Author Archives: Roz Savage MP

There is a deep fault line running through politics today. On one side are those who believe people should be empowered – free to learn, question, create and fulfil their potential. On the other are those who believe society functions best when people are compliant – guided from above and discouraged from asking too many questions.

For Liberal Democrats, that divide goes to the heart of our philosophy. Our commitment to liberty, equality and democracy begins with a belief in people. Liberalism assumes that individuals, when given freedom, opportunity and a meaningful voice, are capable of shaping their own lives and contributing to the common good.

But history shows that every increase in human freedom has been contested.

• The right to vote.
• The right to education.
• The right to organise politically.
• The right of women to participate fully in public life.
• The right to speak freely, worship freely and live openly.

Each advance faced fierce resistance from those who feared what might happen if ordinary people gained greater agency over their own lives. That tension continues today. Across the world we see governments concentrating authority, narrowing the space for dissent and tightening control over information. Even in long-established democracies, many citizens feel decisions affecting their lives are drifting further away from them.

The deeper question behind these trends is philosophical rather than procedural: what do we believe human beings are capable of? Do we trust people to think, deliberate and take responsibility? Or do we assume most people need to be managed – even controlled?

Taiwan’s digital minister Audrey Tang captured this when she said:

It’s not about whether people trust the government. It’s about whether government trusts the people.

Taiwan’s Covid response demonstrates what that philosophy looks like in practice. The government released public data and invited civic technologists to help design solutions. Hackathons brought together volunteers to build tools such as the now-famous “mask map”, showing real-time availability of masks across pharmacies. Citizens were not treated as passive recipients of policy. They became collaborators in solving the problem. Because information was shared openly, trust grew rather than eroded. Mask wearing became a widely accepted social norm rather than a political battleground.

I have a dark and deeply embarrassing confession to make.

I once voted for Margaret Thatcher.

Please don’t rush to judge me just yet. I’m sharing this not to shock, but because it contains an uncomfortable truth about how people really make political choices – and what liberals ignore at our peril.

When I cast that vote, I was young and foolish – and politically uninformed. I didn’t grow up in a household where politics was discussed. My parents voted, but never said who for. Politics wasn’t taught in school, at least not in any meaningful way. I didn’t yet have the tools to ask the most basic questions of power: who funds this party? What does the leader actually believe? Who benefits from their policies – and who pays the price?

That leads to the first lesson. Citizenship education matters. Democracy only works if people are equipped with critical thinking skills, not just facts, but the habit of interrogation. Without that, voters are left to rely on shortcuts or haphazard choices.

Which brings me to the second lesson: visibility matters. At the time, Thatcher was already Prime Minister. She was familiar. I felt I knew her. And the human brain, wired as it is to minimise risk, usually prefers the known to the unknown.

We see the same dynamic today. Donald Trump’s rise was not just about ideology; it was about exposure. He was ubiquitous long before he entered politics. People felt they knew him, and familiarity breeds a misplaced sense of safety.

I hear a similar pattern emerging among younger voters in the UK. Many are gravitating towards Reform or the Greens, not because they’ve exhaustively compared manifestos, but because those are the voices that dominate their digital world. The larger parties are simply absent from their daily reality.

Ask yourself honestly: are you more likely to trust a party that speaks directly into the spaces you inhabit, or one whose existence barely registers?

The third lesson is the most uncomfortable of all. Voters are drawn to leaders with clear, coherent principles – even when those principles are deeply flawed.

The brain is a prediction machine. It wants to know what comes next. Leaders who behave erratically feel unsafe, in the same way an unpredictable caregiver feels unsafe. Consistency, even toxic consistency, can be reassuring.

For all his many faults, Trump usually tells us what he intends to do. He may not deliver on everything, but his underlying themes – self-interest, deal-making, aggression – form a grimly coherent worldview.