T he insistent calls for reform of the United Bermuda Party began shortly after the 2007 election. Accompanied by public hand wringing, finger pointing and generally more heat than light, the demands for party reform culminated in the resignations of UBP politicians now searching for values and a vision to call their own, either as independents or as members of the Bermuda Democratic Alliance.

In the media, these omnipresent voices were labelled "reformists," and all others, especially those less inclined to seek the spotlight, were called "conservatives."

About a year ago, a political reporter with a keen nose for controversy bestowed these new labels on the UBP Parliamentary group – a journalistic sleight, by the way, that neatly divided the group in two and removed messy shades of gray – and then repeated them in story after story. So it's no surprise that the labels stuck, regardless of their accuracy, and that they continue.

Of course, the reformists themselves used the labels, sensing an advantage in doing so. You see, labels carry baggage beyond the actual meaning of the words. Visualise reform, and chances are you'll get a positive image with words like new and improved – adjectives that in our culture of continuous improvement would make a Tide brand manager smile.

If you see reform as a process of tweaking the system while holding on to your core values, as opposed to say, revolution, where you throw the baby out with the bath water, then who could be opposed to reform? You could even argue that evolution itself is a kind of reform. Or Botox, for that matter.

And political reformists have always received high marks, at least in hindsight. Imagine how pleased you would have felt had you supported the UK's Great Reform Act of 1832, the landmark legislation that removed rotten boroughs. Who could support a rotten borough? Even the name makes you want to, well, hold your nose.

Now visualise conservative, and the image will probably be far less exciting, if not downright grey-haired, stodgy, stingy and over the hill (unless you've got either David Cameron or Sarah Palin in your sights).

Of course, using the reformist and conservative labels to define UBP members doesn't reflect political ideology of the left, right and centre kind. Anyone who read the UBP's 2007 election platform would have encountered a socially innovative and progressive plan that all candidates supported. No, these labels have more to do with a perceived willingness to change, even if what the so-called reformists actually want and the so-called conservatives actually oppose has never been clarified.

While there are clear proposals for Parliamentary reform, for example-open committee meetings, longer question-and-answer periods – definitions of UBP reform have been as clear as the water in Pembroke Canal.

The problem is that few challenged the reformists to define their proposals. The editor of The Royal Gazette recognises this – "…it must be said that just what constitutes reform seems to vary from MP to MP," he wrote recently – and yet the Island's journalists continue to use the labels without demanding specifics.

Prior to leaving the UBP, the reformists' thin agenda called for a name change and the resignations of certain MPs variously referred to as old faces or old guard – old being the operative adjective, as opposed to, say, experienced, skilled, practiced, accomplished, able and mature.

The reformists claimed a name change and purge of the over-50 crowd would ensure a UBP victory. Maybe, maybe not. The fact of the matter is, no one knows. Recently, Tropicana thought they could sell more orange juice by changing their packaging, until previously timid juice drinkers pushed back hard and forced an about-face. And don't even think about the contortions Coca-Cola had to perform following their misguided attempt to change the formula and name of Coke.

What we do know is that the PLP tried to win for 30 years, but when they finally got it right by moving toward the political centre and courting international business instead of calling for talks with North Korea, nobody called it party reform. They called it political strategy.

One advantage beverage marketers have, of course, is their ability to measure the results of decisions quickly and precisely, through sales. But political parties? Not so lucky. They have to wait for elections to test their hypotheses, and even then, a single decision, like a name change, rarely means the difference between victory and defeat.

So is there a need for UBP reform? Of course, along with campaign reform and Parliamentary reform and education reform and heathcare reform and criminal justice reform…you get the point. The PLP probably needs reform, too; their new chairman just committed to "strengthening the party's grassroots infrastructure," grassroots being a code word most often used by politicos who know their parties are in trouble.

The next few weeks and months will prove to be an interesting exercise in differentiation, and the burden is on the reformists to prove that they offer something more than a name change and promises to chart a new way forward, even though so far it looks rather like the previous way forward. Sooner or later, they'll have to focus on what they are rather than what they're not. And the UBP – the party that has allowed others to define it for the past decade – must engage in some serious differentiation of its own to remain relevant.

While this sorts itself out, the media has an obligation to be fair and accurate by rejecting the lazy use of labels and demanding specifics from the public figures they cover.