Short Termism
James Butler
Comparisons were inevitable and humiliating, and came quickly. Liz Truss’s 44-day term, from winning the Conservative leadership contest until her resignation yesterday, was shorter than the lifespan of the average female mosquito (56 days) or a red blood cell (155). Henry VIII was married to Anne of Cleves for longer – 185 days – and even Andrew Neil stuck it out at GB News for 56. The most stinging comparison, though, is that Truss spent 53 days campaigning for the Conservative leadership, nine more than she spent holding it. She exhibited such manifest detachment from reality during the campaign that many journalists convinced themselves she couldn’t really mean what she said. Surely she was just flattering the manifold prejudices of the tiny group of reactionaries whose support she needed to win? But it turned out she did mean it. It’s amazing anyone thought it would work.
The details of the contest to replace her are still slightly liquid, but from Sir Graham Brady’s public statements so far it seems it will take only a week, involve some digital consultation of the Tory membership, and impose a very high qualifying threshold of 100 nominations from other MPs. The purpose of this may be to force a coronation, perhaps of Rishi Sunak, but the process presents obstacles: other competitors are already bidding, and Sunak is not widely loved by the membership. Behind those already vying for the job looms the shadow of Boris Johnson, whose friends are briefing that he thinks it may be in the ‘national interest’ – idiosyncratically defined – for him to stand.
It’s unsurprising that Johnson entertains hope of a return, like Churchill. It would be easier for him to do his Cincinnatus routine – a clanging reference which decorated his resignation speech – were he attending his duties rather than sunning himself in the Dominican Republic, despite parliament currently sitting. ‘Called from the beach while he should have been working’ doesn’t have quite the same noble glamour as ‘called from his plough’. He is still unpopular in the country, still under investigation by the privileges committee and could still face censure, suspension and perhaps a recall petition. Sitting MPs have threatened to defect or resign at the possibility. Johnson’s pretended victimhood – betrayed by his chancellor, investigated by joyless minnows – may yet appeal to the Tory faithful, whose victim complexes are underremarked but a persistent feature of British politics. Still, surely not? But we heard that phrase six weeks ago.
Truss won for the same reason that the contest to succeed her will be messy: the Conservatives are an extremely divided party, inheriting twelve years of their own mismanagement of the country, held together more by their eagerness to retain power than much idea about what to do with it, or willingness to tackle the problems their predecessors caused. Truss was never the favourite of Tory politicians – familiarity bred justified contempt – but she represented a peculiar brand of ultra-libertarian Thatcher cultism with a strong nostalgic constituency in the party, now irreparably tarnished (surely?) in the country at large.
The politics of the post-austerity state, and the reshaping of the Conservative Party through Brexit, leave it ideologically muddled. It still contains many disciples of austerity – Sunak and Hunt being the most prominent – but many of its 2019 voters hunger, sometimes literally, for a more generous state. Some of them are also fond of the ultra-reactionary social politics championed by the gratuitously cruel if otherwise undistinguished Suella Braverman and Kemi Badenoch. Yet many of the voters who brought Cameron to power over a decade ago are repelled by that politics. It is also increasingly associated with Brexit, which is the reason many Tories think of Penny Mordaunt – a committed Brexiter since the beginning – as a crypto-Remainer, given her record of occasionally saying nice things about gay people.
The spectacle of fringe libertarianism crashing and burning on contact with the real world would be funny if we didn’t have to live through the consequences. It isn’t clear what Conservatives think conservatism is any longer: what aspect of actually existing British society (rather than ersatz Victorian fantasy) they seek to conserve, or even what they think the roots of the country’s problems in fact are. The easy, nonsense answers – Remainer fifth columnists, decadent critical race theorists and debauched metropolitans – have their idiot adherents still, some of them sincere and dangerous rather than merely cynical. But they are fictions that won’t stand up to the very real problems of the winter now bearing down on us. The kind of serious reflection that’s needed is better done in opposition, which is one reason it’s vanishingly unlikely to rear its head in the coming week, even if there were anyone capable of it in the party’s ranks.
Winter is still coming, with all the problems – inflation, energy price and sourcing, geopolitical instability, industrial unrest, a collapsing health service – that were evident at the beginning of the Truss episode, now with an increased risk premium on government borrowing and a further declining currency. Britain has had de facto non-government for many months, and it isn’t obvious that Truss’s successor will be able to avoid fractious internal party struggles even as the country’s emergencies cry out for attention. One fantasy that persists among press and politicians alike is that the maelstrom of 21st-century politics is an aberration, and a return to the mean of stable late 20th-century government is just around the corner – perhaps with a better calibre of leader. It isn’t. For the foreseeable future, we face a series of overlapping crises of such magnitude that they require leaders of epoch-making imagination and resourcefulness to meet them.
Basic democratic propriety cries out for a general election, given how far the government has travelled from the manifesto on which it was elected, and how few people now get a say in choosing who rules us. Cases from propriety or basic moral dignity do not make the politics more yielding, however: any Tory prime minister who sought dissolution now would be sacrificing a large swathe of their parliamentary party and bringing their own leadership to a swift end. However desirable that would be for the country, they are unlikely to do it.
Though overshadowed by the Tory death spiral, Keir Starmer’s speech to the TUC yesterday did not offer overwhelming hope: he promised a repeal of the 2016 Trade Union Act – leaving Britain’s industrial legislation still among the most restrictive in Europe, as Blair used to boast – and indicated that the chaos inflicted on the economy will seriously fetter the next Labour government. ‘Things are going to be really tough … [We] have to be the party of sound money.’ It is likely, even if polls narrow, that Starmer will win the next election with the largest Labour majority since 1997. Constraints cannot be wished away. But it is hardly rising to our epochal problems to commit to squandering that majority in advance.
Comments
The Conservative Party certainly need a spell in opposition, which is why they will hang on until 1924, waiting for Johnson to pull the white rabbit out of the hat and wave his magic wand to get them a majority . What two more years of the Tories will do to the country is not hard to forecast. Privatize the NHS, maximize the profits from education, open more free trade havens, privatize Channel 4 of course and dole out more lordships to Russian refugees.
(The millennium bug abides.)
Since Thatcher the consensus across all parties has changed. Either they sell the family silver or they sell future income streams (eg PFI).
The second key change is that government and the civil service needs a minimum of expertise. Ministerial responsibility doesn't exist anymore.
The current problem for the Conservatives is to decide whether they represent hedonism (high spending in the Johnsonian style) or moralism (austerity after Orborne). Truss and Kwarteng presented mixed messages which confused the money markets, offering tax cuts (hedonism) and spending cuts (austere moralism).
In the meantime, Starmer and Reeves are striving to present Labour as the party of ‘sound fiscal discipline’ – a moralist position. It may be argued that the next General Election will be a showdown between moralism and hedonism.