So many people have thus described Simon Richards so often that I once told him he should adopt the designation as his legal name.
Simon died on 21 February, at a ridiculously young age of 67, and seldom have I seen the death of a public figure causing such an outpouring of grief. Much of it is my own, for Simon was a dear friend, a man I loved and admired.
Human faces can be deceptive, but not faces like Simon’s. One glance at him, and you knew you were in the presence of a good man, a just man, a kind man, a man you wanted to become your friend for life.
Niceness so often disguises vapidity, but in Simon’s case it was a direct product of his faith, first-rate mind, deep convictions and unbridled energy in defence of what he regarded as man’s most prized possession: freedom.
Never have I seen such steeliness of conviction coexisting with such gentility of manner. Simon was a lesson to us all, emphatically including me. Where others looked for a battlefield, he sought common ground; where others saw enemies, he saw misguided friends; where others ranted, he chuckled and drew his adversaries in.
How badly we’ll miss him, especially at a time when the unity Simon cherished is giving way to rancorous fractiousness, when people who disagree push so far to the opposite extremes that they resemble warring clans, not fellow men trying to arrive at a shared goal if from different ends.
Simon joined the Freedom Association as still a schoolboy and retired as its Chief Executive Officer in 2020. In 2006 he co-founded Better Off Out, a conservative group campaigning for Britain to leave the European Union.
In both capacities, Simon perhaps did more for that cause than any of the better-known figures basking in the limelight. He worked quietly behind the scenes, raising funds, building alliances, organising public events, firmly putting Brexit in the context of free nations, free speech, free markets.
Simon could discuss the economics of Brexit with the best of them, but he’d refuse to reduce British sovereignty to bean counting. He loved his country, and he felt its pain as chunks of sovereignty were slashed out of its body politic and tossed beyond the reach of Britain’s Parliament.
Even if it could have been shown that Britain would prosper beyond imagination as an EU province, Simon would have campaigned against remaining with just as much vigour. As it was, he saw clearly the economic possibilities of Brexit, those that all post-referendum governments have squandered so wantonly.
But the referendum was won against all odds, and Simon’s friends at the Margaret Thatcher Centre have written that, without him, Brexit wouldn’t have happened. I wasn’t deep enough on the inside of the movement to know whether that was the case.
But I can easily believe it, for Simon brought to the task not only his mind, organisational ability, energy and convictions, but also his talent for building bridges rather than blowing them up. For example, few conservatives would have been as eager as Simon was to divert funds and strategic support to Labour groups campaigning for Brexit, such as Labour Leave.
But Simon respected his political adversaries as fellow Britons and loved them the way Christians were taught to love. That must have come naturally to Simon for he exuded love and goodwill like few people I know.
Unlike so many activists in the ranks of Brexiteers, Simon wasn’t a single-issue zealot. He was keenly interested in a whole raft of conservative politics and thought, with his unerring instincts and sharp intellect putting him on the right side of every debate.
We were friends for the best part of a quarter-century, but unfortunately never saw each other as often as I would have liked. He lived in Cheltenham, I in London, and I wish the 110 miles between us hadn’t become such an obstacle.
Mostly we spent time together during various social and political functions Simon organised. When he ran the Freedom Association, he’d often invite me to speak at various seminars and also the annual Freedom Festivals at Bournemouth. Once I had to deliver four separate talks there in two days, matching Peter Mullen in that respect (one of the few occasions I’ve ever been able to match Peter on anything).
Just a month ago, Simon and I had an exchange of e-mails that started with my being copied in on a lively conversation among several people, some of whom spoke favourably of Orbán. Simon replied that he saw their point but couldn’t abide with Orbán’s support for Putin.
I wrote, “Hear, hear!” and Simon replied:
“Thank you, Alex. You have consistently, and authoritatively, warned about Putin, from the start. You were the first person to open my eyes to him, for which massive respect.
“My very best wishes to you,
“Simon”
I wrote back, saying:
“And massive respect to you too, Simon, for being the only political thinker I’ve never disagreed with. By reading these e-mails, I take it you are unwell. I hope you get better soon – and do keep in touch.
“All best wishes,
“Alex”
Then came Simon’s last message to me:
“That’s most kind of you, Alex.
“Having never been properly ill, I had a heart attack last November. I was well looked after and now feel fine, though on a cocktail of drugs.
“I do hope that you are well.
“It is so sad to see how many people who should know better have fallen hook, line and sinker for Putin’s lies. Shame on them!
“Yours ever,
“Simon”
This may look as if I’m writing as much about myself as about Simon, and this is indeed the case. Because this is where Simon will be from now on, in the hearts of his grieving friends and all those who knew him. We have become Simon’s resting place in earth, as he claims his eternal rest in heaven.
Rest in peace, my dear friend.