wrapped in green ribbon. The plumber in Sunderland, the nurse in Southend, the factory worker in the Stockport, all will pay through higher taxes, slower growth, creaking services and a public sector bloated by ideology. The little guy Polanski claims to defend will be the one crushed when investment dries up and the economy stalls.

Then there is the net-zero obsession that ties it all together. Polanski links the cost-of-living crisis to climate change, promising to “make energy cheap” by taxing the rich and subsidising renewables. Never mind that Britain’s energy bills are already among Europe’s highest precisely because of the rush to intermittent wind and solar without adequate baseload he advocates. Families shivered last winter while subsidies flowed to rich owners of unreliable sources and imports from abroad. His solution? More of the same, funded by soaking the productive. The Green Party’s broader manifesto demands a “Nature Act,” reversing NHS privatisation and protecting everything from rivers to marine life, all delivered through the same high-tax, high-regulation straitjacket that has already made Britain one of the slowest-growing major economies. Ordinary people do not want lectures on planetary salvation while they choose between heating and eating. They want affordable energy now, not in some utopian future where the wind always blows.

If the economic and border policies were not deranged enough, consider the truly barking elements. Polanski backs the legalisation and regulation of all drugs – cannabis to crack cocaine and heroin – under a “public health approach led by experts, not politicians.” He volunteers that he has never taken drugs or alcohol himself, as though personal abstinence somehow validates flooding the streets with easier access to Class A substances. Britain’s NHS already buckles under existing addiction, mental health crises and drug-related crime. Legalising heroin while care workers (many imported, naturally) mop up the consequences is not progressive; it is public health self-harm on a national scale.

Then there is defence. The Greens want to sign the UN Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons, dismantle Trident, remove all foreign nuclear weapons from UK soil and push NATO towards “global peacebuilding” and “no first use.” In a world of resurgent Russia, aggressive China and Middle Eastern chaos, Polanski offers unilateral spiritual disarmament. He pledges allegiance to the King with “gritted teeth,” as though the constitutional monarchy is some embarrassing relic. Foreign policy becomes “peace and diplomacy” rather than the hard power that has kept these islands safe for centuries. The party’s positions on Gaza, arms sales to Israel and motions flirting with “Zionism is racism” and “Jews are an abomination” only add to the sense of a movement detached from reality and, at bottom, basic decency.

The Green Party’s recent surge, membership tripling to over 200,000 under Polanski, does not make any of this sane. It reflects frustration with the main parties, not endorsement of the agenda. Polanski’s “eco-populism” is reheated socialism with a climate veneer: proportional representation to amplify fringe voices, universal basic income to entrench dependency, animal rights and LGBTQ policies elevated above the concerns of the silent majority. The party conference has debated motions that would make even some in his own community wince. All the while, the actual British people – the sovereign power – are treated as an afterthought, their legitimate worries about identity, security and belonging dismissed as “far-right” bigotry.

Polanski’s project is an insult to the generations who built this country through grit, self-reliance and a proper sense of belonging. Secure borders are the foundation of a functioning society. Sound money and low taxes are the engine of prosperity. Strong defence is the cost of peace. Britain does not need a rebranded hypnotherapist peddling snake oil from a party that views the nation state as the problem rather than the solution. His policies would accelerate decline: cultural erosion, economic stagnation, social breakdown and strategic vulnerability. The British people need to recognise surrender when they see it. Polanski’s Britain is oblivion by another name – and the sooner it is consigned to the dustbin of eccentric political footnotes, the better.

Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad – let’s make sure that it’s Zac’s zany Greens, and not our country that is destroyed.