Words by Sara Hurley:
It’s not often that one person’s name becomes synonymous with integrity, wisdom, and quiet strength across an entire profession – but Kevin Lewis was such a person.
News of Kevin’s passing has reverberated across the dental community with a deep and genuine sense of loss. For many, he was a household name – first as a practitioner, then as Dental Director at Dental Protection, and finally as a writer, lecturer, mentor, and steady hand behind some of the profession’s most pivotal developments.
Kevin didn’t seek the spotlight, yet his influence was everywhere – measured not in titles or accolades (though there were many), but in the trust he earned. Trust from colleagues, patients, young dentists finding their way, and seasoned professionals navigating the stormier waters of complaints, litigation, and professional scrutiny.
He held a mirror up to the system without ever becoming cynical. In writing, he mastered the art of saying what needed to be said – blunt when it mattered, witty when it helped, and always humane. His columns were staples: not just for their insight, but for the warmth behind them. You felt, reading them, that Kevin truly understood your world.
But it wasn’t just his pen that left a mark. Kevin helped shape the values that underpin today’s indemnity landscape. His tenure at Dental Protection gave countless dentists the reassurance that someone genuinely had their back. Later, his work with BDA Indemnity set a new standard, rooted in ethics, accountability, and clarity.
He brought that same clarity to the birth of the College of General Dentistry. As a founding member of its Transition Board and later as a Trustee and Ambassador, Kevin lent his voice to the importance of professional identity, standards, and support across the whole dental team. His final public accolade – the College Medal, awarded just last month – could not have been more fitting.
For me, Kevin’s voice was both personal and pivotal.
When I was appointed Chief Dental Officer for England, Kevin’s quiet encouragement meant more than he could have known. His words were generous but grounded. He understood – perhaps better than most – what it means to shoulder national leadership in a profession that doesn’t always speak with one voice, and isn’t shy about raising it in criticism.
During the pandemic, as the noise grew louder and the criticism more pointed, Kevin’s words stayed with me: “If no one’s shouting, you’re probably not doing anything worth noticing,” he once quipped, half-smiling in that gently defiant way only he could.
When I stepped down as CDO, it was Kevin who instinctively recognised that stepping away wasn’t stepping back – it was the continuation of a mission through different means. We shared a kindred spirit in what he once described as “constructive disruption”: the refusal to accept things as they are, simply because they’ve always been that way. He nudged the profession forward while keeping it rooted in compassion, ethics, and solidarity.
Kevin believed in leadership as service – and disruption, when done with integrity, as a duty. We shared that belief, and a sense of responsibility to keep pushing, questioning, improving. In this, he stood alongside others we’ve recently lost, like Michael Watson, unafraid to call it out, to speak truth to power, and to put the profession before popularity.
To list Kevin’s achievements is to trace a timeline of modern dentistry. But to truly honour him, we must remember the man behind them. Kevin was kind. Measured. Generous with his time. Fiercely loyal to the profession. He listened more than he spoke – but when he spoke, people listened.
Kevin was the calm voice at the end of the phone, the wise mind in the meeting room, the dry wit in the pub after a conference. A mentor without ever making a fuss about it. He helped others rise, always without expectation of credit.
Dentistry is richer because of Kevin Lewis. We owe it to him to carry forward his values: reasoned leadership, professional solidarity, ethical courage, and an unwavering belief in doing the right thing – even when it’s hard.
To his wife Rhiannon, his children Nick and Angharad, and to all who loved him, we offer our deepest condolences.
And to Kevin – thank you. You left this profession far better than you found it.
You will be deeply missed.
