People could vote Labour or Green and then we will get narrowly beaten by Reform
As thousands of English council seats prepare to change hands, Liberal Democrat leader Ed Davey is asking voters to think not with their hearts but with a map — to see the local ballot not as an expression of preference but as a firewall against something larger. In the traditionally Conservative south, where old allegiances have crumbled and new forces are rushing in to fill the space, Davey frames the coming vote as a civilisational choice: between a moderate, pro-European liberalism and a Farage-led populism he ties directly to the politics of Donald Trump. The warning is mathematical as much as moral — vote imprecisely, he argues, and the consequences will outlast the moment.
- The old two-party order has fractured so completely that Reform now stands on the threshold of governing English councils it could not have dreamed of contesting just years ago.
- Davey is sounding an alarm rather than a victory cry — projections favour his party, but the margins in key councils are thin enough that a few thousand misplaced votes could hand Reform control.
- The Greens' surge complicates the picture, with Davey arguing they are drawing from Labour's pool rather than blocking Reform, making them an inadvertent ally of the far right in the south.
- On doorsteps across the home counties, voters are connecting potholes and pub prices to Trump and Farage — and Davey is leaning into that chain of association as his sharpest electoral weapon.
- The race is landing in a place of genuine uncertainty: five councils hang in the balance, heavy spending is flowing from both the Lib Dems and Reform, and the result may be decided by inches.
Ed Davey arrived at these local elections with a warning rather than a celebration. Across the home counties and beyond, more than five thousand council seats were in play — and the old certainties had dissolved. Labour and the Conservatives, once the only forces that mattered in most local contests, had fractured so thoroughly that parties once considered marginal were suddenly competitive. Into that vacuum, Reform was advancing.
Davey identified five councils — East Surrey, West Surrey, Hampshire, West Sussex, and Huntingdonshire — where the Lib Dems could take outright control. Projections gave his party around five hundred gains; Labour was expected to lose eighteen hundred seats. But Davey's tone was urgent, not triumphant. 'If we are going to stop Reform, we are the party most capable of doing that,' he said, warning that votes for Labour or the Greens in the wrong places could hand narrow victories to the far right — victories, he added, that people would regret for a long time.
The argument required voters to think tactically and precisely. In most of the south, and in northern towns like Stockport and Hull, Davey said the Lib Dems were the only credible barrier. The Greens, he suggested, were pulling from Labour's base rather than from Reform's — making them an ineffective shield. The Lib Dems, by contrast, were drawing disaffected one-nation Conservatives: pro-European moderates who had felt abandoned by Kemi Badenoch's rightward shift and who, Davey said, saw his party as a defence against Trump-style politics entering British governance.
That invocation of Trump was deliberate. Davey had heard it constantly on the doorstep — voters would raise local grievances and then pivot, almost in the same breath, to the American president. The link in their minds was Nigel Farage, whom Davey described as Trump's cheerleader. Reform's alignment with that brand of populism, he argued, was already costing the party support. Meanwhile, the Lib Dems kept one foot on the ground: fly-tipping, sewage in rivers, potholes, the price of a pint. The local and the global were being held together in a single electoral frame — stop Reform here, or live with the consequences for years to come.
Ed Davey stood at the threshold of the most fragmented local election in recent memory, and he was making a stark calculation: vote for anyone but the Liberal Democrats in the right places, and you'll wake up to a council run by Reform. It was a warning wrapped in arithmetic, delivered to voters across the home counties in the days before more than five thousand council seats went to the polls.
The landscape had shifted beneath the old political ground. Labour and the Conservatives, once the only real players in most local contests, had fractured so thoroughly that dozens of seats were suddenly in play for parties that had been marginal just years before. The Lib Dems had identified five councils—East Surrey, West Surrey, Hampshire, West Sussex, and Huntingdonshire—where they believed they could take overall control. Across the broader "blue wall" of traditionally Conservative southern England, Davey framed the race as a two-way fight: his party or Reform. Nothing else mattered.
