Henry Dumont is a graduate in History from the University of Bristol with a focus on English early modern political philosophy and constitutionalism.
‘I like Kemi… Kemi tells it like it is. Kemi is the only one in that place talking sense. And that is why she needs to be our next Prime Minister.’
These words – spoken by Douglas Lumsden – prefaced a video compilation of Kemi Badenoch’s best bits which accompanied her entry onto the Conservative Party Conference 2026. But ‘Badenoch’ is a bold name. A name which has an aura of hierarchy, strength and boldness – the very essence of Conservatism.
Why then did Mr Lumsden reiterate her first-name mononym ‘Kemi’ three times as the introduction to her speech? Perhaps ‘Kemi’ is intended to be the warm political brand. A means to soften the blow as the party returns to its ‘nasty party’ roots. Things such as leaving the ECHR, and making tough decisions when it comes to welfare reform. Or, in other words, things which might upset Theresa May.
However, her character at present comes off almost like a cheerful mascot. If she intends to be bold, she ought to embrace the name ‘Badenoch’, or else she cheapens her strong, combative and authoritative image. Because ‘Badenoch’ is far more fitting. After all, politicians tend to be referred to by their surnames. Conservatism is supposed to be a philosophy of order and hierarchy. A leader who trades on first-name informality is working against that ideological basis
Over the summer, I opted to join the Young Conservatives. I thought that I was entering into the greatest party to ever grace western democracy. One steeped in centuries long intellectual and ideological traditions, on a path of ‘common sense’ and ‘no-nonsense’ politics. Yet, this image is betrayed when I hear people refer to her as ‘Kemi’
During my time on the Young Conservatives WhatsApp group chat, I once came across a raffle for a buzz ball signed by ‘Kemi’. Similarly, I recently encountered a video on X of the Tory leader wearing sunglasses emblazoned in neon purple with ‘KEMI’ and standing behind DJ decks, dancing to Sweet Caroline. To see the involvement here of the leader of the party which claims to be a return to seriousness and authority was frustrating.
Because this is far from no-nonsense. It is nonsensery at its finest.
Thatcher’s adoption of her characterisation as the ‘Iron Lady’ – though created as an insult in Soviet media – added a layer to her aura of authoritativeness, whereas Badenoch’s ‘Kemi’ image is one that feels more like something that softens the blow. While Badenoch’s gravitas and ‘nasty’ ideology are linked, the ‘Kemi’ image feels tacked on as a personal characteristic.
Nostalgia for the ‘Iron Lady’ and praise of her pragmatic politics were presented at conference as crucial to the formation of Badenoch’s political identity. Yet, overemphasis on likening Badenoch’s gravitas to Thatcher’s sometimes come off as borrowing a sense of authority by tapping into cultural memory rather than creating one of her own.
Badenoch lacks the brand beyond ‘Kemi’ – ‘Kemi’ is the brand. With Thatcher, ‘Maggie’ was used light-heartedly in the tabloids, but ‘the Iron Lady’ remained the brand.
This is problematic because this friendly character, though potentially an astute tactic for electoral success, cheapens the strong-willed image in a way which could work against her popularity if and when in government.
Someone I know informed me that, while tending to avoid following politics closely, he felt drawn to ‘Kemi’ despite previously voting Reform. However, he lacked clarity on the specifics of her policy. Thus, the name might work on people less concerned with looking at the substance but comes at the expense of preserving the traditions of order, authority, and hierarchy that conservatism ought to stand for.
If Badenoch ever does achieve power she should heed the words of Andrew Griffith’s conference speech and ‘strive to be respected’ but ‘should not expect to be popular’. The creation of a likeable character might work in opposition but look to Boris’ downfall to see that informality does one little help during crises – the conditions of governance can shift the conditions for popularity.
Admittedly, my view is likely a minority one. She is, after all, polling rather well. Yet, likeability for a general election doesn’t necessarily translate to smooth governance or popularity in office.
The legacy of a Prime Minister Badenoch will rest on policy, not personal popularity while in opposition. I hope for the good of the country she can put her serious face on, and please, Mrs Badenoch, stop trying to be my friend.
