Are the Tories electing a John the Baptist — or the Messiah?

This week’s Conservative Party conference is less a traditional gathering of the Tory faithful and more of a beauty parade for the four remaining leadership contenders—Kemi Badenoch, James Cleverly, Robert Jenrick, and Tom Tugendhat. Above all, there is no Leader’s Speech to send the party back to the country with fire in their bellies.

The challenge is massive. Never mind taking on Labour; the real issue is healing the deepening split on the right of British politics. This split represents perhaps the greatest existential threat to the Conservative Party since the Corn Laws, as Nigel Farage and Reform continue to gnaw at the base. The contenders face the near-impossible task of uniting the fragmented centre-Right, while preparing for the uphill battle of a general election against Sir Keir Starmer.

The pre-arranged timetable for the contest needs to be changed. Rachel Reeves is giving one of the most important Budgets in a generation on Wednesday, 30th October. The Leader of the Opposition needs to be in place to respond to this Budget by then, but is not scheduled to be chosen until 2nd November. It would be a dereliction of constitutional duty if he or she were not in place by Budget day.

One thing is clear: Kemi Badenoch is best placed to take on the  Labour frontbench in the bearpit that will be the House of Commons on Budget day. She would maul Starmer in PMQs every Wednesday.

As a “shoot-from-the-hip” politician, Badenoch’s strength lies in her ability to break away from the well-spoken, often cautious rhetoric of her peers. She embodies a Thatcherite spirit—aggressive, bold, and unapologetically confrontational. Her unfiltered takes on identity politics and liberal elites make her a champion of disenchanted Tories, including Reform voters, who might see her as the only true bulwark against left-leaning values.

However, this aggressive style comes with its pitfalls, and Badenoch has already landed in a pickle over her comments on maternity leave. Misrepresented or not, the backlash was swift, reminding everyone why most politicians tread carefully with such sensitive topics. Her greatest strength—her refusal to back down from controversy—is also her biggest weakness. The same rhetoric that galvanises Reform voters risks alienating large swathes of the electorate, allowing Labour to paint her as irresponsible or, worse, reckless.

For all her tough talk, Badenoch risks being cast as just another product of the Johnson-Truss era of chaotic leadership, branded as a “move fast and break things” politician—a label that fell apart spectacularly under Liz Truss when everything just broke. Her appeal to Reform voters gives her a unique edge, but it also harks back to the divisive politics of recent Conservative leaders. 

Then there’s James Cleverly, the antidote to Kemi Badenoch. A man who walks a thin line between the pragmatism of the old-school Conservative Party and the demands of today’s fast-paced political scene. He brings an air of reliability and is the picture of a Tory loyalist, backed up with his background story of being an army reservist and business owner. But he’s also got a “wrong side of the tracks” narrative: from the streets of Lewisham to Westminster via a mother who worked as a midwife in the NHS.

His political brand, much like Starmer’s, is more about stability than ideology. He’s the modern John Major: dutiful, practical, and dedicated to preserving “the NHS our mothers knew”.

But the fact is, James Cleverly’s a bit dull.

He is too similar to Starmer. The two are cut from the same “safe pair of hands” cloth, which risks leaving Cleverly vulnerable to attacks from Nigel Farage and the Reform Party. Can a non-ideological small-c conservative really stave off the wolves to his right? And with Farage circling, voters may see Cleverly’s vision as bland, if not a little stale. Never mind taking on Starmer if you’re ravaged by Farage before you get to the starting line.

The combustible oil to Cleverly’s very still mineral water comes in the form of Robert Jenrick. He’s the kind of Tory candidate who knows exactly who he’s speaking to. He doesn’t waste time trying to appeal to everyone—he knows his audience. His hawkish stance on immigration and tax cuts positions him firmly to the right of the party, aiming to unite the hardliners who feel let down by years of middle-of-the-road governance. Jenrick’s brand is clear, calculated, and undeniably Farragist. His rhetoric appeals directly to those who believe in border control and anti-EU sentiment, but here’s the rub: for all his calculated moves, he risks being seen as nothing more than a “Farage Lite”—lacking the authentic fire that Nigel brings to the political scene.

Worse still, there’s the whiff of scandal about him. His involvement in the controversial £45 million tax break for Richard Desmond’s housing scheme will not play well on the campaign trail. Richard Desmond is the very worst of people to be caught in a scandal with: one-time owner of Express Newspapers, but also a soft-porn empire. It paints a picture of a politician who, for all his talk of serving the people, may be just another player in the elite Tory circles that Labour can easily lampoon. Will the public overlook such transgressions? They’ve already forgotten it. Will Jenrick, with such skeletons in the cupboard, get away with attacking Starmer for the increasing whiff of sleaze on the Labour side of the fence? Definitely not.

Lastly, Tom Tugendhat is the wild card of the bunch—a figure who, on the surface, seems out of place in this line-up of sharp-elbowed, viciously ambitious contenders. He commands respect from both sides of the political divide, a rare feat in today’s deeply polarised climate. A military man with a Cameronian vision for society, Tugendhat represents an almost nostalgic throwback to the days of the “Big Society”—a project that, let’s face it, didn’t exactly go down as planned 15 years ago. God knows what will happen now.

His moderation, while appealing to some, is also his Achilles’ heel. In an increasingly right-leaning Tory membership base, his measured tone and establishment leanings might feel alien in the face of a Farage foe. He’s thoughtful, compassionate, and would like to “rebuild the moral core” of the party, but as Brexit and populism have shown, morality and thoughtfulness don’t always win elections. At the end of the day, Tugendhat may be too much of a gentleman for this fray. Even if he were to become leader, one can’t help but wonder whether he has a better chance of winning the Strictly Come Dancing glitter ball than a bruising general election.

The fact is, whoever wins out of this group of four will likely be a seat-warmer for a Conservative leader whose name isn’t yet on the lips of the public. The next Conservative leader, who has a chance of being the next Tory Prime Minister has, probably, only just been elected to the House of Commons. In five years’ time, we will be ready to read headlines written about the “fresh new face of Conservatism”, ready to take over from either Badenoch, Cleverly, Jenrick, or Tugendhat.

The four candidates we have before us are too tainted, too linked to names like Johnson, Truss, and Sunak. But they will have the ability to shape the future direction and reorganise a broken central party. Conservative Party members have to understand they’re electing a John the Baptist, not the Messiah.

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