As the plane turned onto the runway, I stole one last glimpse out the window before leaving Heathrow. I felt a lump build in my throat, and by the time the engines roared into life the tears were streaming down my face.

I hadn’t wanted to visit the UK. Don’t get me wrong, I love the UK (and its 42 different types of rain) and had lived there for several years. The history is fascinating, the trains are great, it’s close to everywhere, and there’s so much choice – food, clothes, travel.

But who wants to visit in February? I didn’t. That’s the month when you escape to the sun and get some rays, while the UK works off its festive slumber and decides whether spring is coming or not. And so, with a large dose of reluctance, I returned to the mother country after a five-year hiatus to attend the ARC conference.

There was another reason I was reluctant to go. This was my first trip back since the pandemic and after watching the world – UK included – go through some pretty wild stuff in recent years, I was afraid of what I might find.

I was right to be worried. As I crisscrossed the country after the conference, I visited with friends and family, made new friends, and spoke with strangers, taxi drivers, locals, farmers, and fellow travellers. What I saw and heard shocked me. The change that had taken place over a few short years could only be described as alarming.

Once a beacon of stability, democracy, and economic prosperity, I noticed social, political, and economic fractures that have widened, leaving me concerned the UK is in terrible danger, heading towards a cultural collapse.

The symptoms of this crisis were widespread – evidence of significant migration, declining cultural cohesion, increasing surveillance, policing of freedoms, economic stagnation, and a loss of national pride – many of the same problems we have recently witnessed in parts of Australia. But – in true British style – the UK is doing things on a much grander scale, with less sunshine.

From city to countryside it seems everyone is struggling. Like other countries, the UK is suffering an enormous post-pandemic economic hangover, with a cost-of-living crisis, high taxation, and soaring energy costs placing an unbearable burden on ordinary citizens.

In the cities, this burden hits home. The eye-watering price of a bag of groceries makes it hard to comprehend how people afford to eat (many said as much), let alone fill up their cars or pay the power bill.

In the countryside, the farming sector is also under siege. Signs on fences denounced inheritance tax policies that threaten to decimate family-owned farms. The local pub was rich with stories reflecting the pressure cooker of economic strain on British farmers.

The surveillance state is well established in the cities. Despite the expense I took a few cabs, enjoying ‘the ‘knowledge’ imparted by taxi drivers navigating the streets of London. ‘I expect a weekly notice,’ one told me. ‘They see everything now,’ he said referring to London’s CCTV. ‘You can’t sneeze without someone saying bless you.’  Many told me of the government’s encroaching reach into their lives, from extensive CCTV coverage to digital monitoring. It seems, policies that were initially justified to ‘keep people safe’ had morphed into tools of public control.

This trend might not be so concerning without a similar trend in the policing of free speech. British author and columnist Allison Pearson’s experience was a truly frightening example. Speaking at ARC, she recounted being visited by police over a year-old deleted tweet, unable to even know the specific content or accuser.

‘It was ridiculous, but I have to say it was also sinister. It was chilling. I was under investigation by the police for a nameless crime in the land of Hope and Glory, mother of the free. And … because I was getting ready in my black outfit with my Poppy to go to the War Memorial, I decided to launch a soliloquy at the poor policeman. I said, “You do realise what today is, don’t you? This is the day when we commemorate the hundreds of thousands of young men who sacrificed their lives so our country could be free and not have tyranny like you guys turning up on my doorstep to accuse me of something that you won’t even tell me what it was.”’

These Kafkaesque ‘non-crime hate incidents’ are being recorded against citizens and can appear on background checks and affect employment – effectively punishing people for legal speech.

Result? Self-censorship is rife.

As the ability to speak freely has changed so, too, has the mix of people, culture, and religion. I noticed a change in the multicultural mix, particularly in the cities. The 2021 Office for National Statistics (ONS) data also reports a shift in religion with Christians now in the minority – having had the biggest downturn of all religions – and a 44 per cent growth in Muslims over the past decade.

This religious shift appears to be embraced by leaders Prime Minister Keir Starmer and King Charles III, who opened two of the UK’s most iconic landmarks – Windsor Castle and Westminster Hall – for historic Iftar events during Ramadan. Celebrated as powerful gestures of inclusion and national unity, these events included Islamic worship and Qur’anic recitation. As the distinctive call to prayer echoed through the portrait-lined walls of St George’s Hall, I couldn’t help but wonder what the Knights of the Garter of centuries past might have thought.

The loss of national pride and identity was perhaps the most telling sign of a UK decline. In her ARC address, Kemi Badenoch reported a recent survey that showed nearly 60 per cent of young Brits are not proud of their country, with almost 40 per cent of the fighting-age population unwilling to defend it under any circumstances. This sentiment was echoed by 23-year-old self-proclaimed patriot Charlie Downes in a recent interview suggesting the root cause is not apathy or fear, but a deep dissatisfaction with government leaders. ‘I’m not prepared to go to war … to be sent abroad by this utterly corrupt, morally bankrupt political class that has sold out,’ said Downes. ‘This country sold out my generation, sold our future down the river, on the altar of things like mass migration, Net Zero, (and) de-industrialisation.’

Downes’ statement pinpoints the painful reality that caused my tears to fall as the plane travelled down the runway toward home. It seemed to me that Britain had been sold out. This once proud and resolute nation, with a strong sense of identity known both to itself and the world, has lost its way – a shadow of its former self. And many didn’t even realise it was happening.

But, as with a terminally sick patient, where there is life, there is hope. There is a path forward, one that demands courage, strong leadership, and a return to core values. The United Kingdom stands at a crossroads. The decline is not inevitable, but reversing it will require bold, unwavering action.

Dr Julie Sladden is a writer and former medical doctor. If you’d like to support her caffeine-inspired writing, you can shout her a coffee here.