Race, Representation, and Accountability: Lessons from the UK and Wales

Franck Banza

With Kemi Badenoch’s recent election as leader of the Conservative Party, debates surrounding race, representation, and leadership have once again come to the forefront in the UK.

As a Black woman in such a significant role, her rise brings hope for some, symbolising potential progress towards inclusivity in British politics. Yet, for others, her views on issues like institutional racism raise questions about what genuine representation should entail, challenging the idea that identity alone equates to progress.

In Wales, a similar debate unfolded around Vaughan Gething, the former First Minister, whose tenure saw race and accountability collide in ways that highlight the complexities of leadership in a diverse society.

The complex nature of representation in politics

When leaders from underrepresented communities enter positions of power, it’s tempting to view their ascension as a sign of progress. However, true representation isn’t merely about who holds power, but about whether they use their platform to address systemic inequalities.

Kemi Badenoch’s stance against the notion of institutional racism, for instance, has left many minority communities questioning whether her representation can truly advance equality.

While her identity as a Black woman brings visibility to ethnic diversity in politics, her views reflect a “colour-blind” approach that emphasises individual responsibility over structural reform, which many see as out of step with the realities of racial discrimination in the UK.

This focus on identity over policy is not unique to the UK. Vaughan Gething’s experience in Wales as the first Black First Minister provides a powerful reminder of the nuanced ways that race, representation, and accountability intersect.

Gething’s appointment was historic, and he proudly described himself as the “first Black leader of a European nation.” However, his time in office ended prematurely, not due to his ethnicity but because of a series of controversies, including his acceptance of a significant donation from a businessman with a criminal record, as well as accusations of deleting government messages to evade disclosure laws.

The case of Gething demonstrates that representation alone doesn’t shield leaders from accountability; instead, it highlights the importance of judging them based on their actions and policies.

For those who supported Gething’s rise, his resignation served as a bitter lesson: genuine progress requires leaders who are not only representative but also hold themselves to high ethical standards. His supporters who claimed he was targeted due to his race perhaps overlooked that no leader should be beyond scrutiny—regardless of their background.

Avoiding the ‘glass cliff’ and the ‘race card’ trap

The experiences of both Badenoch and Gething touch upon the phenomenon known as the “glass cliff,” where women and minorities are often appointed to high-risk leadership roles during times of crisis.

This dynamic can set them up for failure, subjecting them to heightened scrutiny and criticism that their white counterparts might not face in similar positions. For Badenoch, stepping into leadership during a time of division within the Conservative Party means she faces enormous expectations, not only as a party leader but also as a symbol of ethnic diversity within a predominantly white institution.

Similarly, Gething’s leadership came at a challenging time, and his subsequent missteps resulted in a rapid loss of political capital.

What complicates these situations further is the risk that, when leaders from minority backgrounds are held accountable, accusations of racial bias can arise.

Gething’s allies accused Welsh journalists of targeting him due to his race, arguing that white leaders would not have faced the same level of scrutiny. However, critics counter that Gething’s accountability stemmed from specific actions, such as his acceptance of questionable donations and his decision to delete important communications, rather than his ethnicity.

This debate reveals the tightrope minority leaders walk: the desire for representation can sometimes lead to the expectation that they receive leniency, which itself risks perpetuating damaging stereotypes.

This racialised lens on political leadership in Wales also brought forward an underlying issue: the danger of “playing the race card” to shield leaders from rightful accountability.

Many, including journalists who pursued the Gething story, see this tactic as counterproductive, believing it diverts attention from the real issues and risks racialising Welsh politics in unhelpful ways.

If anything, Gething’s case underscores the importance of accountability across all demographics—a society that respects Martin Luther King’s vision of judging leaders by their character rather than by the colour of their skin.

Inspiring aspiration without imposing identity expectations

An interesting facet of Badenoch’s position is her insistence on being viewed as an individual rather than as a representative of her race. This desire resonates with those who envision a future where individuals are valued for their contributions and merit, not their background.

For many young people of colour, seeing someone like Badenoch in a prominent role, whether or not they agree with her views, can foster aspirations, showing them that achieving such positions is possible regardless of their background. Similarly, Gething’s position as a leader broke barriers in Wales, inspiring a new generation of political aspirants.

However, the expectation that every minority leader must become a champion for diversity and inclusion can be burdensome, especially if they have not personally faced significant discrimination.

Some may feel that imposing such roles on minority leaders overlooks the diversity of thought within ethnic communities, failing to respect individuals as multifaceted humans with differing values and priorities. For instance, Gething’s tenure showed that leaders are not monolithic representations of their communities; they are complex individuals who may or may not align with broader community expectations.

Representation matters, but so does accountability

In both Badenoch and Gething’s cases, the takeaway is clear: while representation in leadership is crucial for a more inclusive society, it should not replace the need for accountability.

A leader’s race or ethnicity should not exempt them from scrutiny, nor should it serve as the primary criterion by which they are judged. True progress lies in fostering systems where leaders are chosen for their policies, integrity, and vision, not just their background. And when leaders misstep, as Gething did in Wales, the public’s reaction should be based on actions rather than identity.

To create a more inclusive and fair political landscape, we must move beyond symbolic diversity to a place where representation comes with the expectation of accountability.

For the UK and Wales alike, this means building an environment where diverse leaders are judged not by the colour of their skin but by the quality of their service.

Real progress in representation, therefore, is about integrating diverse perspectives in decision-making processes while holding all leaders to the same standards of conduct, regardless of background. In that way, representation becomes more than a number—it becomes a meaningful step towards equality and integrity in governance.

The broader lesson here is that identity alone does not define a leader’s impact on issues of diversity and inclusion. Not every leader from an ethnic minority background will be, or wants to be, a champion for diversity.

It is unfair to expect every Black leader to prioritise these issues, especially when their lived experiences do not align with those who have faced discrimination.

In the same way that not every female leader embodies feminist ideals, it is reductionist to expect that all Black leaders must focus on racial issues. True diversity should allow for a multiplicity of perspectives within any group, without forcing individuals to fit a pre-existing narrative.

If meaningful progress is to be achieved, representation should be about more than appearances—it should empower leaders to enact policies that address systemic issues, regardless of their background.

Relying on token diversity risks perpetuating a superficial understanding of equality, which could ultimately backfire, reinforcing a culture of box-ticking rather than building substantive pathways for inclusion.

The risk, as we have seen, is that symbolic diversity can mask the need for genuine reform and dialogue, leading to an environment where diversity efforts are seen as merely performative.

In the end, Kemi Badenoch’s rise serves as both a moment of celebration and a cautionary tale. It highlights that while representation matters, it is only the first step.

The real work lies in creating policies and fostering a society that recognises the value of diverse voices, experiences, and backgrounds—not just in appearance, but in action.

For meaningful change, leaders must be held accountable for their policies and their ability to foster a genuinely inclusive society.

As Britain moves forward, it must aim for a form of representation that doesn’t just look diverse but actively challenges and reshapes the structures that continue to limit equality for all.