Kemi Badenoch’s push to abandon the European Convention on Human Rights and enforce mass deportations has been described by senior Conservatives as a “death wish” for her party.
Dominic Grieve, the former attorney general, warned that her approach would “essentially make them the same as Reform” and that abandoning the ECHR was “complete fantasy” and incoherent.
At the Conservative Party conference in Manchester, Badenoch announced Britain would leave the treaty if she wins power, promising to deport 150,000 foreign criminals and illegal migrants yearly.
Her remarks reflected growing desperation within the Conservative Party as it battles Nigel Farage’s Reform UK, which currently doubles Tory polling numbers with its populist surge.
Badenoch told delegates, “Britain needs deep change, but I reject the politics that everything must go. Only Conservatives can bring this country back together.”
In her speech, she claimed, “Strong borders with a shared culture” would rescue national unity, rejecting Labour and Reform as forces of division driven by identity politics.
She warned, “Well-meaning treaties and statutes, like the European Convention on Human Rights, are being used in ways never intended by their original authors.”
Her rhetoric drew a furious response from critics who called the plan reckless. One Conservative peer described it as “shallow posturing that risks Britain’s international reputation.”
Dominic Grieve continued, “It just makes the Conservatives look incoherent. The idea leaving the ECHR would end migration is fantasy, because other treaties still apply.”
The hard-right direction of Badenoch’s leadership mirrored Reform UK’s platform, with opponents saying she has sacrificed pragmatism for populism, risking deeper divisions within the already fractured Conservative Party.
The Manchester Central conference centre symbolised the crisis. Trains and hotels remained half empty, while attendance at the opening sessions fell far below the once-packed Tory gatherings.
Delegates noticed the empty corporate stands. “Even the sponsors are abandoning us,” one attendee admitted, calling it evidence that business no longer trusts the Conservative Party’s direction.
For loyalists, however, Badenoch’s pledge to form a new deportation force, modelled on Donald Trump’s ICE, signalled a decisive stance that resonates with frustrated grassroots members.
“Britain must not become a theatre for intimidation,” she insisted, citing pro-Palestine protests. “You have no right to turn our streets into intimidation theatres. Enough.”
Badenoch also appealed directly to Jewish voters: “To our Jewish friends, we stand with you shoulder to shoulder. You are part of Britain’s fabric and always will.”
But critics questioned whether these declarations masked deeper weakness. Polling shows the Conservatives languishing at sixteen percent, trailing both Labour and Reform by huge, potentially irreversible margins.
The first day of conference was dominated by speculation about Badenoch’s future. James Cleverly and Robert Jenrick drew the biggest crowds, fuelling leadership rival rumours.
Attendees reported a muted atmosphere. “It feels like a wake, not a conference,” one councillor confessed. “There’s no energy, just despair and leadership plotting.”
Meanwhile, a Thatcher museum display occupied prime space normally reserved for sponsors. The party seemed more focused on nostalgia than offering solutions to voters’ present crises.
Asked where deportees would be sent, Badenoch refused clarity. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is they should not be here,” she told Laura Kuenssberg defiantly.
She implied removals could include Syria, Iran and Afghanistan, sparking outrage from human rights lawyers. One barrister called it “a grotesque disregard for international law and safety.”
Despite the controversy, Badenoch tried to inspire confidence. “We have a mountain to climb but a song in our hearts. We are up for the fight.”
Yet sceptics argued her rhetoric only underscored desperation. “It’s smoke and mirrors,” said one Tory MP. “The country doesn’t believe these numbers or these unworkable promises anymore.”
The main focus keyphrase, “death wish for Tory party,” reverberated throughout discussions in Manchester, repeated in private briefings as senior figures panicked about electoral annihilation under Badenoch.
Grassroots members appeared torn. Some applauded her toughness, while others feared voters would recoil. “It’s too close to Farage,” a local activist admitted. “People won’t trust us.”
Meanwhile, Labour ridiculed the conference. One shadow minister said: “They’ve surrendered to Farageism. This isn’t governing, it’s flailing around to appease a base they already lost.”
Reform UK gloated at the chaos. A senior strategist said: “They copied our lines, but voters prefer the original. They’re finished, whether they admit it or not.”
International reaction was cautious. Legal experts warned Britain’s exit from the ECHR would damage relations with European allies and erode its ability to influence human rights globally.
Civil society groups echoed concern. “This would isolate Britain and undermine commitments made after the Second World War,” one rights campaigner said. “It’s reckless pandering to populism.”
Badenoch’s critics saw a leader gambling everything. “It is a death wish for Tory party,” said Grieve. “They’re burning the bridge to their own legitimacy.”
The conference’s symbolic emptiness highlighted the party’s decline. What once showcased Conservative dominance now mirrored its fragility, leaving members asking whether Badenoch can survive the political storm ahead.
By the close of the first day, the only certainty was uncertainty. Supporters rallied, critics sharpened knives, and Britain’s political future looked more fractured than ever.
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