POLITICS
The Tories are gubu-smacked and their cup runneth over
BRUCE ANDERSON
After one striking outbreak of confu- sion during Charlie Haughey's premiership, an Irish government spokesman said that the events in question were 'grotesque, unbelievable, bizarre and unprecedented'. Shortened to `gubu', this passed into the Dublin political lexicon. It is now needed in Westminster, for there is no better way to describe recent developments in Tory poli- tics. The events of last week left most Tories feeling gubu-smacked.
Thus far, bitterness has obstructed analy- sis, while Robert Cranborne has no inten- tion of making more trouble by justifying his conduct. He would not find it hard to do so, because he acted as he did for two good reasons. He had lost confidence in those around Mr Hague and, unlike them, he knows what the House of Lords would do, and what it would refuse to do.
Though not naturally a deceiver, Robert Cranborne is a deceptive figure. He has the Etonian horror of being caught working, and he is not remotely interested in proving how clever he is. If people take him to be a languid, pleasure-seeking aristocrat, he would not dream of disabusing them. Those who have seen him in action know better. During the 1980s, he spent a lot of time try- ing to organise the Afghan resistance. At that stage, he seemed to have distanced himself from Westminster politics, but John Major had seen through the surface to the steel. He not only recalled Robert Cran- borne to the colours; he accelerated him to the Cabinet as well as to the Lords and then put him in charge of the 1995 leadership campaign. Mr Major only just stopped short of pushing aside Brian Mawhinney and making Lord Cranborne the supremo dur- ing the 1997 election. It was fascinating to watch how two men who had been as far apart in background as any members of the 1979 intake developed such a political affin- ity. These alliances used to be one of the Tory party's strengths.
While they served in Cabinet together, Robert Cranborne and William Hague had developed a considerable mutual regard. That did not survive Mr Hague's becoming leader. Some of those around Mr Hague could not see the point of Lord Cranborne, which was silly of them. They also let their feelings be known, which was asinine. Mr Blair — who may be emerging as a shrewd picker — did not imitate the Hague office's mistake. Robert Cranborne played a crucial role in negotiating and drafting the Good Friday agreement, virtually becoming Mr Blair's emissary to the Unionists.
The Cecils were originally noblesse de robe, and Lord Cranborne will sometimes insist that as they have only been around for 500 years, they are barely entitled to be described as aristocrats. That disclaimer is not entirely serious; Robert Cranborne himself is one of the last members of his order who will behave like a pre-Tudor magnate during a period of monarchical weakness. He sees no reason to be bound by a government — or opposition — policy of which he disapproves; instead, he will substitute his own.
Or, as last week, that of his Lords sup- porters. Many Tories had been in favour of scorched-earth tactics on Lords reform: fighting the government all the way and refusing to assist its escape from its self- inflicted difficulties. But there was one problem with that tactic: their Lordships are incurably constructive. Unlike many of their supporters, most peers have now accepted that Lords reform is inevitable. Their concern is not the protection of their own privileges; they merely want to ensure that the new second chamber is as soundly constructed as possible. This disinterested, indeed noble, attitude is greatly to their lordships' credit; it is also a strong argu- ment for the survival of the present House.
It was inevitable, therefore, that while Commons Tories were gleeful at the thought of the government wallowing in a constitutional quagmire and could not wait to expose Mr Blair's intellectual vacuity, their Lordships were horrified. Vacuous or not, the PM had a massive majority and the Parliament Act. If he wanted to wreck their House, he could.
So when Tony Blair halted his bulldozers and invited co-operation, their Lordships responded. Nor were they likely to be deflected by jibes about half-loaves. In their own domestic arrangements, and by pre- war standards, most peers have long ago settled for half a loaf at best, but this accommodating attitude has enabled many aristocratic families to survive in conditions of much greater affluence than seemed remotely possible in 1945.
Once Robert Cranborne had bargained upwards from 15 hereditary survivors to 91, he knew that he had a deal which he could no longer reject. Once it had been made public, it would not only have won the unanimous support of the cross-benchers; his own troops would have deserted en masse. He knew he was right, but he was unable to persuade Mr Hague. So he decid- ed to disregard that little local difficulty, and then acted ruthlessly.
It is never pleasant to be defied and out- manoeuvred. Mr Hague was entitled to be furious over the Cranborne bounce. But anger is a bad counsellor; in its grip, Mr Hague temporarily lost the ability to think straight. Above all, he refused to acknowl- edge the one inescapable fact: Lord Cran- borne had won. Whatever Mr Hague did, the bounce was unstoppable.
There is always something to be said for accepting the inevitable. Nor was there any- thing to prevent Mr Hague from deriding Mr Blair's acceptance of an hereditary ele- ment and with it his abandonment of the one point of principle which had underlain the government's proposals. If Mr Hague had been quick to recognise the new reali- ties, he could have dealt with Lord Cran- borne later. Robert Cranborne assumed that even if Mr Hague were to accept the bounce, he would not wish to retain his Lords shadow leader's services for a day longer than he had to. Lord Cranborne would have been happy to arrange the choreography for his own execution.
Mr Hague believes that he acted ruth- lessly. This shows that he does not fully understand the word. It was Lord Cran- borne who acted ruthlessly; he recognised political realities, he harmonised means and ends, and he achieved his objective with only one casualty: his own job. His sole regret is the damage to Mr Hague, but that was Mr Hague's fault. William Hague had the satisfaction of sacking the principal rebel, but at what a price. He has had to submit to the bounce, he only has a Lords front bench because Robert Cranborne prevailed on most of his colleagues to stay at their posts, and the whole affair has aroused alarm and despondency among tra- ditional Tories, who cannot understand what is happening to their party.
In the last century, an Irish MP was expa- tiating on the miseries which were afflicting his benighted island. He reached his per- oration: 'Ireland's cup of troubles is run- ning over — and it is not yet full.' After the events of the past week, a lot of Tories know what he meant.
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