Every day on the news, or in my inbox, it is clear that voters are restless, writes Rachel Gilmour MP.
They are frustrated with managerial politics.
They are wary of institutions.
And when they sense conviction, clarity, and purpose – even if they do not agree with every detail – they respond positively.
That’s what we saw in the Gorton and Denton by-election last month, and it’s what they continue to look for in politicians.
If we do not define clearly what liberalism stands for, others will fill that space with their own narratives of change.
The Manchester result is not simply about the Greens on the march.
It is about a wider hunger for something that feels principled and future-facing.
Every few years, someone tries to pin down the Liberal Democrats to a position on the traditional political spectrum.
Are you left or right?
Are you centrist?
It is an understandable question.
British politics has trained us to see everything through that narrow lens, but that lens no longer explains today’s world.
And it certainly does not capture what British liberalism is about.
The word 'liberal' has become slippery.
Some hear it and think no rules, no guardrails.
Others assume it means American-style progressivism.
Neither is correct.
British and West Country liberalism has its own tradition: rooted in liberty, fairness, community, and the decentralisation of power.
If we accept the old frame, we fight on someone else’s battlefield.
If we redefine it, we start telling a much more compelling story.
So how do we frame our values?
One way is to look at mindset – are we an open or closed party?
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Open politics is confident, cooperative, and outward-looking.
Is Britain better when we work with others, welcome new ideas, and adapt to change?
Or do we fall back to a 'Little England' mentality?
As liberals, we are unapologetically on the side of openness – to trade, to ideas, to scrutiny, to renewal.
If there is one axis that defines liberalism more than any other, it is whether power should be shared or hoarded.
Do we concentrate power in Westminster, in corporate monopolies, in unaccountable institutions?
Or do we share it – and give power back to the people?
When we argue for electoral reform, we are arguing for shared political power.
When we back community energy and SMEs, we are arguing for shared economic power.
That instinct – sceptical of concentrated power wherever it sits – is the golden thread of British liberalism.
And it is precisely this instinct that allows us to offer something distinctive in our winnable seats: not just protest, but power; not just anger, but agency.
At heart, liberalism is a moral philosophy.
Illiberal politics mobilises fear – fear of outsiders, fear of change, fear of losing control.
Liberalism is about freedom.
Freedom of speech, to love, to start a business or community project, to live as you wish, without diktat from above or commentary from below.
Freedom from arbitrary state power, from pollution, and from fear.
Freedom is not borrowed rhetoric.
It is the core of our tradition.
But it is always paired with responsibility and fairness.
My freedom cannot come at the cost of yours.
That balance – liberty with justice – is the distinctive hallmark of British liberalism.
It is distinctive too within West Country liberalism.
There is more that Liberal Democrats have to do in order to define ourselves.
But, if we stay true to our values, I have faith that we will show that liberalism is alive and well in Britain and the West Country.
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