Fractured Foundations: Ontological Security and the Challenge of National Resilience

 

Introduction: A Shifting Security Paradigm

At a recent evidence session of the National Policy Forum's Britain Reconnected commission, we heard from Robin Potter, a Fellow at Chatham House, on the topic of national resilience. Potter’s presentation struck a chord—not just because of its substance, but because of the way it reframed what we mean by security in the 21st century. His core argument was clear and compelling: security can no longer be understood purely in military, economic, or infrastructural terms. Resilience, in this broader and more holistic view, demands a "whole-of-government, whole-of-society" approach. The state's ability to withstand shocks—whether geopolitical, environmental, economic, or social—depends not only on its resources and plans, but on the strength of its relationships with the public, civil society, local authorities, and other democratic actors. 

This broadened definition of resilience invites a more psychological reading of security—one rooted in trust, identity, and shared meaning. Potter reminded us that institutions alone cannot deliver resilience. Trust in those institutions, belief in the social contract, and a shared sense of belonging are not luxuries in this framework; they are prerequisites. Yet these are also some of the hardest things for a government to create from the top down. They must be nurtured through legitimacy, participation, and mutual recognition.

Listening to this, I was reminded of a somewhat obscure theory in international relations I had encountered a few years ago during my studies: ontological security. Though I originally came across it as applied at the level of states and international systems, I began to wonder how this idea might apply to the UK—especially in light of the multiple, overlapping crises we now face.

Ontological Security: A Psychological Lens on Personal and Collective Identity

Ontological security, originating from sociology and psychiatry, is fundamentally concerned with the psychological distress experienced when an individual's sense of self or understanding of the world is destabilised. R.D. Laing, a pioneering, controversial, iconoclastic figure, argued that people require a stable narrative identity and a coherent environment to function without chronic anxiety. This sense of continuity and predictability allows individuals to navigate the world with a sense of security, avoiding persistent existential uncertainty.

Anthony Giddens later expanded on this theory, suggesting that ontological security extends beyond individual identity to encompass both personal and collective dimensions. For Giddens, ontological security is the confidence that individuals—and by extension, groups or societies—have in the continuity and reliability of their social and material world. It arises from stable routines, predictable institutions, and a sense of belonging to a shared narrative. This is not just a question of mental wellness; it is the psychological architecture that underpins both personal identity and collective coherence, helping people feel secure in their place within the world.

Scholars such as Jennifer Mitzen and Brent J. Steele have applied the notion of ontological security to international relations, arguing that states, like individuals, seek to maintain a stable identity through consistent routines, narratives, and external recognition. Disruption to a state's self-narrative, whether through conflict, crisis, or changing geopolitical realities, can provoke instability or aggressive behaviour—similar to the personal disorientation individuals experience when their own identity is destabilised.

While the idea of ontological security as applied to nation-states remains a contested and niche framework within mainstream policy discourse, it offers a valuable lens for understanding national resilience. It suggests that resilience is not only a matter of institutions or infrastructure, but also of the symbolic and narrative coherence that binds a society together. The security of a nation, then, hinges not just on military might or economic stability, but on the shared meaning and identity that its citizens collectively uphold.

Wider Definitions, Deeper Vulnerabilities

While the wider ontological security theory has its roots in international relations, its core insights are equally valuable for analysing domestic political dynamics. The theory centres on the need for continuity in identity and the maintenance of a coherent self-narrative, conditions which are just as critical within states as between them. By repurposing this framework for a domestic context, we can better understand how political actors, institutions, and citizens respond to perceived disruptions or threats to national identity. Applying this lens to the UK allows us to investigate not only how the state interacts externally, but how internal fractures—such as those caused by constitutional uncertainty, contested national narratives, or political volatility—undermine the sense of ontological security that underpins national resilience.

To embrace ontological security is to accept that resilience is not only a material condition but also a symbolic one. It is not enough to secure borders, balance budgets, or harden infrastructure. A society must also believe in itself—its story, its institutions, and its future. It must possess a working consensus about what it means to be part of the collective, and what direction that collective is heading.
This requires conceptual tools beyond traditional economics or security studies. It asks us to look at meaning-making, narrative coherence, and psychological continuity as strategic factors. When people’s lived experience no longer aligns with the dominant national narrative, or when institutions stop reflecting widely held values, ontological insecurity sets in. It is experienced not just as policy failure, but as a form of personal and collective dislocation. 

Examples of Ontological Insecurity

Over the past two decades, the United Kingdom has experienced a series of deep dislocations—each one eroding the symbolic coherence of the national story. The 2008 financial crash shattered confidence in the fairness and competence of global capitalism, and the long decade of austerity that followed hollowed out public services and local government, fraying the social contract that once underpinned civic life.

