AND ANOTHER THING
When the troops finally enter the No 10 bunker, they may find almost nobody there
PAUL JOHNSON
The great Conservative Government, so invincible-seeming in the 1980s, is now coasting down to catastrophe. By rights, next week's Tory party conference ought to be a premature wake. There is a feeling of 1905 in the air, when the world-weary, exhausted Balfour regime was in its last, supine months. As in those days, there is the same combination of intellectual anaemia, policy poverty and going through the motions of ruling. Also a whiff, not so much of corruption as such, but of job-find- ing, genteel snouts in the trough, let's make hay while we still can.
Balfour's gang was known as the Hotel Cecil after the name of the family firm. In that ample establishment, there was always a niche for a second cousin once removed. Very run down towards the end, it still had a perceptible air of faded aristocratic smartness, even a hint of culture. Balfour was one of 'the Souls'. He wrote philoso- phy. He read poetry.
No vestige of that kind of quality today. Major's No 10 is embattled suburbia, a provincial golf course under siege, a barri- caded country club. The Last Days of John Major is an epic of chartered accountants, car-salesmen's valour, PR heroism. They died, as Lloyd George put it, 'with their drawn salaries in their hands', so that the likes of Jeffrey Archer, David Mellor and Steven Norris might survive and prosper. Actually, when the Allied troops finally enter the bunker they may find almost nobody there. Even Norris announces he is off 'to rebuild my business'.
Among the beleaguered garrison there is some admiration for what is seen as Dou- glas Hurd's canniness: 'Got out in good time and grabbed a cushy £200,000-year job at NatWest. Won't be many of those around come Der Tag.' Among the hundred or so members of the Government, many of whom expect to lose their seats as well as their offices, all sorts of envious rumours float around of a book contract here, a gilt- edged directorship there, a quango with a five-year contract even Labour can't cancel.
Oddly enough, there has been less vicious in-fighting than expected for newly created safe seats as a result of redistribu- tion. After all, what is a safe seat nowa- days? It is doubtful whether the Tories could hold any at all in a by-election, and who knows what a general election will bring? There have been seismic shifts in traditional Tory allegiances recently. And anyway, being a Conservative MP and/or junior minister carries less social clout nowadays. 'The wives have lost heart' is one explanation I've heard for the fall in morale. These days, even Cabinet ministers can't always get through to key BBC pro- ducers or newspaper editors. 'Sorry, Mr Dacre/Stothard/Moore is in a meeting. May I take a message?' Only little Lloyd of the Express is still available, and nobody really wants him.
Not long ago, one of the few surviving Tory political grandees gave me this analy- sis. 'At the time, we thought the result of the last election was merciful deliverance from Mr Kinnock. We thought John Major had done a marvellous job against the odds. Actually, looking back, anyone could have beaten Kinnock — the public just wouldn't have him as prime minister. Now, I fear, a lot of people, including many of our peo- ple, think that about Major. Not up to it. Only thing he seems to be good at is hang- ing on. Winning the last election was a tragedy. The result may be to destroy the Tory party for a generation. People who have never before questioned their alle- giance now ask me what voting Tory means. They think the Government just hasn't got any principles or beliefs or morals — nothing at all. Just a bunch of corner-boys. It's very sad.' Then he added, 'I rather agree with you about Blair. He believes in things, doesn't he? Not much of that around now.'
In theory, the Government's stock ought to have risen markedly in the last two months, with Parliament away and the Labour Left pulling out all the stops to ensure that Blair loses the election. In fact, the polls have remained surprisingly consis- tent, and all Major's troubles will come back into the open again the moment MPs return to Westminster. The last chance the 'OK - two, three, four and throw the ball two, three, four,. aaannd fetch it!' Tories had of beating off Labour went in the summer, when Major contrived to hang on by buying Michael Heseltine's trusties. But those 40 or 50 votes came at a high price — letting Hezza stick his meddling fingers into every corner of the government pie, irritating Cabinet colleagues and senior civil servants alike. It is not as if Hezza has any genuine new ideas to contribute. He is that most dangerous of politicians, a man expert at PR and self-promotion — and nothing else.
Ideally, the party conference ought to be reacting eagerly to a spate of new govern- ment policies, and the Queen's Speech should be richer than a Christmas pudding. But with a majority of seven and no money to spend, what can you do? The Public Sec- tor Borrowing Requirement, which the Chancellor foolishly supposed would be only £21 billion as recently as May, now creeps up to £30 billion and beyond. It's a sign of desperation that a Tory Chancellor, in perhaps his last Budget, should be seri- ously considering a quasi-retrospective Windfall Tax against his Conservative allies in the utilities industry. The Budget is going to be tough for the government majority, with a real risk of defeat on a key vote.
There are other unpredictable dangers ahead — divorce reform, for instance, which ministers will be wise to avoid at any cost. But what hope is there for a govern- ment under siege if it cannot take the risk of a sortie? David Trimble's capture of the Unionist leadership is bad news for Major. He thinks he can get a better deal from Labour. Then, too, there are now large numbers of disgruntled Tory backbenchers or ex-ministers who are not standing again, who have no hope of a peerage — and therefore have nothing to lose — and each of whom has a score to settle with Major and his cronies. If the Government loses a major division this autumn, who can be so sure they can carry a vote of confidence? The only person who seems to be compla- cent about it is the new Chief Whip — and that is exactly what Tony Blair would want, isn't it?
The long years of Tory rule began when Jim Callaghan was beaten — for lack of one Irish vote, as it happened — on the floor of the House of Commons. It could end in exactly the same way. And why not? Maybe that is the best way Parliament can show that it still matters in the government of our country.
Previous page
