Another week, another to-camera video courtesy of Robert Jenrick. Last week, the onetime Conservative leadership candidate’s agenda-setting vigilantism, as he intercepted “fare dodgers” on the London Underground, was a remarkable success. By whatever measure — social media clicks, column inches, broadcast commentary — Jenrick chalked up a genuine win.
The lively broadside was the logical extension of the shadow justice secretary’s activism this parliament. Jenrick returned to the House of Commons in July last year with a singular vision: securing the mantle of Conservative leader. He was bested by Kemi Badenoch. But while the campaign has long since ceased, Jenrick’s campaigning has not.
Like any ambitious also-ran, the setback served as a catalyst. In recent months, Jenrick has honed his political style and evinced a capacity to “cut-through” well beyond the next spikiest Tory.
The role of shadow justice secretary, assigned to him by Badenoch in November, does not confer upon Jenrick any right to such salience. His colleagues across similar middle-ranking posts are a testament to how opposition figures can dissolve into irrelevance. From Gareth Bacon at transport to Edward Argar at health, the shadow cabinet is a veritable who’s who of “who’s that?”.
In part, Jenrick has vaulted the low bar set by his fellow frontbenchers by stepping beyond the strictures of his brief — a fact that in and of itself reflects his enduring ambition. His portfolio of pieces for the Telegraph newspaper is an extensive, and growing, case in point. The shadow justice secretary’s comprehensive output surpasses most regular columnists.
But less considered is the way Jenrick has seized on those issues that, aided by a sometimes expansive interpretation, do justify attention from the shadow lord chancellor. He won headlines earlier this year for his criticism of new sentencing council guidelines as “two-tier”; this week, his call for prison officers to have access to firearms secured wide coverage.
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Consider Jenrick’s “fare dodgers” video in these terms. There is no stipulation in the shadow justice role that compels its incumbent to rampage around some unsuspecting tube station. Critics have duly hounded Jenrick for the stunt, which they decry as performative and callous. But his extended tour of the broadcast studios since suggests Jenrick is confident in the counter-argument: why shouldn’t a senior politician concerned with crime and justice concern himself with widely perceived rule-flouting?
Critics reject the message and abhor the messenger. But the means by which the message was delivered — politically, strategically — is sound. Jenrick’s opponents misunderstand the raw potency of his strategy at their own peril.
In the success of his “fare dodgers” video, Jenrick has established a model: a tried and tested formula for securing social media kudos and cut-through beyond. That brings us to his latest contribution. This time, the shadow justice secretary’s targets are not blurry-faced “fare dodgers” and still fuzzier nods to societal ills, but the government’s chief legal adviser, attorney general Lord Hermer.
Like Jenrick, Hermer is a conspicuous presence in our political discourse. Unlike Jenrick, his prominence does not reflect a canny, long-term strategy — but his profile, which seems almost uniquely designed to rile Westminster’s right-wing ecosystem.
The attorney general’s record of clients reads as a Tory rogues’ gallery. In his latest video, Jenrick lists those most likely to wound the Telegraph-reading conscience: “Gerry Adams; not one, not two, not three, not four, but five terrorists linked to Al-Qaeda, including two of Osama Bin Laden’s lieutenants, one linked to 9/11 and one to 21/7; the mother of an ISIS Beatle; Shamima Begum; Caribbean nations demanding reparations; and a 26-year-old Eritrean man in Britain illegally who was claiming to be 16.”
The shadow justice secretary adds: “If someone wants to spend their life defending Britain’s enemies, that’s on them and their conscience. But that someone shouldn’t be chosen to be our attorney general.”
Whatever your view of the rights and wrongs of Robert Jenrick’s arguments, his recent activism points to an inescapable conclusion. The shadow justice secretary gets opposition, and what it demands. He understands the structural predicament the Conservative Party faces, and how to challenge it.
The Conservative Party has no right to coverage, no right to be heard — no right to exist in a political landscape that is reconstituting against it. Indeed, with their interventions, Tory politicians need to implicitly reeducate those who conceive of Reform vs Labour as the defining fault line this parliament.
Badenoch’s strategic silence is having the opposite effect. When the Tory leader does decide to chime in — once the relevant policy boards have reported and their recommendations are signed off — it will be too late.
Briefings emanating from camp Badenoch insist she is focused on the long-term. Does the Tory leadership not realise? In the long run, the Conservative Party is dead.
Jenrick is succeeding because he has made himself impossible to ignore. Badenoch is failing because she has consciously seconded herself to the periphery of politics. The craft of opposition cannot be mastered from the sidelines. It is significant that Jenrick, through his social media shenanigans, is improving as a communicator; Badenoch is showing no such signs.
Crucially, the shadow justice secretary’s in-your-face tactics secure wins. The government’s decision to legislate to keep the sentencing council in line was interpreted as a boost for Jenrick. Why? Because Jenrick established himself as the loudest critic of its supposedly “two-tier” guidelines. He pursued every cultural and institutional avenue — legislative, parliamentary, broadcast, print, social media — to ensure as much. If/when Lord Hermer is shuffled out of government, it will be seen as a win for Jenrick. That is the windfall his latest video sets up. Whatever the reality, that is the politics.
Compare these cases to Badenoch’s role (or lack thereof) in the winter fuel payments U-turn. The Tory leader was a critic of the cuts to the winter fuel allowance, announced last July; but her attacks were unfocused, unobtrusive and sporadic. Badenoch’s largely passive participation in the debate did not display the requisite grit. As such, she has received no credit for Starmer’s about-face.
The bottom line is this: Robert Jenrick is excelling where Kemi Badenoch is floundering.
Intriguingly, the totemic issue that split Jenrick and Badenoch during the 2024 leadership contest — the UK’s status as a signatory to the ECHR — has barely featured since November. The shadow justice secretary’s revolt is notable because it isn’t explicitly ideological or born of irreconcilable policy differences. It is mostly about style and proficiency.
Of course, in an ailing party, to appear alive is a condition of profound irreverence. A memorable stance will inevitably be interpreted as a challenge in a party that does not take memorable stances.
Badenoch seems indifferent to the dying of the light. Jenrick’s rage is his rebellion.
In 2024, a “stop Jenrick” campaign orchestrated by influential one nation Tories and spurned Rishi Sunak loyalists helped scupper his leadership chances. That was then; before Badenoch’s electoral setbacks and the self-inflicted errors. Conservative MPs have been known to countenance an ideologically imperfect candidate when the moment becomes critical. That moment is fast approaching.
Tory MPs will be wondering whether the shadow justice secretary can do for their party what he has done for his own profile this parliament.
Josh Self is Editor of Politics.co.uk, follow him on Bluesky here.
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