It is surprising how much attention the Tory leadership contest is getting. Considering that the party has no parliamentary power or mass popular support, and that the long process of choosing a new leader is still in its early stages, the candidates have attracted a remarkable amount of coverage.
After the great Labour landslide of 1997 the Tories were pushed so far out of the public gaze as to be scarcely visible. Nothing much that they said or did seemed to be worthy of more than fleeting consideration.
That historical moment really did look like an extinction event not only for the party but for centre-Right politics itself: Blair’s New Labour had stolen the clothes of the Thatcher revolution and the original forces which had created it had been displaced, possibly forever.
So why is the current picture different? Certainly, as is now widely accepted, voters this time were more disgusted with the Conservatives than they were enthused by Labour. But their anger clearly did not cause them to reject the principles of Conservatism.
On the contrary, many of them were furious because they believed those principles had been abandoned and traduced. They did not want less Conservatism, they wanted more – or, at least, they wanted a more effective, coherent rendition of it.
And rather like bitter divorcees they are still consumed by recrimination and frustration: this relationship is not over, its failure remains unresolved and exasperating. That is why so many traditional Tory supporters voted Reform out of revenge, thus guaranteeing a huge Labour majority by default.
It was not that Reform offered any serious programme for government but it was a vehicle for protest on behalf of voters who felt that their needs – and their communities – no longer counted for anything in the established Westminster game.
Inevitably there is now talk of Reform replacing the Conservatives as the major party of Opposition and there is, as well, a seemingly more plausible argument for a merger between the two parties. Neither of these things will – or should – happen.
The first proposition – that Reform might succeed the Tories as official Opposition or at least outperform them in successfully attacking the Labour government – is the easier one to dismiss. The public has a very clear (and correct) view of Reform as a single issue campaign group designed as a vehicle for one man’s personality.
I do not believe that Nigel Farage himself, or the small number of MPs who were elected on the back of the immigration issue, have any real interest in the rather tedious business of parliamentary process or the responsibilities of government.
Indeed, their highly successful campaign formula was to attack from outside the existing boundaries, criticising sitting governments and responsible Oppositions for failing to deliver results which are, under the presently foreseeable circumstances, undeliverable.
That is a great pitch at a tumultuous public rally but an impossible one to enact in power. They are, in other words, happiest where they are – able to influence public opinion with no obligation to deliver.
Whereas the real party of the Right knows that what it says must be substantial, realistic and open to examination. Somehow it must make clear that it understands and accepts the anger of the country while maintaining the core beliefs which have to be at the heart of its identity.
And that formidable task must be accomplished with a minimal amount of factional antagonism if they are not to appear, once again, to be a shambolic, disunited rabble. Again, it was remarkable that the four candidates doing their catwalk turns at party conference managed to achieve something close to that.
All of them, from the two favourites on the Right, Jenrick and Badenoch, to the new centrist hero Cleverly and the least likely Tugendhat looked humanly engaging. That is peculiarly significant given the glaring weakness of Sir Keir Starmer in this department.
I can’t recall any prime minister whose personality was more unsuited to political leadership. (Possibly Edward Heath?) The blank unchanging facial expression, the lack of any perceptible sense of humour, the single repetitive cadence to his speech, and the inability to manifest warmth to a crowd.
Is he arrogant enough to believe that the country will just have to accept his minimal emotional engagement? Or is the real man in hiding – terrified of being found out as vacuous or self-serving? Who knows?
It is particularly strange because, in my experience, male politicians are generally more openly empathetic and socially relatable than most men – because they have to be to get elected.
I am sure that this, as much as anything, accounts for the astonishingly rapid loss in public support for Starmer’s government which scarcely had a wedding night, let alone a honeymoon.
But what of the possibility of a Tory-Reform merger? Farage is certainly wise to reject this idea. He and his party would simply become assets to any future Conservative party while losing their precious anti-Establishment identity.
The historical lesson here is served by the Social Democratic Party which launched itself on a plausible platform of replacing Labour after its 1979 implosion. It was headed by some very big beasts indeed – Roy Jenkins, David Owen and Shirley Williams – who had considerably more credibility and governing experience than Reform can offer now. And what happened to them?
Almost nobody talks about them anymore because for all their founders’ gravitas and distinguished accomplishments in office, the new party could not make an electoral dent.
Eventually they merged with the Liberals and effectively evaporated when New Labour stole much of their script. That would almost certainly be the model for any Tory-Reform pact.
The Conservatives would simply absorb the Farage message and, in the process, make it more achievable and widely palatable, thus extinguishing Reform’s renegade appeal.
For the moment at least, the question for the Tories and their prospective leaders must be: how do we acknowledge the anger that drove half our voters to Reform’s magical thinking without succumbing to it ourselves?
The country seems interested enough in the answer to listen.
