Tyndall was one of the dominant figures of the British far right for the last 50 years and died of a heart attack two days two days before he was due to appear in court charged with inciting racial hatred. He founded the modern BNP in 1982, imposing his particular form of Nazism on it until deposed in 1999 as leader by Cambridge graduate Nick Griffin. Tyndall's explicit Nazism was an embarrassment to Griffin's desire for a new look BNP and a liability in its attempts to gain mainstream respectability. Only last year, Tyndall was told by the new leadership that the "many photographs of you in neo-nazi uniform ... are a public relations handicap for the party."
Of course, the BNP still harbours its Nazi core, which came to the forefront when a spokesman, in response to news of Tyndall's death, described him as a "great fellow who knew exactly what our movement was about" and an "excellent chap with a keen analytical mind." A bit of a faux pa if you are trying to dispel the view that the BNP is a neo-nazi organisation and that it has moved away from its roots.
With Tyndall dead, the BNP may suffer some problems. The more hardcore Nazis looked to him as a leader and a source of opposition to Griffin's attempts to soften the BNP's image in return for electoral success. This may mean that Griffin's grip on the party is strengthened. It could, therefore, lead to a split in the BNP as the followers of Tyndall's explicit and unapologetic neo-Nazism give up hope of retaking control of the organisation and leave to form a new organisation. If that happens, the BNP may be in a stronger position to peddle its fascist populism as the knee-jerk anti-Nazism of the ANL (i.e. SWP) will be even more at odds with developments within UK fascist circles. It also means that anti-fascists will have to rethink our strategies and tactics.