Exclusive Interview: The Original Populist—Nigel Farage on His Bond with Trump​

I met Nigel Farage at the “Trump Bar,” a gilded lounge in the Trump International Hotel in Washington, D.C., where the chandeliers glisten and the air hums with political intrigue. Farage, the ever-provocative leader of Britain’s Brexit Party, arrived in a dark gray suit, a gin and tonic in hand—his drink of choice quintessentially British.

As we settled in, the interruptions began. One after another, Trump supporters and Republican CPAC goers approached, eager for a handshake, a word, a photo with the man they have come to know as “Mr. Brexit.” He obliged them with the ease. For Farage, the spectacle is not a distraction. It is the point.

“What, if anything, do you think explains the fascination of the American Republicans with you?” I asked.

Farage chuckled, settling into his characteristic blend of self-awareness and bravado. “Oh Gosh, you are asking an Englishman a personal question like that and expecting a straight answer,” he said, before launching into a memory from his youth.

He recalled the moment he decided to skip university at 18. “I could not waste three years of my life being taught by left-wing professors,” he said matter-of-factly. “I was highly ambitious at eighteen, probably a touch overconfident, touch precocious in some way. I fitted straight into the world of business.”

Farage’s first job was with the infamous Wall Street powerhouse Drexel Burnham Lambert, a firm whose swaggering ethos was summed up by the motto displayed over the front desk: “No guts, no glory.” It was, after all, the original inspiration for Wall Street, the film that cemented the image of high-stakes capitalism in the 1980s.

“I found very quickly that I had a good affinity with Americans and American businesspeople,” he reflected. “Somehow, the way I speak, what my attitude is, or what my approach is, it just always worked in America.”

That transatlantic ease didn’t go unnoticed. “Lou Dobbs, the veteran Fox Business broadcaster, once said, ‘Nigel, you’re more of an American,’” Farage recalled.

Politically, however, a connection between Nigel Farage and America came through Brexit. Long before the rise of Trump, there was Nigel Farage—the “original populist.”

 “They call me a populist. I like to call myself a nationist,” Farage told me.

What it means to be a nationist, he explained, is simple: “I believe in the nation-state being the essential building block in which we wish to live. I was convinced that the European project was about the creation of a new state. I couldn’t see that effectively abolishing nation-state democracy was going to make the world more peaceful, more prosperous. So I was kind of early to that.”

His skepticism of the establishment began long before Brexit became a household term. “I decided that I would leave the establishment before even joining the establishment and fight them,” he said.

In those early days, he sought out like-minded voices, attending pressure group meetings and intellectual debates. It didn’t take long for disillusionment to set in. “I went to a few meetings of pressure groups, intellectual debates, and I realized—what’s the point? They come into the room, the conservative backbenchers, Labour members of the House of Lords… they sit at the committees at Westminster and say, isn’t it terrible? And then they go back and still support their party.”

For Farage, that kind of complacency was never an option.

Farage’s political beliefs were, by his own account, met with fierce opposition—both in the media and among what he calls the “metropolitan elite.” Early on, he noticed a stark contrast between the conversations unfolding in Westminster and the sentiments brewing in his own village in Kent.

“I realized the gap was enormous. So that was what inspired me to do something about it. And as I set out on this course, everyone laughed at me.”

That gap—between the political class and the public—became the fault line on which he built his career.

By his own admission, Farage has always been something of a contrarian. “I’ve always been a nonconformist. I look very conventional, but I was always a rebel.”

It begged the question: If he was so opposed to the European Union, why join the European Parliament? His answer was blunt. “It was the only opportunity to get a voice.”

And once he had one, he never let go.

Enter Donald Trump

After the EU Referendum shocked the world, Nigel Farage’s post-Brexit holiday took him not to some secluded retreat, but to the heart of American politics—the Republican National Convention in Cleveland. There, he found himself among the Mississippi delegation, where he met Governor Phil Bryant, a staunch admirer of Farage’s work.

“He was watching all my speeches in the European Parliament,” Farage told me, still amused by the reach of his influence.

It was Governor Bryant who orchestrated the first meeting between Farage and Donald Trump.

“We missed each other a couple of years earlier. I was in New York,” Farage said. “We were supposed to meet in about 2014. But it didn’t happen. But Trump was very aware of what I was doing. He was aware of Brexit and what the process was. And he agreed with it.”

That awareness led Farage to Mississippi, where he was invited to speak at a private dinner ahead of a Trump rally. What happened next was unexpected—even for him.

“We go on to the basketball stadium for the Trump rally, and 10 minutes before the rally starts, Stephen Miller says to me, ‘We’d like you to speak at the rally.’”

And just like that, the man who had helped pull Britain out of the EU found himself center stage in America’s populist revolution.

Nigel Farage is careful—almost deliberately so—when it comes to discussing his private conversations with the American president. He won’t divulge details, but he does offer a glimpse into their dynamic.

“All I can say to you is that Donald Trump’s style doesn’t appeal to everybody. He’s a real-estate guy from New York. He’s a New Yorker. That’s who he is. It doesn’t suit everybody. I have no problem with it at all. No problem with his directness.”

Farage recalls their first meeting, the moment he felt an immediate connection.

“I felt that the first day we met and spent some time together. I like this guy. I believe in this guy. I like the fact that he wanted to fight.”