There are no serious challenges to the party in the long-term, and Labour is flailing under the rule of Sir Keir Starmer
It is surprising how much attention the Tory leadership contest is getting. Considering that the party has no parliamentary power or mass popular support, and that the long process of choosing a new leader is still in its early stages, the candidates have attracted a remarkable amount of coverage.
After the great Labour landslide of 1997 the Tories were pushed so far out of the public gaze as to be scarcely visible. Nothing much that they said or did seemed to be worthy of more than fleeting consideration.
That historical moment really did look like an extinction event not only for the party but for centre-Right politics itself: Blair’s New Labour had stolen the clothes of the Thatcher revolution and the original forces which had created it had been displaced, possibly forever.
So why is the current picture different? Certainly, as is now widely accepted, voters this time were more disgusted with the Conservatives than they were enthused by Labour. But their anger clearly did not cause them to reject the principles of Conservatism.
On the contrary, many of them were furious because they believed those principles had been abandoned and traduced. They did not want less Conservatism, they wanted more – or, at least, they wanted a more effective, coherent rendition of it.
And rather like bitter divorcees they are still consumed by recrimination and frustration: this relationship is not over, its failure remains unresolved and exasperating. That is why so many traditional Tory supporters voted Reform out of revenge, thus guaranteeing a huge Labour majority by default.
It was not that Reform offered any serious programme for government but it was a vehicle for protest on behalf of voters who felt that their needs – and their communities – no longer counted for anything in the established Westminster game.
Inevitably there is now talk of Reform replacing the Conservatives as the major party of Opposition and there is, as well, a seemingly more plausible argument for a merger between the two parties. Neither of these things will – or should – happen.
The first proposition – that Reform might succeed the Tories as official Opposition or at least outperform them in successfully attacking the Labour government – is the easier one to dismiss. The public has a very clear (and correct) view of Reform as a single issue campaign group designed as a vehicle for one man’s personality.
I do not believe that Nigel Farage himself, or the small number of MPs who were elected on the back of the immigration issue, have any real interest in the rather tedious business of parliamentary process or the responsibilities of government.
Indeed, their highly successful campaign formula was to attack from outside the existing boundaries, criticising sitting governments and responsible Oppositions for failing to deliver results which are, under the presently foreseeable circumstances, undeliverable.
That is a great pitch at a tumultuous public rally but an impossible one to enact in power. They are, in other words, happiest where they are – able to influence public opinion with no obligation to deliver.
Whereas the real party of the Right knows that what it says must be substantial, realistic and open to examination. Somehow it must make clear that it understands and accepts the anger of the country while maintaining the core beliefs which have to be at the heart of its identity.
And that formidable task must be accomplished with a minimal amount of factional antagonism if they are not to appear, once again, to be a shambolic, disunited rabble. Again, it was remarkable that the four candidates doing their catwalk turns at party conference managed to achieve something close to that.
All of them, from the two favourites on the Right, Jenrick and Badenoch, to the new centrist hero Cleverly and the least likely Tugendhat looked humanly engaging. That is peculiarly significant given the glaring weakness of Sir Keir Starmer in this department.
I can’t recall any prime minister whose personality was more unsuited to political leadership. (Possibly Edward Heath?) The blank unchanging facial expression, the lack of any perceptible sense of humour, the single repetitive cadence to his speech, and the inability to manifest warmth to a crowd.
Is he arrogant enough to believe that the country will just have to accept his minimal emotional engagement? Or is the real man in hiding – terrified of being found out as vacuous or self-serving? Who knows?
It is particularly strange because, in my experience, male politicians are generally more openly empathetic and socially relatable than most men – because they have to be to get elected.
I am sure that this, as much as anything, accounts for the astonishingly rapid loss in public support for Starmer’s government which scarcely had a wedding night, let alone a honeymoon.
But what of the possibility of a Tory-Reform merger? Farage is certainly wise to reject this idea. He and his party would simply become assets to any future Conservative party while losing their precious anti-Establishment identity.
The historical lesson here is served by the Social Democratic Party which launched itself on a plausible platform of replacing Labour after its 1979 implosion. It was headed by some very big beasts indeed – Roy Jenkins, David Owen and Shirley Williams – who had considerably more credibility and governing experience than Reform can offer now. And what happened to them?
Almost nobody talks about them anymore because for all their founders’ gravitas and distinguished accomplishments in office, the new party could not make an electoral dent.
Eventually they merged with the Liberals and effectively evaporated when New Labour stole much of their script. That would almost certainly be the model for any Tory-Reform pact.
The Conservatives would simply absorb the Farage message and, in the process, make it more achievable and widely palatable, thus extinguishing Reform’s renegade appeal.
For the moment at least, the question for the Tories and their prospective leaders must be: how do we acknowledge the anger that drove half our voters to Reform’s magical thinking without succumbing to it ourselves?
The country seems interested enough in the answer to listen.