THE THIRD-YEAR TROUGH
Michael Trend traces the
cycle in which Tory conferences repeat themselves
DURING the years that Mrs Thatcher has been Prime Minister we have become used to a four-year parliamentary cycle. Within this framework the Conservative Party conferences have fallen into a fairly consis- tent pattern. Immediately following the general elections of 1979, 1983 and 1987 we saw the first part of the four-year progres- sion, the 'triumph' (although Cecil Parkin- son's departure in disgrace in 1983 cast something of a cloud over that year); in the second years — 1980, 1984 and 1988 when the party faithful had yet to recover their taste for electioneering and were letting their ministers get on with things we had the `low-key' conference (as was the case, in political terms, in 1984 before the terrible events at the Grand Hotel). The fourth year of the cycle is the 'next- step-forward' pre-election `rally'; as spec- tator sports these rallies are only marginal- ly less dreadful than the `triumphs'.
But the third years — 1981, 1985 and this year — have always been the most fun for observers because, between the low-key' and the 'rally' we have the low-point' conference. In October 1981 the new Social Democrats were (taking the Gallup figures) within three points of both Labour and the Conservatives (by Christmas the party of power had dropped to third place in the opinion polls). In October 1985 things were no better: Labour was six points ahead, having risen almost nine points in one month. This year opinion polls show Labour something around ten points ahead. Most Tories dislike greatly being in this position and they want to say so. They tell themselves that this is prob- ably the last chance they will have before a general election to voice their discontent; at any later moment such disaffection would seem too flagrant a disregard for the iron laws of Conservative Party discipline. They make their voice heard by speak- ing generally of failings in the 'leader- ship of ministers'; but they also mean in the leader herself. The greatest taboo subject of the contemporary Conservative Party — the 'Thatcher factor' — has been at the heart of many of their deliberations at Blackpool this week. This is what makes the 'low-point' conference much the most interesting of the cycle.
In 1981 and 1985 questions about Mrs Thatcher's leadership came from two levels of the Party. First, we saw senior Con- servative figures making 'rebellious' speeches in public. In 1981 the former party leader, Edward Heath, couldn't wait to get started and even before the confer- ence signalled that he was after a change 'consensus' was the key word then. From the podium Mr Heath then gave his main message (heard also at the conference from Sir Ian Gilmour), that 'there is an alterna- tive'. (This was the occasion, incidentally, when Mr Heath made one of his best jokes: 'Please don't applaud, it may irritate your neighbour'.) Although the arguments advanced in 1981 were mainly about the direction of the economy (how little changes), the matter of Mrs Thatcher's leadership was also raised. Mr Heath compared the predica- ment that he felt his party found itself in at that time to various previous crises, and added that the position was 'more critical than the leadership crisis of 1963-4'. Nor- man St John-Stevas (as he then was) made a passionate appeal at a fringe meeting for the 'vital centre ground' in British politics which led Frank Johnson drily to observe that 'he said that the Tory Party should be led by Disraeli, if one understood his message correctly'.
In 1985 the main dissenting top-table voice was Peter Walker's, with Sir Ian Gilmour again adding a supporting note. Mr Walker spoke of the Government appearing complacent and uncaring about the problems of unemployment: 'If we espouse that complacent attitude it will be political suicide for us among decent work- ing families, who will not be satisfied with the morality of "I'm all right, Jack".' It was clear that he was referring to an earlier speech that the Prime Minister had made about the 'moaning minnies' who failed to emphasise that 87 per cent of the work force were employed, a point that was taken up and developed at the conference itself by the deputy chairman of the party at that time, Jeffrey Archer. (It was a fine irony that while Mr Archer's super-loyalty did him an enormous damage, Peter Wal- ker survived unscathed. Indeed, apart from the recently demoted Sir Geoffrey Howe, Mr Walker is now the only member of the Cabinet to have sat also in Ted Heath's — with the exception of Margaret Thatcher.) The second level from which we hear unhappy voices at the low-point' confer- ence is that of the rank-and-file. The `faithful' have their own way of expressing themselves; the third-year conference programme has always been the toughest that the party organisers have to face. In both 1981 and 1985 the motions submitted from local Conservative associations con- veyed many hard verdicts on the economy, unemployment and, that perennial favourite, law and order — areas where Conservatives felt that they had given their Government a fair chance to deliver but were now worried that things were not going right — and, more important, might not be all right on the night of the next general election. This year unemployment is in the background; other more specific worries — such as the community charge, the privatisation programme and the en- vironment — have come to the fore.
But a more revealingly characteristic feature of the low-point' conference are those motions that speak of 'poor presenta- tion of policy' (there are 90 of them this year). Now that the 'presidential' aspect of politics has grown enormously, the party leader is particularly seen as having a vital and personal responsibility for his or her party's public relations. Questions about `presentation', then, are a way of addres- sing the leader. And in the case of the Conservatives, 'poor presentation' does not just mean poor presentation to the country as a whole but, more specifically, poor presentation to themselves. The ever- growing cry of 'poor presentation' is a measure of the distance that they feel Margaret Thatcher has put between herself and them.
In the past, recognition of this has been especially visible from the replies that have been given from the platform to the presentation debate. Here we have heard two messages: first, the call to the floor for `loyalty to the leader% but, second, a gentler reminder to her of the breadth of the party she leads — the key phrases and words here are 'team' and 'nation' (as in `one nation'). In 1981 the task of replying to the presentation debate fell to Francis Pym, then Lord President of the Council and Leader of the House. He, who later was to make such a pig's ear of the Conservative Centre Forward group, spoke of 'Mrs Thatcher's unswerving lead- ership' as well as the need to convince people that the Conservatives 'were still the party of one nation'. In 1985 — slogan, `Serving the Nation' — it was Norman Tebbit's turn, as the recently appointed party Chairman: he cleverly got the double message into one phrase, telling his fellow Conservatives to 'use that unique weapon of loyalty again, let us play as a team'.
This year's 'presentation' debate has been given star billing in the morning of the leader's address. Party managers have chosen the slogan 'The Right Team for Britain's Future'. They have also, no doubt, advised Mrs Thatcher to be seen as much as possible on the platform; 1985 was a great year for her sitting in her place, almost continuously it seemed, nodding, taking notes and generally exuding an air of interest in what was being said from the podium. This year's newly installed party Chairman, Kenneth Baker, must be hoping that not much is said about the exceptionally poor presentational approach at the recent European elect- ion, a subject that perhaps involves the Prime Minister rather too closely. For from the unhappy moment . in the summer dates a much more specific feeling about the way in which Mrs Thatch- er has grown away from her party: that she has surrounded herself in Downing Street with, a courtier class and become cut off from her 'real people'. That such a feeling is in the air is potentially as dangerous for her as it was for her predecessor in 1974/5. Sir Ian Gilmour's comment in 1985 on the whole business of calls for 'better presenta- tion' is worth another airing (although some may feel that the image chosen is perhaps a little too dramatic): 'The Emper- or Nero, we are told, fiddled while Rome burnt. But at least he noticed Rome was burning.'
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