The mere utterance of “politician” often casts into the mind an assortment of unflattering profiles. And the actions of UK politicians, as reported in the media, haven’t helped rectify this nefarious image problem.
Hobbes’s philosophical idea of the ‘State of Nature’ paints governmental institutions in a starkly positive light: politicians are meant to be the providers of order and civility. They selflessly sacrifice their own time for the sake of society as a whole. They are vigilantly dedicated to rescuing society from a fate which would otherwise be “nasty, brutish, and short”.
Maybe, if we were still living in 17th-century England, Hobbes’ view might have more credibility. But in modern times, it is perhaps better fitting to attribute his tripartite expression “nasty, brutish and short” to the popularity status of any notable MP.
The cultural diversification of British MPs may have done something to fight against this stereotype. But the British public still holds a deep-rooted suspicion of anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves representing a political party at a national level. The media constantly floods our screens with pessimism. Under their lens, politicians are fundamentally untrustworthy instruments of dialogue, possessing a natural rhetoric for lying.
Of course, this is an overly generalised character description. It couldn’t possibly pertain to every politician out there. And yet, there is a growing suspicion amongst the UK population that it applies to an ever-growing number of them. So, at a time when people already have a negative impression of politicians generally, politicians should not be reliant on making volatile personal attacks in their arguments.
Badenoch’s brutal attack on the budget
Say what you want about Reeves’ new budget, released bright and (only slightly too) early on November 26th. It’s single-handedly provided every political podcast on Spotify with enough material to keep listeners more informed on “fiscal responsibility” and “national minimum wages” than ever before.
Most notably, the budget announced a £26 billion tax rise, as part of Reeves’ mission to ask “ordinary people to pay a little bit more”. It also contained the decision to scrap the two-child benefit cap, a long-lived Tory policy which will have been in effect for almost 10 years by the time it is officially removed in April 2026.
Naturally, the Opposition had a lot to say. Kemi Badenoch, the Prime Minister of the Opposition and the leader of the UK Conservative Party, slammed Rachel Reeves for breaking her promise not to increase taxes. Assuredly, this is a standard part of parliamentary discourse.
But in doing so, she also made some cutting remarks on Reeves personally, accompanied by a particularly insulting impersonation of the less-than-cheerful Chancellor. Badenoch called her “incompetent”, adding that “she is spineless, shameless and completely aimless!”.
She signed off her speech by encouraging Reeves to resign, exalted by crowds of vocalised support, and said that she would go down as the country’s worst-ever Chancellor. Clearly, she had some strong views, exacerbated by her even stronger tone of contempt.
Badenoch stood by her assertions when interviewed on The BBC’s Political Thinking with Nick Robinson episode. She claimed to be merely “channelling” her anger from farmers and business owners impacted by Labour policies. But, re-watching her speech, one can’t help but feel she went significantly beyond what was necessary.
Is there a line and, if so, did Badenoch cross it?
Moving away from Badenoch’s words specifically, there’s a general temptation to justify this sort of illustrative ad hominem lexicon in spheres of political debate. I can’t imagine that Badenoch’s words haven’t already been uttered at some point or another by some red-faced politician in decades past.
Politicians hold essential positions as public figures. On that basis, it is important to hold them accountable and criticise them when they seemingly fail to live up to the demands of the job. This goes some way to explaining – though not quite, I don’t think, justifying – why politicians find it to easy to slip into making personal remarks about other politicians’ characters.
This fits into the landscape of ‘performance politics’. Whilst on varying levels, all politicians understand the importance of staying charismatic, of staying memorable. Voters must remember who you are. Delivering an iconic line that packs a punch will keep you enshrined in the history books (lest we forget the Internet’s obsession with Boris Johnson and his beautiful blue passport). But that shouldn’t mean people should go as far as Badenoch did.
Juvenile attempts at name-calling and overly derogatory remarks should not be as normalised in the world of politics as they currently are. Politicians are public servants, and this important role rightly comes with highly sensationalist media scrutiny and FBI-level interrogation at the slightest hint of incompetence. But they are all also human beings, deserving of basic human respect.
Unparliamentary and unsportswoman-like behaviour
Aside from the obvious moral and unparliamentary reasons to refrain from personal attacks in parliament, there is also a question of efficiency to consider.
This is to say, did Badenoch’s comments genuinely strengthen the persuasiveness of her argument?
The answer seems to be a resounding “no”.
Appearing on Laura Kuenssberg’s Sunday morning show on November 30th, the host asked Reeves whether she felt Badenoch went too far with her comments.
Reeves said she would rather “concentrate on policies than personalities.”
Her reply evoked a certain level of class, demonstrating (at least publicly) an admirable ability to turn the other cheek against someone who treated her with such open hostility.
What could have been a news story about how Badenoch tactfully tore apart the Budget, decisively pointing out the inconsistencies with Reeves’ previous promises, turned into an uplifting Aesop’s fable. Headlines reframed the story to tell how Reeves, backed into a corner and hurled with attacks from the Opposition, heroically managed to push past Badenoch’s criticisms with her head held high.
Personal attacks are not only immoral, but ineffective
Stooping to such a low level only had an adverse effect for Badenoch. It took the media attention away from what could have been a valid point about the inconsistency of Reeves’ claims; instead, it drew sympathy for Reeves (which, on the face of it, looked like it would be a very difficult thing to do, all things considered). However valid Badenoch’s criticism of Reeves, it was fundamentally overshadowed by the way she presented her point.
Plus, it had the knock-on effect of fueling the public’s perception that politicians are cold lizards, who have no moral qualms with getting personal to make their points. And whilst I’m sure Badenoch would resent me saying this, but this is particularly important for female politicians, who are already under a whole world of pressure to avoid looking ‘catty’.
Ultimately, these sorts of cheap tactics reflect badly on the politicians who use them. But, more importantly, they create distance between the politicians and the people they have a duty to represent. Political debate will undoubtedly always involve fervent disagreement and impassioned appeals. But there’s a difference between performative melodrama and productive discussion – turning parliament into a stage for theatrical character assassinations only feeds into the public’s overall distrust of politicians, which only spells for disaster in the long-term.
