In a disturbing paradox of the digital age, the architect of Britain’s latest wave of nationalist fervour is not a local political firebrand, but a man sitting 5,400 miles away in Colombo. Geeth Sooriyapura, a Sri Lankan content creator, has built a lucrative empire by spoon-feeding anti-immigrant hysteria to the UK’s most vulnerable demographic, turning the anxieties of British pensioners into a personal fortune of £227,000 ($300,000).
This operation represents a chilling evolution in the disinformation economy: a member of the Global South weaponizing Western xenophobia against other minorities, effectively selling tickets to a culture war that endangers his own diaspora.
The Automaton of Hate
Sooriyapura’s operation is a masterclass in "slop"—a term coined for low-quality, AI-generated content designed solely for viral engagement. Governing a network of 128 Facebook pages with 1.6 million followers, he utilizes tools like ChatGPT and image generators to manufacture outrage. His digital soldiers capture the aesthetic of traditional British nostalgia, blending deepfakes of Winston Churchill targeting Prime Minister Keir Starmer with fabricated images of soldiers "securing the borders" at the White Cliffs of Dover.
The financial incentives are staggering. In a country where the average annual income hovers around £3,000, Sooriyapura’s monthly haul of over £1,000 from a single page offers a life of luxury. His online academy has already trained 2,500 students in these dark arts, explicitly teaching them that the British algorithm rewards hostility. "They don't really like people from our countries living there," he tells his students, advising them to exploit this prejudice for profit.
A Community Under Fire
The irony of Sooriyapura’s enterprise is stark when viewed against the backdrop of the UK’s demographics. Britain is home to a vibrant Sri Lankan community, with the 2021 Census recording over 147,000 Sri Lankan-born residents and estimates of the wider diaspora reaching nearly 400,000. These are doctors, engineers, shopkeepers, and students who form an integral part of the British fabric.
By flooding social media with Islamophobic rhetoric—such as fake news about "Muslim-only" council housing initiated by Sadiq Khan—Sooriyapura is not just attacking Muslims; he is fueling a indiscriminately hostile environment that inevitably blows back onto all non-white communities. The far-right rioters galvanized by his content in 2025 famously struggled to distinguish between different immigrant groups. When digital hate spills onto the streets, the nuance of ethnicity is lost to the mob.
This phenomenon highlights a growing fracture within immigrant communities, where digital mercenaries are willing to "pull up the ladder" or attack adjacent minority groups for algorithmic clout. It is a digital form of divide and conquer, where an influencer in the developing world exploits the racial tensions of the developed world, indifferent to the fact that he is painting a target on the backs of his own countrymen living in London, Croydon, and Harrow.
The Mechanics of Division
The sophistication of this network lies in its ability to bypass detection. Meta’s moderation systems have struggled to flag Sooriyapura’s content because it often masquerades as patriotism rather than explicit hate speech. A generated image of a pensioner looking sad next to a caption about "losing our country" does not trigger automatic filters, yet it radicalizes audiences just as effectively as a slur.
The Institute for Strategic Dialogue (ISD) has linked this specific brand of commercial disinformation to real-world unrest, noting that AI depictions of "invading" groups amplified tension during the 2025 riots. Labour MP Emily Darlington has called for tighter regulation, warning that the "monetisation of hate" is outpacing current legislation.
The Cost of Avarice
As Islamophobic hate crimes in the UK surged by 20 per cent in the year to March 2025, the causal link between online "slop" and offline violence becomes undeniable. Sooriyapura creates a feedback loop of intolerance. He feeds the algorithm what it wants—anger—and the algorithm rewards him with cash, validating a business model built on sociopolitical arson.
For the UK’s Sri Lankan diaspora, the betrayal is twofold. They face the external pressure of rising anti-immigrant sentiment in their adopted home, while grappling with the knowledge that one of their own is stoking the flames from their homeland. It is a stark warning that in the era of borderless digital commerce, the call is coming from inside the house.