Then came the Brexit referendum: more than a democratic decision, it marked an existential rupture. What had been a broadly accepted vision of Britain—as a pragmatic, liberal, internationalist power—was suddenly thrown into crisis. Competing narratives of sovereignty, identity, and control surged to the fore. For some, Brexit was a moment of emancipation; for others, a profound loss. No new unifying narrative emerged to replace what had been displaced, leaving the country adrift in a contested symbolic landscape.

The pandemic deepened this fragmentation. Government messaging shifted erratically, exposing the fragility of our social infrastructure and accelerating the public’s loss of trust. Many now live in a state of suspended disbelief—oscillating between cynicism and nostalgia, unable to situate themselves within a shared story of Britain.

This existential disorientation is reflected in the decline of democratic participation. Voter turnout has fallen, engagement with party politics has waned, and apathy has evolved from a passive absence of interest into an active disavowal of political discourse. Mainstream parties have struggled—and often failed—to offer a compelling ontology: a framework of meaning that helps people understand who they are, what their society stands for, and where it is going.

Without this symbolic scaffolding, politics becomes procedural rather than purposeful. People withdraw from a story that no longer speaks to them. The implications are far-reaching. A society unsure of its story is vulnerable to identity politics, populist fantasies, and epistemic breakdowns. Traditional anchors of ontological security—steady work, affordable housing, reliable public services—have weakened, especially for younger generations. Meanwhile, older cohorts face the disorientation of rapid cultural change and retreat into nostalgia for a more comprehensible past. Both groups, in different ways, are confronting the same crisis: a breakdown in the symbolic order on which collective identity depends.

Ontological Security as a Strategic Asset—and Target

When people no longer know what is true, or feel that their institutions no longer reflect their values, they become more susceptible to manipulation. In this sense, ontological security is a form of soft power—fragile, but vital. It enables people to cooperate, to trust, to plan, and to hope.

For much of the twentieth century, the UK exported a coherent national identity grounded in the rule of law, parliamentary democracy, liberal internationalism, and a global cultural presence epitomised by institutions like the BBC. This projection of stability and values was not merely a diplomatic asset—it was a source of moral authority and international influence. But soft power begins at home. When a country loses its internal coherence, its ability to project a credible identity abroad is diminished. A nation that cannot tell a stable story about itself to its own citizens will struggle to convince the world of what it stands for. The erosion of ontological security is thus not just a domestic crisis—it is a strategic vulnerability, undermining both public trust and geopolitical standing.

Both state and non-state agents understand that social cohesion is a form of national capital, and that its disruption can be weaponised. Hybrid warfare in the 21st century often targets not borders or infrastructure, but belief: the stories a society tells itself about who it is, what is true, and whom to trust.

The Brexit referendum offered a stark case study. Coordinated disinformation campaigns—some with documented ties to foreign entities—sought not to advocate policy positions, but to deepen polarisation and erode democratic confidence. Swarms of social media bots and inauthentic accounts flooded public discourse with contradictory claims about trade, immigration, and sovereignty, creating a fog of uncertainty in which facts lost traction and opinion became unmoored.

The pattern has repeated. During the COVID-19 pandemic, falsehoods about lockdowns, vaccines, and public health guidance spread rapidly, undermining institutional credibility and fragmenting the shared informational landscape. More recently, conspiracy-laden narratives around climate policy, school curricula, so-called “15-minute cities”, and refugees have been deliberately amplified to provoke moral panic and civic distrust. Investigations reveal that foreign actors have actively fuelled such unrest—not to shape policy, but to destabilise meaning itself.

These efforts are not about persuasion. They are about disorientation. Their goal is to corrode the symbolic foundations of public life—to blur the line between truth and falsehood, to dissolve the common frame through which citizens understand the world. In this light, foreign interference is not simply a security threat in the traditional sense. It is an attack on national coherence—an ontological assault aimed at weakening the internal narrative scaffolding upon which democratic resilience depends.

Narrative Reconstruction and the Politics of Meaning 

If ontological security is a vital component of national resilience, then its reconstruction must be treated as a strategic priority. But unlike physical infrastructure, it cannot be rebuilt through spending alone. It requires narrative leadership, cultural participation, and institutional renewal.

The state cannot, should not impose a national story from above. History is filled with such attempts, and they rarely end well for all concerned. But, it can support the plural and participatory conditions in which such a story might emerge. This involves serious investment in civic life: public libraries, local media, community spaces, and cultural institutions that give people a sense of agency and belonging. It also means restoring trust through transparency, competence, and accountability.

Democratic institutions need to function not just efficiently, but meaningfully. That means bringing citizens into policy-making processes, investing in deliberative democracy, and protecting the spaces where public reason can flourish. National identity must be capacious enough to hold disagreement, complexity, and change. These are the conditions in which ontological security can begin to be restored—not by decree, but by shared cultural labour.

