“I can’t describe how I felt. Even thinking about it now makes me incredibly emotional” was what Kemi Badenoch said when asked how she felt watching the police body camera footage of Henry Nowak’s last moments. The Prime Minister, in a vein of similar respect, said that the footage was “harrowing” and that “as a father of a 17-year-old” he “felt sick watching it.”
The video in question is indeed horrifying.
It shows Henry Nowak, lying on the ground, having just been stabbed by 23-year-old Vickrum Digwa. When he expressed to officers that he had been stabbed, their reply was chilling – “I don’t think you have mate.” His last moments were spent being read his rights.
The video has sparked debate over religious freedoms, DEI practices and the relationship between the public and police. But, amidst so much chaos and outrage, Henry Nowak’s father, speaking on the steps outside a courthouse, pleaded with the British public to not let his son’s murder “be used to create further hatred, division or tension.”
A very understanding and reasonable request from a grieving father, one would think. And, for most on the right of British politics, this wish has been upheld. In her interview with Good Morning Britain, Kemi Badenoch insisted that “whipping people up” and “making them angry” is not what politicians and the media should be doing at such a difficult and tragic time.
She echoed this during her performance at PMQs yesterday, using the opportunity as a means to attack Labour over the ballooning benefits bill, which our editor discussed yesterday. Whilst it could’ve been an easy political point scoring opportunity to challenge the Government over policing, Badenoch put her principles first. It was a refreshing sight to see.
The same cannot be said, however, for others on the right such as Nigel Farage. In a video statement released on X, the man who once proclaimed that he has “some principles” used Nowak’s death as an opportunity to do the very thing that Kemi Badenoch had insisted she was against. He said that the body camera footage was “proof, if ever there was any, that we’re living in a two-tier culture in this country, where the rights and privileges of white people matter less than those of ethnic minorities.”
Were such an opportunistic move not shameless enough, Reform’s leader used his question during PMQs to fan the flames even more, arguing that the situation is “at risk of getting worse” and that the Prime Minister must do more to tackle “two tier policing” to “ensure that all British citizens are treated the same.” Whilst Badenoch respected the wishes of a grieving father, Farage sought to capitalise on a political opportunity.
It’s a parallel that comes at a time where there is a significant appetite from pundits and commentators to “unite the right.” To band together to prevent the possibility of a progressive, socialist, Burnham-led coalition.
But the Henry Nowak episode reveals a fault line between the two parties of the right. That line is not one of policy, but character. Farage’s instinct when faced with the pleas of a grieving father was to reach for the culture war button and stir up division. Whatever his views on supposed “two-tier policing” may be, using a young man’s murder as the opening line of a political attack is not the behaviour of a statesman.
Badenoch’s restraint, by contrast, was precisely the type of attitude one would hope for in a political leader. By all accounts, she could have gone in for the kill. The footage is disturbing, the questions it raises about police conduct are real, and there would have been no shortage of applause from the Conservative Party’s base had she followed Farage’s lead.
But she chose not to. That choice matters not just to those in SW1 but to the wider country. Badenoch is already experiencing a personal popularity bump in the polls and this episode will only serve to strengthen her position. It is not difficult to understand why this is the case. At a time where opportunistic, Machiavellian politics is the norm, a leader who is willing – and able – to stand up and say the difficult things that people may not want to hear is a breath of fresh air.
Indeed, whilst the British public are right to be angered and sickened by the treatment of Nowak, what is often needed is not more fuel on the fire, but someone to put their head above the parapet and say ‘Stop – this isn’t about race, or ethnicity, or identity, it is about Henry Nowak’. To recognise that, in times of national grief, emotions run high and rational thinking walks out the door. And that in such times, leaders have a duty to the public to maintain civility and order. Badenoch exemplified this perfectly. Farage, on the other hand, did not.
The Nowak case will not be the last moment of national distress that invites political exploitation. There will be others, and Farage might well be there for all of them, armed with his clip-on lapel microphone, team of videographers and his X account. He did it during the Southport Riots, he did it with the murder of Henry Nowak, and he will do it again.
The choice for Badenoch is not whether to engage with the issues that energise Reform’s voters. There are very real discussions which must be had on immigration, policing, cultural change and more. She should not shy away from such discussions. Instead, the choice is whether to do so on Farage’s reactive and toxic tone.
The message that Badenoch must send is that she will put country before party, and principles before political point scoring. It is not a complicated formula, and it will draw a very important, and very necessary dividing line between her and those who seek to claim the right of British politics as their own.