Lib Dems propose tech levy to fund £250m online crime agency

If we want to be a party of government, we need a message for the whole country
An MP acknowledges the Lib Dems' struggle to expand beyond their southern strongholds and build national appeal.
Mark

So the Lib Dems are proposing a tech levy to fund an online crime agency. That sounds concrete. Why does the party feel it needs to make this announcement now?

Mimi

Because they're in a visibility crisis. They won 71 seats in 2024—their best result in a century—but polling shows only 39 percent of voters can actually name what they stand for. That's lower than Restore Britain, a party that didn't even exist until February.

Luke

Wait—lower than Restore Britain? How is that possible? Restore Britain has one MP. The Lib Dems have 71.

Mimi

Exactly. It's not about the number of seats. It's about message penetration. Only 16 percent of voters have heard from the Lib Dems recently, versus 66 percent who've heard from Reform. The party is being drowned out.

Mark

And the tech levy—is that a new idea, or have they been sitting on this?

Mimi

It appears to be part of a broader conference push to set out clearer policies. Davey announced fuel duty cuts and bus fare reductions the same weekend. The Online Crime Agency is focused on child exploitation, trafficking, and deepfake pornography—serious issues.

Luke

But here's the question: will a levy on tech companies actually work? Who decides which companies pay? How much do they pay? The source doesn't say.

Mark

And geographically, where is the party's real problem?

Mimi

The south of England. They hold 58 of their 71 seats there. Only four are in the north. One MP said bluntly: if you want to be a party of government, you need a message for the whole country, not just parts of it.

Luke

So the real issue isn't the policy—it's that the party is regionally concentrated and nationally invisible. A tech levy doesn't fix that.

Mimi

No, it doesn't. But it's a start. The party is trying to show voters it has substance, not just tactical voting operations in safe southern seats.

Mark

What do the MPs themselves think?

Mimi

Some are frustrated. They say the party has plenty of policies, but voters don't know why they should vote Lib Dem—what the party represents. One activist compared it to curling at the Winter Olympics: noticed once every four years, then forgotten.

Luke

That's a vivid metaphor, but it raises a question: can a conference announcement actually change that? Or does the party need a longer-term strategy?

Mimi

That's what the party figures are hoping the conference will establish—a more coherent platform on the economy, immigration, and crime. But some MPs acknowledge the problem runs deeper than policy.

  • Despite a historic election result, the Lib Dems face a crisis of recognition: only 39% of voters understand what the party stands for—less than any major rival, including a party that launched just months ago with a single MP.
  • The gap in public presence is striking—only 16% of voters recall recent contact with the Lib Dems, against 66% for Reform, and Davey registers on social media at a fraction of Farage's reach.
  • The new Online Crime Agency proposal—targeting child exploitation, trafficking, and deepfake pornography, funded by a levy on big tech—is designed to be the kind of concrete, memorable policy that cuts through the noise.
  • Frustration is surfacing within the party itself, with MPs warning that support concentrated in southern England and reliant on tactical voting is not a foundation for national relevance.
  • The conference is being framed as a turning point, but the challenge is less about adding policies than about answering a more fundamental question: what do the Liberal Democrats actually represent, and why should anyone think about them between elections?

In Brighton, the Liberal Democrats gathered beneath the weight of a paradox: a party that had just achieved its greatest electoral success in a century, yet remained largely unknown to the voters it hoped to serve. The proposal to create a £250 million Online Crime Agency—funded by levies on the very technology companies whose platforms enable digital harm—was as much a statement of identity as it was a policy. Behind the announcements lay a deeper reckoning with what it means to win seats without winning minds, and whether visibility and purpose can be rebuilt before the next moment of democratic attention arrives.

The Liberal Democrats arrived in Brighton carrying an uncomfortable contradiction. Two years after their best election result in a century, polling released at the conference revealed that just 39 percent of voters understood what the party stood for—a figure lower than every other major party, including Restore Britain, a newcomer with a single MP launched only in February.

Against that backdrop, home affairs spokesperson Max Wilkinson was set to announce a new Online Crime Agency with a £250 million annual budget, funded by a levy on large technology and AI companies. The agency would target child sexual abuse material, drug and weapons trafficking networks, and deepfake pornography—crimes that flourish on the platforms the levy would tax. The argument was direct: these corporations enabled the offences and should bear the cost of combating them. The announcement joined other concrete proposals from leader Ed Davey, including cuts to fuel duty and bus fares, all designed to lodge in voters' minds.