Henry Dumont is a graduate in History from the University of Bristol with a focus on English early modern political philosophy and constitutionalism.
‘I like Kemi… Kemi tells it like it is. Kemi is the only one in that place talking sense. And that is why she needs to be our next Prime Minister.’
These words – spoken by Douglas Lumsden – prefaced a video compilation of Kemi Badenoch’s best bits which accompanied her entry onto the Conservative Party Conference 2026. But ‘Badenoch’ is a bold name. A name which has an aura of hierarchy, strength and boldness – the very essence of Conservatism.
Why then did Mr Lumsden reiterate her first-name mononym ‘Kemi’ three times as the introduction to her speech? Perhaps ‘Kemi’ is intended to be the warm political brand. A means to soften the blow as the party returns to its ‘nasty party’ roots. Things such as leaving the ECHR, and making tough decisions when it comes to welfare reform. Or, in other words, things which might upset Theresa May.
However, her character at present comes off almost like a cheerful mascot. If she intends to be bold, she ought to embrace the name ‘Badenoch’, or else she cheapens her strong, combative and authoritative image. Because ‘Badenoch’ is far more fitting. After all, politicians tend to be referred to by their surnames. Conservatism is supposed to be a philosophy of order and hierarchy. A leader who trades on first-name informality is working against that ideological basis
Over the summer, I opted to join the Young Conservatives. I thought that I was entering into the greatest party to ever grace western democracy. One steeped in centuries long intellectual and ideological traditions, on a path of ‘common sense’ and ‘no-nonsense’ politics. Yet, this image is betrayed when I hear people refer to her as ‘Kemi’
During my time on the Young Conservatives WhatsApp group chat, I once came across a raffle for a buzz ball signed by ‘Kemi’. Similarly, I recently encountered a video on X of the Tory leader wearing sunglasses emblazoned in neon purple with ‘KEMI’ and standing behind DJ decks, dancing to Sweet Caroline. To see the involvement here of the leader of the party which claims to be a return to seriousness and authority was frustrating.
Because this is far from no-nonsense. It is nonsensery at its finest.
Thatcher’s adoption of her characterisation as the ‘Iron Lady’ – though created as an insult in Soviet media – added a layer to her aura of authoritativeness, whereas Badenoch’s ‘Kemi’ image is one that feels more like something that softens the blow. While Badenoch’s gravitas and ‘nasty’ ideology are linked, the ‘Kemi’ image feels tacked on as a personal characteristic.
Nostalgia for the ‘Iron Lady’ and praise of her pragmatic politics were presented at conference as crucial to the formation of Badenoch’s political identity. Yet, overemphasis on likening Badenoch’s gravitas to Thatcher’s sometimes come off as borrowing a sense of authority by tapping into cultural memory rather than creating one of her own.
Badenoch lacks the brand beyond ‘Kemi’ – ‘Kemi’ is the brand. With Thatcher, ‘Maggie’ was used light-heartedly in the tabloids, but ‘the Iron Lady’ remained the brand.
This is problematic because this friendly character, though potentially an astute tactic for electoral success, cheapens the strong-willed image in a way which could work against her popularity if and when in government.
Someone I know informed me that, while tending to avoid following politics closely, he felt drawn to ‘Kemi’ despite previously voting Reform. However, he lacked clarity on the specifics of her policy. Thus, the name might work on people less concerned with looking at the substance but comes at the expense of preserving the traditions of order, authority, and hierarchy that conservatism ought to stand for.
If Badenoch ever does achieve power she should heed the words of Andrew Griffith’s conference speech and ‘strive to be respected’ but ‘should not expect to be popular’. The creation of a likeable character might work in opposition but look to Boris’ downfall to see that informality does one little help during crises – the conditions of governance can shift the conditions for popularity.
Admittedly, my view is likely a minority one. She is, after all, polling rather well. Yet, likeability for a general election doesn’t necessarily translate to smooth governance or popularity in office.
The legacy of a Prime Minister Badenoch will rest on policy, not personal popularity while in opposition. I hope for the good of the country she can put her serious face on, and please, Mrs Badenoch, stop trying to be my friend.