It was Mississippi that sealed his allegiance. “Because of Mississippi, my colors were nailed to his mast.”

Farage: Theresa May laughed at me

During the 2016 election, Nigel Farage was one of the few public figures to predict a Trump victory.

“I’ve seen Brexit, and I thought this is the same phenomenon. It’s the same game. Nobody in DC will ever get this. They’ll never understand what’s happening in middle America.”

It was a familiar feeling. Just months earlier, he had watched the same political and media class misread Brexit.

“Nobody in London understood,” he said.

Though only two years had passed, the Brexit referendum was already a landmark moment in modern history. Farage, always eager to remind people of his foresight, was willing to give an inside look.

“The Thursday before the U.S. election, I spoke at The Spectator dinner in London. They gave me an award. I was ‘insurgent of the year,’ or something like that. Everyone was there. Theresa May sitting at the front table.”

And then came the moment he clearly relishes retelling.

“So I said, ‘Thank you for the award, this is great. Given that we’ve had the Referendum, a lot of speculation about my future, I have to tell you the next Wednesday morning I am on the first flight to D.C. because I want to congratulate Donald Trump for winning the presidency.’”

The reaction was instant—and scornful.

“The whole room burst into mockery. And Theresa May was hehehehe,” he mimicked. “They all thought it was so funny. So funny. Here he is, this bloody idiot, Nigel Farage again. He’s so thick. He’s so stupid. We’re so much more clever than him. We’re so much better than him.”

He leaned in, smiling as if he were still savoring the punchline.

“That’s what they thought about me from the start. And you know what? They still think that about me.”

Does it bother him? Not in the slightest. If anything, it amuses him.

“I wouldn’t want to socialize with them. I wouldn’t want to meet them. I wouldn’t want to have dinner with them. I can’t stand them,” he said without hesitation. “These are the most appalling people, and I think Brexit needs to signal the beginning of a revolution about how we do politics and who’s engaged in politics. So yeah, they are notmy people. I don’t care what they think. But it was just amazing how they laughed.”

He paused, allowing the moment to land.

“And of course, Trump won.”

The Gold Elevator

On Saturday afternoon, November 11, 2016, three days after the election, Nigel Farage was in New York, stepping into the gold elevator at Trump Tower on 5th Avenue alongside Arron Banks, the man who bankrolled Brexit. 

“We popped in to see Steve Bannon, and Kellyanne Conway said, ‘Trump’s free, he’d love to see you.’ We went and saw him.”

Farage delivered the line casually, but there was no mistaking the significance of the moment. He paused before continuing, as if weighing just how much to reveal.

“I have taken more criticism, more abuse in the early days for supporting Donald Trump than for anything I’ve done before. All the media hate him. He was not given a break by anybody. And yeah, in that sense, it was hard. But it wasn’t hard because I believed in Trump. I have been unwavering.”

Unlike Boris Johnson, Farage pointed out with something close to disdain.

“Boris wouldn’t even visit New York in case he’d bumped into Donald Trump. They all said horrible things, every one of them said horrible, disobliging things about him.”

Farage, by contrast, doubled down. Over the past four years, he and Trump have met many times—some meetings were public, others were not.

“There were times when you [the public] know I met him, but there were times when you had no idea that I’d met him or spoken to him,” he said, emphasizing his discretion. “I’d never, ever repeat a single word of what Trump said to me in a conversation, because he can trust me, and I wanted him to trust me.”

He paused, then added with finality:

“Listen, we became friends through this.”

Trump’s critics often argue that he does not listen, that he is immune to advice. I asked Farage if that was true.

His response was swift.

“Donald Trump is a decision-maker, and decision-makers are nearly always much better listeners than anybody ever gives them credit for. I’ve watched Trump in conversation with different people. He listens. He takes in ideas. He makes his mind up. Oh, absolutely. He’s not told by some bureaucrat what he should and should not do. This guy’s a leader.”

For Farage, that quality—unapologetic, instinctive leadership—is precisely why he has stood by Trump from the beginning.

Trump’s re-election 2020

In late February, just before transatlantic travel ground to a halt due to the pandemic, Nigel Farage took the stage at CPAC in Maryland, where he was met with thunderous applause from Trump’s supporters. The moment, for Farage, was more than just a speech—it was a signal. He believes that soon, the conservative conference will expand to Europe.

I asked him directly: “Was CPAC a prelude to an official role in Trump’s re-election campaign?”

“No. I don’t have an American passport, and that makes things difficult,” he admitted. “But do I intend, as an overseas person with a high profile, to appear on American media to comment on the contest as it goes forward? To go to the debates as they happen? Yeah. I am going to do all that.”

Farage was, as ever, unshakably certain about the election’s outcome.

“Trump’s gonna win,” he told me, without hesitation. His reasoning? Three things.

“First, there is nobody in the Democratic field that can even compete with Trump in those debates. The second reason, Trump can go to the people and say: I have delivered on my promises. The third reason, whatever the stock market does with coronavirus, there is a very large number of American people who are better off now than they were when he first came to power. And for those three reasons, Trump’s gonna win.”

Beyond Trump, Farage believes something more fundamental has shifted in global politics. The public, he argues, is rejecting the polished, robotic politicians of the past.

“These kinds of very goody two-shoe types, smooth, boring people becoming Prime Ministers. We’re now attracting personalities. They aren’t always gonna be pretty. The public just wants real people, with real views.”