If you compare the modern politician to the politicians of the past, a startling difference begins to emerge. Once, the actions of our politicians were underpinned by ideological positions, developed through years of reading, formulation, and restructuring of thought; with the political arenas of this country becoming battlegrounds for intellectual gladiators.
‘Ideology’ can have many meanings, often being used by right and left as a term of abuse. Here, a thick definition will be deployed, referring to an intellectual vision or philosophical approach from which public policy may be derived or inspired rather than to refer exclusively to narrow historical positions (eg. Conservatism, Socialism etc.). The post-war period was a time of clashing, merging, and in some cases diverging examples of these ideologies with public policy coming downstream of intellectual centres in the research departments, think tanks, and the evangelist calls of maverick MPs.
Even the great political chameleon act of Conservative support for the so-called ‘post-war consensus’ was not simply a shrewd move but was rooted in an ancient conception of Toryism and articulated by Macleod, Butler, and Maudling at the Conservative Research Department. Through the work of these intellectuals, a truly coherent and conservative take on the newly expanded state was developed and, with the policies derived from it (such as housing reform) the Conservative Party won a series of convincing election victories throughout the 1950s.
Then, in the 1980s, whether or not you believe there was a coherent ‘Thatcherite’ ideology, you must accept that it was a manifestation of another old strain of right-wing thought, dabbling with monetarism and neoliberalism while engaged in struggle with the older ‘One Nation’ conservatism discussed above. On the other side, Labour, while in their ‘wilderness years’ were engaged in intellectual soul-searching under first the literary critic, Michael Foot and continued under the great Welsh orator Neil Kinnock. Both of these men based their positions in intellectual socialism, engaging in conflict with the social democratic Gang of Four and the left-wing firebrand Tony Benn, paving the way for Tony Blair’s ‘New Labour’ position. In the 1980s then, both parties were in the throes of intellectual struggle and reformulation, guided by profound writers and deeply thoughtful figures as far apart intellectually as Redwood and Benn. This was no mere aberration of a few decades, instead representing a kind of politics which was simply once the norm.
So, has there been a true decline in the intellectual sphere of politics? Well, the answer can be found in a simple exercise. Ask yourself the following: does Starmerism exist? Will, one day, an MP invoke the noble name of Boris Johnson to lend weight to their argument in the Commons? What differences in fundamental philosophy lie between Kemi Badenoch and Ed Davey? While I’m sure that you can discern a few differences in principle or in priority among the modern parties, I’m also sure that you will identify the shallowness of these differences, equivalent perhaps only to the colours of their ties.
At this point, you may be reminded of the ‘new kids on the block’ of Farage and Reform UK and their rhetoric of the so-called “uniparty” and, in some ways, you would be right. Farage identified a popular conception of an unimaginative political class and ran with it to power himself and his faction into government under the banner, quite literally, of “Reform”.
In truth, however, they are no different. Reform hides behind a façade of ideological difference to mobilise a populist uprising with little coherence or thought in policy besides this. What is their position? A quick glance at the ‘Policy’ page of their website betrays their populism. Of nineteen policy pledges, the first four are essentially a stuck record of anti-immigration promises with the rest a confused combination of buzzwords, age-old populist lines, and fairy tale of a ‘broken Britain’ only they can fix.
This simplistic message sticks because, in part, they’re right. Starmer’s Labour Party came into government with a vast majority and not a shred of ideological vision, being handed the keys to Number 10 simply by not being the Conservatives. The lack of any governing principles has been painfully obvious from U-turn after U-turn and an overwhelming lack of policy direction; government policy flitting from issue to issue. The same was true in the dying days of the Sunak government; a government without direction simply waiting for an inevitable defeat.
What went wrong? Keir Starmer and Rishi Sunak are arguably two of the most highly educated Prime Ministers this country has ever had and yet the intellectual offering of both parties in this period has never seemed more disjointed despite their obvious capacities for such thought. Arguably, the convergence of the parties since the days of New Labour around a neoliberal economic position has limited the scope for difference in vision. However, as outlined above, the example of the ‘post-war consensus’ disproves this idea, ideological difference is possible (and in some ways more necessary) in a time of political convergence.
A more convincing argument for this decline in intellectual fire is the change in tone and style of politics which has taken place over the last quarter century. From “Call me Tony” to Nigel Farage’s TikTok account, politicians have never been able to reach citizens more easily. Therefore, they amend their tone. They tell us that they’re “just like us” and, in that conception, there is no space for high ideology. As the politician lowers themself to speak to where they believe the people are, they sacrifice something of the elevated style where the ideals and intellect of the past reside. The people of this country are not stupid; we can handle some ideological thought. The popularity of Reform should signal to politicians that voters love to be told a story. Let those stories be filled with ideas and principles which can inspire and direct rather than divide. There is a road back. Let’s take it.