What does the prospect of losing power mean for a party that feels it was born to rule? That question has been haunting the Conservatives for almost two years, ever since Boris Johnson’s administration started to unravel with the Owen Paterson and Partygate scandals in late 2021 – the period when a probably decisive proportion of voters began to conclude that they had had enough of Tory government for now.
These have been frantic years for the party, full of policy U-turns, the emergence of new factions, leadership contests, cabinet reshuffles, changes of political strategy and increasingly desperate promises to voters – such as Rishi Sunak’s this week to end “30 years” of “broken” politics and “fundamentally change our country”.
Yet despite all this activity, all these acknowledgements that the Tories are in trouble, they seem not to have got fully used yet to their new political situation: as a widely disliked, at least temporarily declining force, on a downward trajectory that may not end at the election. The scale of Sunak’s latest pledge, and of many others made at the Conservative conference this week, from the fringe to the main stage, suggests a party that still thinks it can do anything if it really tries.
The last time a period of Tory rule ended was so long ago, in the late 90s, that since becoming MPs, most leading Tory politicians, from Sunak to Suella Braverman to Liz Truss, have known nothing but Tory or Tory-dominated governments. The party has also operated in an even more favourable media environment than usual, with the Tory press in a particularly tribal phase, new rightwing broadcasters starting up, reactionaries busy on social media and the previously troublesome BBC often cowed or compromised by Conservative appointees. By bullying other independent institutions such as the civil service, bending or breaking the law and Westminster conventions, and making it harder for anti-Tory sections of the electorate such as the young to vote, the Conservatives have further concentrated power in themselves. For 13 years they have brazenly demonstrated why they are one of the most ruthless parties in the democratic world.
But in the end it hasn’t worked. This week’s party conference was sickly with signs of power draining away: a thin attendance, fewer corporate exhibitors, a shrunken hall for the main speeches, and empty spaces all round the cavernous Manchester Central convention complex. Sometimes, only the number of police there and in the surrounding streets made it clear that this was a gathering of a governing party and not a frustrated opposition.
Even the fact that the conference happened before the Labour one, rather than vice versa, which is the customary arrangement, felt like a demotion for the Conservatives – although the switch was actually caused by Labour venue-booking problems. Instead of the Tories, Labour will get the last word.
There is also a hint of defeat in the Conservatives’ clunky new slogan, “long-term decisions for a brighter future”, with its implication that in the shorter term the government’s policies are not going to be appreciated. For a party that has so often relied on pre-election booms and tax cuts, and other cynical last-minute manoeuvres, to start talking about the long term is an inadvertent admission of failure.
Another unintentionally revealing feature of the conference was the overwhelming proportion of speakers arguing that the solution to the party’s problems was to move further rightwards. Even Penny Mordaunt, previously a rare Tory leadership contender who did not always try to sound as rightwing as possible, opted for a crude Margaret Thatcher impression, urging the party to “stand up and fight” against “the iron fist” of the unions, as if she was addressing a Tory conference 40 years ago. Such speeches are meant to signal assertiveness and defiance, but feel more like a party retreating into its comfort zones, to hold on to its elderly core support, avoid an electoral rout and have something to build on afterwards.
The last time a Tory conference took place with a loss of power looming was in 1996, the year before Tony Blair’s first landslide. The prime minister was John Major, as stiff a public speaker as Sunak but rather more relatable. He made a tired speech condemning benefit dependency and attacking Labour as unprincipled, themes that were endlessly recycled by ministers this week. Not much sign of Sunak’s new politics there.
The 1996 conference was mentioned by Jacob Rees-Mogg at a launch event for the New Conservatives, a new, ultra-traditionalist party within a party, with a highly optimistic echo in its name of New Labour. “I remember we were a desert of ideas in 1996,” he said. “Now we are an oasis of them.” It was meant to be a typical bit of Rees-Mogg bravado. But it was telling that he had felt required to draw the contrast. All through the conference, the ghosts of his party’s three consecutive election defeats starting in 1997 drifted round the chilly convention hall.
Partly because many Tories still have contempt for Keir Starmer, there is an unspoken assumption in the party that its time in opposition will not be lengthy. This helps explain the intensity of the barely hidden competition to replace Sunak: whoever wins expects to be prime minister.
Starmer’s lack of rapport with the public so far, and the great problems that any premiership of his is likely to inherit, can make this Tory confidence seem justified. But if he proves better at government than opposition, which his record as a capable head of organisations suggests he might be, then the media excitement that still surrounds every twist in the Tory leadership saga, and the Tory soap opera generally, may dwindle. Their conferences could go back to what they were in the late 90s and early 00s: targets of mockery, homes of lost causes, places where politics slows right down.
We’re not there yet. For now, the Tories remain in a contradictory state: self-doubting but self-important, desperate for new ideas but dogmatic in their principles, probably on the way out but still wielding great power. To judge by the many glum and pensive faces in conference audiences this week, this state is not comfortable. But many Tories believe that opposition would be much worse. To avoid it, Britain’s party of power before all else may do almost anything.
Andy Beckett is a Guardian columnist