Toward Narrative Resilience

As we step from esoteric theory onto the terrain of practical solutions, it’s clear that rebuilding ontological security doesn’t just mean putting together a better version of the status quo. It’s about something deeper, something more nuanced. The challenge here is twofold: we need to restore trust in our institutions, but we also need to offer a compelling, meaningful vision of who we are and where we’re headed. The good news? There are plenty of ways to do this—ways that don't just involve top-down policy, but engage the public directly in shaping the future. Here are a few areas where we can begin:
 

1. Civic Infrastructure: Rebuilding the Commons

If we truly believe in a more resilient society, we need to rebuild the institutions that anchor our communities. Public libraries, community media, town halls (both physical and digital), third and community spaces, are essential for this. These spaces give people a place to think, learn, and discuss—not just as passive consumers, but as active participants in the national story. We can’t afford to let these institutions wither away; they are the nerve centres where narratives are tested, challenged, and forged.
 

2. Deliberative Democracy: Real Participation

The traditional model of representative democracy—where we vote and then wait four or five years to have a say again—is no longer enough, if indeed it ever was. If we’re serious about restoring meaning to the political process, we need to make room for deeper, more direct forms of participation. Citizens' assemblies, participatory budgeting, and similar initiatives are key to this. By giving people a voice not just at election time, but throughout the policy process, we create a system where the narrative of the nation is built by its people, not imposed on them. 

Labour’s NPF, at its best, can be a model of this. So, this seems like the ideal place to draw attention to our current consultation - submissions can be made by any individual or organisation, until June 8th.
 

3. Narrative Platforms: Funding Our Future Story

Narrative is an essential part of resilience, and it needs to be cultivated. What better way to start than by supporting cultural production at every level? This means investing in storytelling grants, supporting national projects of reflection and repair, and promoting a culture of creative expression that reflects our diverse experiences. Let’s create platforms where people can tell their stories, explore their histories, and imagine the future they want to live in. These aren’t just nice-to-haves—they’re a way to reforge the bonds of collective identity.
 

4. Education for Epistemic Resilience: Teaching People to Think

If we want to strengthen our society’s ability to navigate an increasingly fractured informational landscape, we need to radically rethink education. Critical media literacy, civic education, and an emphasis on historical complexity should be core components of every curriculum. We need to teach young people not just how to pass exams, but how to think critically about the information they’re exposed to. This isn’t just about “prepping” them for adulthood; it’s about ensuring that future generations can protect their ontological security by safeguarding their ability to discern truth from fiction, and by giving them the emotional skills to negotiate cultural change and ambiguity.
 

5. Institutional Integrity: Restoring the Public’s Trust

Lastly, we can’t talk about resilience without talking about trust. When institutions are seen as corrupt, ineffective, or unaccountable, the sense of security begins to erode. That’s why rebuilding trust in our political institutions is a top priority. This means strengthening oversight bodies, and ensuring that power is held accountable—no matter who holds it. It’s not just about making sure things work: it’s about making sure people believe they work for them.

With these suggestions, these beginnings of ideas, we start to move beyond mere crisis management. We start to address the deeper, structural issues that have left the UK vulnerable to the forces of dislocation. The work is long-term, but the payoff is worth it: a society where people feel grounded, heard, and hopeful about the future. This is how we begin to rebuild resilience—not just through better policies, but through a renewed commitment to our shared story.

Conclusion: Meaning as Strategy

Ontological security may seem like an abstract concept—but its consequences are concrete. Societies that lack a stable sense of self are more fragile, more divided, and more prone to political dysfunction. National resilience in the 21st century requires more than military strength or economic planning. It requires a strategy of meaning: a recognition that identity, trust, and coherence are not luxuries, but fundamentals.

This does not mean enforcing a singular or top-down account of "Britishness". Narrative leadership is not about manufacturing unity or imposing ideology. It is in the capacity to hold space for a plural people while still offering direction. In a pluralistic democracy, identity will always be contested, layered, and evolving. Coherence is not the same as uniformity, nor even consensus: a resilient national narrative allows for complexity without collapse. The goal is not just to counter bad stories with better facts, not to eliminate disagreement, but to re-establish enough shared symbolic ground that disagreement can remain constructive, anchored in a sense of belonging to the same polity, even amid profound difference.

For Britain to reconnect—to itself and to the world—it needs leaders who understand that stories don’t just reflect power. They create it.

We cannot return to an imagined past. But we can shape a future in which people feel recognised, institutions feel legitimate, and the national story feels like something we all have a stake in. This is the challenge. This is the invitation. This is how resilience begins.