POLITICS

So the Tory Parliamentary party finally got its way

BRUCE ANDERSON

Iwas wrong. Two weeks ago, I informed the readers of The Spectator that 5 per cent of those who voted Tory in 1992 had defected while 20 per cent were still unde- cided and 75 per cent were loyal. That remained my view. Until I heard the exit polls, I still thought that there was a chance of a hung Parliament. In reality, only one element of the prediction was correct. In percentage terms, the Tories did indeed retain 75 per cent of their 1992 vote; all the rest either deserted or abstained.

But I am still convinced that a lot of the undecideds did not make up their mind until the final hours. I spent the final two days of the campaign in the Midlands. When Tory canvassers were told, 'We will decide for ourselves, thank you,' one knew that these were unlikely to be Tory voters. But there were so many people who said, 'Yes, we've had your literature. No, there's nothing we want to ask about. Tonight, we're going to sit down and read everything and think about it,' or even, 'We'll probably vote, but we will not make up our minds until tomorrow.' Politely but firmly, those whom the preliminary canvassers had iden- tified as doubtful were exercising their right to hoard their indecision.

And the Tories got none of them. Sleaze, memories of the recession, time for a change; all those memories and slogans came flooding back, reinforced by anxieties about education and health. After 18 years in power, a government is blamed for any- thing and everything. Most of the doubtfuls liked John Major, but their enthusiasm was underwhelming; an insufficient antidote to their distaste for his party. The Tory party failed to persuade the voters to approve of them or to fear their opponents.

This was not the campaign's fault; the damage was done several years ago, and its origins were economic. The recession last- ed longer than had been expected and much of the pain fell on Tory supporters, as did the tax rises. The UK's forced with- drawal from the ERM completed the rout, and the collapse of the Tory party's reputa- tion for economic management. From then on until the end, Mr Major's government was widely regarded as incompetent and intellectually dishonest.

The charge of incompetence was justi- fied; that of dishonesty much less so. A lot of neutral observers had believed that the recession would end in time to avoid exces- sive strain on the borrowing requirement, but the government itself ought to have had more reliable information. In 1991/2, the PM and the Chancellor should have known that fiscal tightening — spending cuts or tax rises — was inescapable, but they gave the opposite impression. They can be acquitted of deliberate deception, but they were guilty of wishful thinking.

Apropos of the ERM, a measure of intel- lectual dishonesty was inescapable. From quite early on, the government had doubts as to the durability of British membership. But there was a problem. If even a scintilla of a hint of those doubts had been made public, the policy would instantly have col- lapsed. But as Stafford Cripps and James Callaghan could have reminded Messrs Major and Lamont, if the pound is forced to devalue within a fixed exchange rate sys- tem, the Chancellor responsible will not enjoy having his previous statements quot- ed back at him. Yet — though it is impossi- ble to explain this to the general public — ministers in charge of a fixed parity do not merely have the right to lie about their intentions; they have a duty to lie.

There is one respect in which govern- ment policies on the ERM and on the recession converge: in both cases, the suc- cesses greatly outweigh the failures. Inside or outside the ERM, interest rates would have had to be more or less the same until the April 1992 election in order to deal with inflation and calm the markets. Per- haps we should have left then, unforced; that would certainly have been better for the government's political reputation. But what about the national interest? There is an argument that by its willingness to con- template — however briefly — 15 per cent interest rates to defend the pound, the gov- ernment did validate its counter-inflation- ary credentials, which enabled them to sur- vive the collapse of its monetary policy.

Ministers did make monetary and fiscal mistakes in the early 1990s, but their princi- pal objectives were economic recovery and the defeat of inflation; both were achieved. This more than compensated for the errors, as the government could have argued. But it failed to do so. That was the real incom- petence: not economic, but political.

The government ought to have explained itself. It should have admitted its misjudg- ments; it could then have proclaimed its achievements. But by failing to take the British people into its confidence, it lost theirs; by refusing to confess that anything had gone wrong, it was unable to persuade the voters that anything had gone right.

Ministers rejected the advice to give a frank account of their record, for two rea- sons. They assumed that the recovery would efface earlier memories; they also feared that any discussion of the ERM would reanimate the Euro-feuds which had almost broken up the party. The fear was understandable, though the risk ought to have been taken, but the calculation over the effects of the recovery was doubly wrong: economically and politically.

It was almost inevitable that an inflation- free recovery would yield fewer electoral benefits than a traditional boom would have done. This was more a bankers' recov- ery than a High Street one. Moreover, inas- much as the voters did notice the recovery, they were not disposed to give the Tories any credit, as many Tory canvassers found. Most of those who were prepared grudg- ingly to admit that there had been a recov- ery of sorts clearly thought that it had hap- pened as much despite the government as because of it.

The government did not lose this elec- tion on Black Wednesday, back in Septem- ber 1992. It lost it because it failed to apol- ogise and failed to explain. Four and a half years of solid economic achievement were effaced by four and a half years of consis- tent political failure. On polling day, the ex- Tory undecideds did at last decide that they had no good reason to be grateful to Mr Major or to distrust Mr Blair. Many of them stayed at home.

There is one sole advantage from an overwhelming defeat: no one underesti- mates the scale of the task ahead. It is, indeed, easy to find Tories who think that the next election has been lost already. That is a foolish reaction; in Britain, all elections are won one at a time. A Tory vic- tory in 2001/2 is neither impossible nor inevitable.

After five years in which it frequently seemed determined to commit suicide, the Tory Parliamentary party finally got its way. As a result, the party is now condemned to a period of renewal. But renewal need not mean despair; it will be easier for the Tories to turn into an effective opposition than for Labour to become a good govern- ment.