K Harvey Proctor: I knew Enoch Powell and the outrage every time his name is invoked is simply not fair

K Harvey Proctor was MP for Basildon from 1979 to 1983 and for Billericay from 1983 to 1987.

When Sir Keir Starmer warned that Britain risks becoming “an island of strangers” without tougher immigration controls, it was not long before comparisons were drawn with Enoch Powell’s infamous 1968 “Rivers of Blood” speech.

The phraseology — evoking feelings of alienation in one’s own country — echoed across decades. Yet curiously, the reaction to Starmer’s remarks has been far more muted than if a Conservative politician, or anyone right of centre, had uttered the same words.

Consider the furore that followed Suella Braverman’s speech at the Conservative Party Conference in 2023, when she said the migratory “wind of change” that once brought her parents to Britain is now a “hurricane.” She was swiftly and widely denounced as echoing Powell and dismissed by many as stirring up division. The double standard is stark.

Even more revealing was the treatment of Susan Hall, the Conservative mayoral candidate for London, who faced a media storm for merely liking a tweet that referenced Powell. In today’s climate, invoking his name — even tangentially — can invite cancellation, outrage, or worse.

I knew Enoch Powell. I first invited him to speak in 1966 while I was Chairman of the York University Conservative Association. The event provoked uproar. Police lined the halls, and university officials, ironically for a place of learning, did nothing to defend free speech. Despite the backlash, Enoch spoke with clarity and purpose — the very qualities that made him one of the most formidable intellects of the 20th century.

Throughout my political career, Enoch remained a friend and inspiration. He was uncompromising, principled, and often right — particularly on matters such as inflation, immigration, and Britain’s membership of the European Union. He was no crowd-pleaser. He sought truth, not popularity.

The 1968 speech that now defines him in the public memory must be understood in context. Enoch did not incite hatred. He voiced concerns, shared by many then and now, about the scale and speed of demographic change. He feared that ordinary Britons might feel like “strangers in their own country” — a line echoed, almost verbatim, by Sir Keir Starmer. Yet Powell was denounced as a racist, removed from the Shadow Cabinet by Edward Heath, and turned into a pariah. Starmer, meanwhile, continues without the vitriol targeted at previous individuals who dare mention Powell.

In 1968, as Chairman of the University of York’s Conservative and Unionist Association, I invited Enoch to speak.

The association supported his stance on immigration and admired his courage.

Was Powell truly wrong in his predictions?

Look at our overstretched hospitals, overflowing classrooms, and fractured communities. Look at how Britain’s social cohesion is fraying. Whether we like it or not, many of his warnings have materialised. They deserve serious reflection — not ridicule.

Equally prescient was his opposition to Britain joining the European Economic Community. He saw the dangers of ceding sovereignty and foresaw the democratic deficit that would plague our membership. We left, and we were right to do so. The will of 17.8 million people must not be subtly undermined or reversed by slow attrition. History may yet prove Enoch correct on that too.

What saddens me is not just the selective outrage — it is the erosion of honest political debate. There was a time when Parliament housed true intellectual heavyweights: Powell, Keith Joseph, Ken Clarke, and Willie Whitelaw. Today, we scrape the barrel to fill ministerial posts. Few dare to speak plainly, let alone bravely.

It is not fashionable to praise Enoch Powell. But he was, I believe, the greatest Prime Minister we never had. To call him a prophet is not hyperbole — it is a recognition of the clarity with which he foresaw this country’s trajectory.

We must resist the temptation to judge historic figures through the narrow prism of modern sensitivities. History is not monochrome. It is a tapestry of ideas, beliefs, and voices — some uncomfortable, but many valuable.

I am proud to have called Enoch Powell a friend. I saw not a bigot, but a man of rare conviction and intellect — a man who, more often than not, was right.

We should not bury him under the weight of outrage. We should try, finally, to understand him.