But the numbers told a harder story. Only 16 percent of voters had heard from the Lib Dems recently, against 66 percent who had encountered Reform. On social media, Davey appeared to just 3 percent of voters compared with 20 percent who had seen Nigel Farage. The party sat static at around 12 percent in national polling. Davey defended his record in Sunday morning interviews, pointing to eight consecutive years of council election victories. Yet privately, some of his own MPs were more candid about the problem.

Tom Gordon, MP for Harrogate and Knaresborough, spoke openly at a fringe event about the geographic imbalance: four Lib Dem seats in the north of England against 58 in the south. Another MP put the identity problem plainly—the party had policies, but voters had no clear sense of what those policies represented or why they should choose the Lib Dems at all. A veteran activist offered a wry summary: the party was noticed once every four years, like curling at the Winter Olympics.

The conference was being positioned as a moment to build something more durable—a coherent message on the economy, immigration, and crime that could reach beyond tactical voting strongholds. Whether policy announcements alone could answer a question that was ultimately about identity remained the open and pressing challenge.

The Liberal Democrats arrived at their annual conference in Brighton facing an uncomfortable truth: despite winning their best election result in a century just two years earlier, most voters had no clear idea what the party actually stood for. It was this gap—between electoral success and public recognition—that shaped the announcements emerging from the gathering.

Max Wilkinson, the party's home affairs spokesperson, was set to unveil a proposal to create a new Online Crime Agency with an annual budget of £250 million. The agency would focus on some of the internet's darkest corners: child sexual abuse material, trafficking networks moving drugs and weapons, and the emerging threat of deepfake pornography created with artificial intelligence. The money would come from a levy on large technology and AI companies—a direct tax on the platforms where these crimes flourish. Wilkinson planned to tell delegates that these corporations had enabled the offences and should bear the cost of fighting them.

The timing was deliberate. Party leader Ed Davey had already announced other cost-of-living measures: a 10-pence reduction in fuel duty for three months and a cut to the bus fare cap from £3 to £1. These were concrete proposals, the kind meant to stick in voters' minds. Yet the party's own research suggested they had a serious problem. Polling released at the conference by More in Common showed that just 39 percent of voters said they understood what the Liberal Democrats stood for—a figure lower than every other major party, including Restore Britain, a political newcomer that had launched only in February with a single MP.

The numbers were stark across multiple measures. Only 16 percent of voters reported hearing from the Liberal Democrats in recent months, compared with 66 percent who had encountered messages from Reform. On social media, just 3 percent said they had seen Davey, against 20 percent who had seen Nigel Farage, Reform's leader. The party was static in national polling at around 12 percent, and there was a creeping sense that in an increasingly fragmented political landscape, the Lib Dems risked becoming invisible.

Davey pushed back against this narrative in media interviews on Sunday morning, insisting his party was making genuine change, not merely chasing headlines. He pointed to eight consecutive years of winning council elections—a record the party had never achieved before. "I'm talking about real change, not just talking about the bubbles," he told the BBC. Yet beneath the surface, frustration was building among some of his own MPs. Several said privately that the party's message had grown too vague, that its support relied too heavily on tactical voting in a limited number of places, mostly in the south of England.

Tom Gordon, the MP for Harrogate and Knaresborough, spoke openly at a conference fringe event about the geographic imbalance. The Lib Dems held just four seats in the north of England against 58 in the south. "If we want to be a party of government, then we need to have a message for the whole country, not just parts of it," he said. One unnamed MP acknowledged the deeper problem: "We already have quite a lot of policies, if people look at them. It's less about what you get if you vote Lib Dem than why you should—about what we represent. And people don't really know that."

A longtime party activist captured the sense of disconnection in a single image: "The voters only seem to properly notice us once every four years, when there's an election. It's a bit like being curling at the Winter Olympics—the rest of the time we're forgotten." The conference, then, was being framed as a turning point. Party figures saw it as an opportunity to establish a more coherent policy platform on the economy, immigration, and now crime. But the challenge went deeper than policy announcements. It was about identity, about giving voters a reason to think about the Liberal Democrats when an election was not imminent, about building a message that could reach beyond the party's traditional strongholds and speak to the whole country.

I'm talking about real change, not just talking about the bubbles. We have been winning council elections for eight years in a row.
— Ed Davey, Lib Dem leader, on BBC Sunday with Laura Kuenssberg
If we want to be a party of government, then we need to have a message for the whole country, not just parts of it.
— Tom Gordon, MP for Harrogate and Knaresborough
Envie de l'histoire complète ? Lire l'original sur The Guardian ↗
Nous contacter FAQ