On October 8, 2025, the Conservative Party conference in Manchester became the stage for a dramatic reimagining of Britain's oldest political force. Kemi Badenoch, newly minted as party leader, delivered her first keynote address with a vigor that few had anticipated, setting out an ambitious vision to revive a party battered by historic defeat, internal rifts, and a resurgent right-wing rival.
Badenoch's speech was, by all accounts, a barnstormer. According to The Nightly, she "hit every single note," taking aim at both Labour Prime Minister Keir Starmer and Reform UK leader Nigel Farage, while pledging to scrap stamp duty and cut Britain's deficit through spending cuts. Her address was witty, warm, and confident—qualities that stunned critics and injected new energy into a party many had written off after its worst electoral showing in modern history.
The numbers paint a stark picture. Britain's public sector borrowing has soared to 5.1% of GDP under Labour, and economic growth limped along at just 1.1% in 2024. The Conservatives, once dominant, were reduced to a mere 121 MPs in the 650-seat parliament after the July 2024 general election—a result that left many questioning whether the party could survive in its current form. As AFP put it, the party faces an "existential" crisis, with some polls suggesting that if an election were held now, the Tories might end up with as few as 45 MPs, trailing even the centrist Liberal Democrats.
Badenoch, for her part, sought to chart a new course. She shunned the culture war battles and the "stop the boats" rhetoric that had defined previous Conservative campaigns, instead promising a "stronger economy" and "stronger borders." Her focus was on practical solutions: reversing Labour’s taxes on education and family farms, banning doctors from striking, cutting welfare spending, and diverting university funding into apprenticeships. She also vowed to end access to mobility scooters for those with ADHD and to stop what she called "overly generous benefits" for milder mental health conditions like depression and anxiety.
But perhaps the most headline-grabbing pledge was her promise to scrap stamp duty, a move aimed squarely at addressing Britain's acute housing affordability crisis. "Scrapping stamp duty will benefit people of all ages because Conservatism must speak to all generations," Badenoch declared, outlining how the change would help everyone from young professionals to pensioners.
Her speech also signaled a sharp turn on two of the thorniest issues in British politics: climate policy and immigration. Badenoch confirmed that she would repeal net zero legislation—introduced by her own party—and take Britain out of the European Convention on Human Rights, a move designed to give the country more leeway in handling small boat crossings and immigration cases. "I am not a climate change sceptic but a net zero one," she said, arguing that it made little sense for Britain to buy energy from Norway extracted from the same basin the UK had banned itself from exploiting.
These positions drew a clear line between Badenoch's Conservatives and both Labour and Reform UK. While Labour, under Starmer, has tried to counter the threat from Reform with tough talk on migration—sometimes to the discomfort of its own left flank—Badenoch mentioned Farage only once, grouping him with other male leaders she is seeking to surpass. In contrast, Starmer, described by The Nightly as "Britain’s most unpopular prime minister" after his "loveless landslide" in July 2024, has treated Reform as the true opposition and has repeatedly invoked the party in his speeches.
The context for Badenoch's repositioning is nothing short of dire for the Tories. As reported by France24 and AFP, the party has been hemorrhaging support to Reform UK, led by Farage, with high-profile defections from both MPs and local councillors. The 2016 Brexit referendum, once seen as a Conservative triumph, unleashed a wave of bitter factional infighting and a revolving door of leaders—David Cameron, Theresa May, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss—each leaving deeper scars on the party's reputation.
Party grandees and political scientists are sounding the alarm. "It is existential," said Robert Ford, a professor at the University of Manchester. "On the current numbers, you'll be able to fit Conservative MPs into a small coach after the next election." Tim Bale, professor of politics at Queen Mary University of London, was equally blunt: "They've only got themselves to blame in a sense. They made all sorts of promises on immigration and the economy, which they didn't deliver on in government. The public are rightly frustrated with them."
Yet, Badenoch’s address was not without hope. She called for the party to return to the "same timeless Conservative principles" that once made it a political powerhouse, invoking the legacies of Winston Churchill and Margaret Thatcher. "We are Conservatives, not anarchists. I am an engineer, not an arsonist," she told the crowd, drawing applause. Her message was clear: the party must adapt, not by chasing the populist right, but by offering real solutions to the country's problems.
Her attempts to distance the party from Trump-style populism were subtle but unmistakable. Unlike some of her rivals, Badenoch did not seek an alliance with American MAGA figures or indulge in the kind of culture war theatrics that have defined right-wing movements elsewhere. Instead, she pitched a "solutions-based" Conservatism, treating voters "like adults" and focusing on policy over personality.
The reaction within the party was mixed but cautiously optimistic. While some, like Conservative MP Martin Vickers, insisted to AFP that "the polls could still change dramatically," others acknowledged the scale of the challenge. As 24-year-old councillor Ralph Muncer put it, the party could "bounce back"—but only if it heeds Badenoch's call to return to its roots and address the real concerns of voters.
Outside the conference hall, the conversation was no less intense. On Channel 4’s Fourcast, former deputy prime minister Baroness Therese Coffey and Times columnist Lord Daniel Finklestein debated whether the Tories could survive at all or if British politics was undergoing a major, irreversible realignment. With the next election not expected until 2029, some speculate that Badenoch herself may not be at the helm by then, given the party's recent history of rapid leadership changes.
Still, for one afternoon in Manchester, Badenoch managed to give a party on the ropes a sense of direction—and perhaps, just perhaps, the first glimmer of a comeback story. Whether the Conservatives can claw their way back from the brink remains to be seen, but the blueprint has been drawn, and the stakes could hardly be higher.