The numbers told a story of upheaval. Projections suggested the Lib Dems would gain around five hundred seats. Labour was expected to lose eighteen hundred. The Greens, meanwhile, were positioned to pick up hundreds more, with some forecasts reaching seventeen hundred. The pollsters at More In Common expected the Lib Dems to claim the newly created East and West Surrey councils outright. But Davey's message was not triumphalist. It was urgent, almost pleading. "If we are going to stop Reform, we are the party most capable of doing that," he said. "People could vote Labour or Green and then we will get narrowly beaten by Reform and people will regret it for a long time."
What made this election different was the precision required. In some areas, the margin between stopping Reform and allowing it to govern was razor-thin. Davey was asking voters to think tactically, to set aside their first instincts and vote for the party best positioned to block the far-right advance. He acknowledged that in some places—Portsmouth, for instance—that meant voting Green. But in most of the south, and in parts of the north like Stockport and Hull, it meant voting Lib Dem. The party had been spending heavily, Davey noted, and so had Reform. Results would come down to inches.
Davey's argument rested on a distinction he drew between his party and the Greens. The Greens, he suggested, were essentially siphoning votes from Labour—they were not the bulwark against Reform that the moment required. The Lib Dems, by contrast, were pulling disaffected Conservatives into their column. Those traditional one-nation Tories, the pro-Europe moderates who had felt abandoned by Kemi Badenoch's rightward turn, were finding their way to the Lib Dems. "They look at us and see us standing up for Britain against Trump's bullying," Davey said. "They like what we are saying on the economy and defence, and they feel more comfortable with us."
That invocation of Trump was not incidental. Davey had noticed it cropping up constantly on the doorstep—voters would mention potholes and then, in the same breath, pivot to the American president. The connection, in their minds, was Nigel Farage, whom Davey described as Trump's cheerleader, someone who had recently referred to Trump as "the boss in Mar-a-Lago." Reform's alignment with Trump-style politics, Davey argued, was costing the party support even among some of its own voters. The idea that Farage wanted Britain to enter the war in Iran, that he was importing American populism into British governance, had angered people across the political spectrum.
Davey was also fighting on smaller terrain. The Lib Dems had been hammering away at local issues—fly tipping, potholes, sewage pollution in rivers. He had even seized on the price of a pint, which had reportedly hit ten pounds in some London pubs. It was the kind of granular, lived complaint that moved voters. If elected to government, he said, the Lib Dems would cut national insurance for employers and reduce VAT for hospitality. But the larger frame remained: stop Reform now, or face the consequences for years to come.
Notable Quotes
If we are going to stop Reform, we are the party most capable of doing that. People could vote Labour or Green and then we will get narrowly beaten by Reform and people will regret it for a long time.— Ed Davey, Liberal Democrat leader
When you talk to that traditional one-nation, pro-Europe liberal Tory, they are pretty upset with Kemi Badenoch; they feel the Conservative party has left them.— Ed Davey
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why is Davey so focused on Reform when Labour is the traditional rival?
Because Labour has collapsed in these areas. The old two-party system is gone. In the south, it's genuinely Lib Dem or Reform now—Labour is barely in the conversation. That's what makes tactical voting so urgent.
But doesn't telling people to vote Green in some places undermine his own message?
It actually strengthens it. He's saying: I'm not asking for your blind loyalty, I'm asking you to think clearly about where Reform can be stopped. That kind of honesty builds trust, especially with the moderate Tories he's trying to win over.
What's the Trump connection really about?
It's about making Reform toxic to people who might otherwise consider them. Farage's cheerleading for Trump, his eagerness to align with American populism—that's repelling even some conservative voters who don't want that imported here. Davey is weaponizing it.
Is he right that the Lib Dems are better positioned than the Greens to stop Reform?
In the south, probably yes. The Greens are taking Labour votes. The Lib Dems are actually converting Tories. That's a different kind of political muscle. But it depends entirely on whether voters believe him and vote accordingly.
What happens if Reform wins anyway?
Then Davey's warning becomes prophecy, and voters will remember they were told this could happen. That's a dangerous position for him—he's staking his credibility on an outcome he can't fully control.