Politics is not supposed to be a game of who can generate the most outrage.
At its best, it is about solving problems, making difficult decisions and bringing people together when events threaten to pull communities apart. Unfortunately, last week provided a stark reminder that not everyone sees it that way.
The horrific murder of young Henry Nowak should have united people in grief, sympathy and a shared determination to see justice done. A young man lost his life in terrible circumstances. A family has been left devastated. Friends and loved ones are facing a future without someone they cared deeply about.
That should have been the focus.
Instead, despite explicit requests from Henry's father not to exploit his son's death to create division, some politicians and commentators saw an opportunity. Within hours, tragedy was being repackaged as political content. Social media was flooded with outrage. Emergency statements were called. Language became increasingly inflammatory.
As someone who has consistently argued for stronger borders, controlled immigration and proper integration, I have no difficulty discussing difficult issues. Britain needs serious conversations about immigration, policing, community cohesion and public safety.
But serious conversations require serious people.
There is a world of difference between addressing legitimate concerns and exploiting a family's grief for political gain.
The footage surrounding Henry's death is deeply distressing. My thoughts remain with his family and friends. What happened was horrific. The response from political leaders should have been calm, measured and focused on facts, justice and accountability.
Instead, some chose a different path.
Words such as "pure cold rage" may generate clicks, headlines and social media engagement, but they also carry consequences. Leadership means lowering the temperature, not raising it. It means providing answers, not simply amplifying anger.
The scenes that followed in Southampton demonstrated exactly why. An unfortunate mix of genuinely concerned local residents, political activists and professional agitators descended on the city. Objects were thrown at police officers. Tensions escalated. Ordinary residents were left frightened and communities became more divided.
That is not justice.
Nor is it leadership.
What made matters worse was the extraordinary level of political misrepresentation that followed.
Reform UK came in for widespread criticism after publishing a social media graphic attacking Kemi Badenoch. The post selectively quoted comments she had made four years apart and presented them as though they were contradictory statements about the same issue.
They were not.
Anyone willing to spend more than thirty seconds looking at the full context could see exactly what was happening. It was not an honest disagreement. It was not a policy debate. It was a deliberate attempt to mislead people.
Sadly, what happened next was perhaps even more disappointing.
Former Conservative ministers Robert Jenrick and Nadhim Zahawi rushed to defend the indefensible. Both found themselves being challenged repeatedly during media interviews and neither emerged particularly well from the experience. Instead of defending honesty in political debate, they appeared determined to excuse behaviour that they would undoubtedly have condemned had it come from any other party.
Watching them tie themselves in knots was a reminder of how quickly political judgement can disappear when personal ambition takes over.
While I would not question anyone's right to support whichever party they choose, there is something rather depressing about watching experienced politicians abandon principles they once claimed to hold dear in pursuit of the latest political fashion.
Politics needs disagreement. It needs debate. It needs competing ideas.
What it does not need is deliberate misrepresentation, manufactured outrage and politicians willing to defend it.
This is why Kemi Badenoch's response stood out.
"Every life matters. One law. One standard. For everyone."
Simple. Clear. Principled.
You can challenge failures in immigration policy. You can challenge failures in policing. You can demand accountability from government. You can do all of those things without exploiting a family's grief, inflaming tensions or deliberately misleading the public.
In fact, that is exactly what responsible political leadership looks like.
Strong leaders do not seek to profit from tragedy.
They seek to solve the problems that caused it.
Last week, a lot of masks slipped. Some people revealed themselves as serious leaders capable of addressing difficult issues with maturity and principle.
Others revealed that outrage, clicks and political point-scoring had become more important than truth.
The public are perfectly capable of telling the difference.
