Badenoch Positions Tories as 'Common Sense Party' with 100-Page Manifesto of Principles

Kemi Badenoch has kicked off the Conservative Party's annual conference in Birmingham by presenting herself as a "classic old school Conservative," coupling that declaration with a sweeping 100-page essay outlining the philosophical foundations she believes the party must adopt to regain public trust. In an interview with the BBC's Laura Kuenssberg, the Tory leader distilled her political creed into a handful of plain-spoken convictions: a faith in common sense, a belief that hard work should be rewarded, and a firm insistence that welfare must function as a safety net rather than a way of life. The intervention marks an attempt by Badenoch to carve out a distinctive identity for her party in an increasingly fragmented political landscape.

The timing of the conference is difficult for the Conservatives. The party is languishing behind both Labour and Reform UK in opinion polling and has yet to recover from its historic drubbing at the 2024 general election. Yet Badenoch herself remains more popular than her party among voters, a dynamic that gives her unusual leverage as she seeks to rebuild the Tory brand. Rather than retreating into cautious managerialism, she has chosen to lean into a combative, values-driven approach, presenting her conference as a forum for vigorous debate rather than stage-managed unity. "We're going to be having debates, we're going to have arguments, they are going to be fun," she told the hall, adding that members would challenge one another and remain a united party afterwards.

Central to Badenoch's intellectual framing is her essay, titled "The Right Way," a deliberate nod to Margaret Thatcher's 1976 tract "The Right Approach." In it, Badenoch argues that the last Conservative government faltered because it lacked clarity about its own purpose. Despite the rhetoric of its fourteen years in power, she contends, the party did little to undo the structural changes Labour had previously introduced, allowing the state to expand "by stealth." Her diagnosis is unsparing and aimed squarely at her own party's record: if the old way had been working, she asks, why did the Conservatives suffer such a catastrophic defeat in 2024?

The essay sets out what Badenoch describes as the organising principle for the next Conservative government: that business, not government, generates growth. To achieve that growth, the Tories would pursue tax cuts, strip back red tape, and shrink the civil service to pre-pandemic levels. Underpinning the whole programme is a willingness to make unpopular choices. "What is really missing from politics and government today is people prepared to say no," the essay states, arguing that parties must recruit figures willing to reject worthy causes when the money simply is not available.

Badenoch has also been keen to define herself against her rivals in personal terms. She has previously characterised Reform UK leader Nigel Farage as a "grumpy grandpa," and in her exchange with Kuenssberg she described Labour leader Andy Burnham as "the cheesy uncle who does all the dad jokes." Her self-description—a "no-nonsense mum"—is clearly intended to project pragmatism and straight-talking authenticity. Asked whether her plans for benefit cuts and a large expansion of prison capacity amounted to a return to the "nasty party" label once attached to the Tories, she rejected the charge outright.

"It's the common sense party. That's what we're doing," she replied, before turning the question back on the record of past Conservative administrations. "And, quite frankly, if we were doing so well the old way, then why did we have such a terrible issue in 2024?" It is a rhetorical move that seeks to inoculate her against accusations of ideological extremism by framing her agenda as simple pragmatism rather than a lurch to the right.

On policy, the conference has produced several concrete pledges. The Conservatives have committed to ending the childcare "cliff edge," the current arrangement under which parents earning more than £100,000 lose access to government childcare entitlements. The party has also promised to create 50,000 additional prison places, funded by reducing the overseas aid budget to £1 billion a year, with the stated aim of ending the early release of offenders. The scale of that ambition is striking when set against the record of the previous Conservative governments, which created only around 500 net prison places across fourteen years—a figure that accounts for roughly 14,142 places added in existing and new jails, offset by some 13,660 lost mainly to dilapidation and closures.

Beyond crime and welfare, Badenoch used a question-and-answer session to address questions of citizenship and social cohesion, themes that have become increasingly central to her leadership. She argued that the United Kingdom is "not a dormitory, it is not a hotel," and spoke about the importance of British culture and the role of trust in binding communities together. To applause in a well-attended hall, she warned against the emergence of "lots of little ghettos of separatist communities" where newcomers recreate the places they came from, arguing that such a development "will ruin the United Kingdom."

The conference setting itself has been designed to reinforce the party's messaging. An 88-foot satirical tapestry, modelled on the Bayeux Tapestry and depicting the past two years under Labour, has proved a popular attraction, offering activists a visual and humorous rallying point as they gather in Birmingham.

Labour's response was swift and dismissive. Party chair Bridget Phillipson accused the Conservatives of being "stuck in the past" and "completely out of touch with what people across Britain want to see." She contrasted Badenoch's message with what she described as Burnham's plan "to bring back hope to Britain," warning that the Tory leader wanted to "drag our country back to a politics that let so many people down over the past 40 years."

The coming days in Birmingham will test whether Badenoch's blend of Thatcherite economics, cultural conservatism, and plain-spoken self-presentation can persuade a sceptical electorate. Her personal polling suggests voters are willing to listen to her even as they punish her party. Whether that gap can be closed—and whether a party that spent fourteen years in government can credibly run against its own record—is the central question her leadership now faces. For Badenoch, the answer lies in convincing the country that the Conservatives have finally learned what they stand for.