From a childhood in Nigeria to Tory leader: the remarkable rise of Kemi Badenoch | Sunder Katwala

KThe election of Emi Badenoch as leader of the Conservative Party is a remarkably historic political and personal achievement. “For all intents and purposes, I am a first-generation immigrant,” she told the House of Commons in her maiden speech in 2017.

She was born Olukemi Olufunto Adegoke as a British citizen in December 1980 in a hospital in Wimbledon before her parents brought her to Nigeria. Badenoch was among the last to benefit from the birthrights that her heroine Margaret Thatcher would soon abolish in the British Nationality Act of 1981. She compared her British passport to the golden ticket that let Charlie Bucket into Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.

Badenoch’s migration journey shaped her worldview. As a 16-year-old, she flew back to 1996 Britain – a country where no black or Asian citizen had ever served as a government minister. She said she became involved in politics as a “very angry young person” and was pushed to the right because she felt patronized by career counselors and development activists who did not value African voices.

Badenoch says she doesn’t want skin color to be more important than hair color – but Kemi Badenoch’s identity politics often sounds much more color-conscious. “I’m Labour’s worst nightmare, they can’t paint me as biased,” was the headline in a recent Telegraph interview. Their demand that migration policy should reflect the importance of cultural differences is also fraught with tension.

Badenoch’s own experience of emerging opportunities underpins her insistence that Britain is the best country in the world to be black. But more than three-quarters of black Brits appreciated the message of the Black Lives Matter anti-racism protests in Britain – that the progress made leaves much work to be done – while Badenoch was particularly concerned about transferring America’s racial tensions to Britain.

She supported Tony Sewell’s reexamination of ethnic differences in his effort to reframe the narrative. But in doing so, the true story of an increasingly complex pattern of opportunities and outcomes became an extraordinarily polarized culture war. As equalities minister, Badenoch pursued a much more constructive sub-profile, such as her “Inclusive Britain” policy agenda, which aimed to close the remaining gaps.

This has led to some online right-wingers now calling her too “woke,” while those on the left are calling her a culture warrior on race and gender. Asked in the GB News leadership debate whether it was time to call off the culture wars, Badenoch dismissed the label as a “dog whistle to attack the right”. “We defend our culture, we defend our country,” she said.

Kemi Badenoch vs Robert Jenrick was a fortuitous fight after MPs playing tactical games accidentally eliminated James Cleverly. Robert Jenrick was betting that Tory members would vote for the person who offered the most red meat on immigration and human rights to win back the votes lost to Nigel Farage. Tory members defied stereotypes by rejecting this offer.

By making opposition to the ECHR a new litmus test for the Tories, Jenrick gave Kemi Badenoch new allies; George Osborne was one of those surprised that he voted for them. Badenoch somehow emerged from this contest as the unified “broad church” candidate within the party, despite her polarizing reputation outside of it.

Keir Starmer’s instinct may be to avoid a Badenoch debate over identity issues. There is a certain strategic sense in this. The success or failure of Rachel Reeves’ social democratic budget, and the contrast with Badenoch’s instinct that the state should shrink significantly, will most profoundly shape this era of British politics.

But governing an increasingly diverse Britain in volatile times requires an agenda to manage our differences and bring people together. Those who disagree with Badenoch’s identity politics should be able to explain what they would say and do instead.