Politics, at its core, is not about branding, positioning or chasing the mood of the moment. It is a test of character. Parties rise and fall, leaders come and go, and electoral fortunes shift, but values are meant to endure. Over the past few weeks, following the very public defection of Robert Jenrick and the renewed sense of clarity and confidence under Kemi Badenoch, I’ve been asked a question repeatedly: would you ever defect?
My answer is unequivocal. No. Never.
I didn’t enter politics for convenience, career progression or personal advancement. I entered it because I believe in Conservatism, not as a badge to be worn when it suits, but as a serious philosophy of government and personal conduct. For me, that means personal responsibility, service before self, strong families, strong communities, a strong nation, and honesty about hard choices. Those beliefs didn’t suddenly appear when the wind was behind us, and they won’t disappear now that politics is harder and more demanding.
But loyalty in politics is not an abstract concept. It is deeply personal. I owe my loyalty to every resident who has voted for me and placed their trust in my judgement. I owe it to the people who stopped me in the street to wish me luck, who argued with me respectfully on the doorstep, and who believed that I would represent them honestly even when we didn’t agree on everything. That trust is not transferable, and it is not something to be gambled away for personal advantage.
I owe my loyalty to my family and friends, who have supported me through long campaigns, late nights and difficult conversations. Politics is rarely kind to those closest to you, yet they shoulder the pressure and uncertainty without complaint. And I owe it to my campaign team, the volunteers who turn up in all weathers, who give up evenings and weekends, who knock doors in the rain knowing full well that the result is never guaranteed. I do not take that for granted, and I would never stab them in the back for the price of a perceived easy win.
I have had setbacks. I have lost elections narrowly. I have fought hard in places where others might have walked away. I’ve spent countless hours on doorsteps defending decisions that were not always popular but were, in my view, right. I’ve stood shoulder to shoulder with colleagues across the East Midlands, supporting them, campaigning for them and backing the party even when it would have been easier to look after myself. That is what loyalty looks like in practice. It isn’t blind obedience, it is commitment when it costs you something.
Defection, when dressed up as principle, is very often impatience or ego in disguise. If you genuinely believe in something, you stay and fight for it. You make the argument. You do the hard work of persuasion. You don’t burn the house down on the way out and then claim the moral high ground as the smoke rises behind you. Conservatism has never been about theatrics or self-interest; it has always been about stewardship, leaving institutions stronger than you found them.
That is why the rise of Kemi Badenoch matters. She has brought back seriousness to the Conservative Party. She is unapologetic about what we stand for, honest about where we have fallen short, and unafraid of difficult conversations. She understands that renewal doesn’t come from abandoning principles, but from returning to them with clarity and conviction. That kind of leadership doesn’t chase applause; it earns respect.
Politics is not meant to be easy. If it were, everyone would do it. It is supposed to test your resolve, your patience and your integrity. I will always respect those who disagree honestly and stay to make their case. What I cannot respect is opportunism disguised as courage.
I will never defect because my loyalty is not to a moment, a headline or a personality. It is to the people who believed in me, the team who stood beside me, the values I hold, and a Conservative tradition that, at its best, exists to do the hard work properly and see it through.
That is a commitment I intend to keep.
