Conservative Party Conference, day one: In Search of Lost Tories

The first thing that strikes you is how youthful it all is. Gaggles of young men in suits mill around, greeting people they only half remember, trying their best to look and sound important. Compared to the surrounding streets of central Birmingham, it is noticeably white and noticeably affluent. You catch privately educated pronunciation from passers by; well dressed young women in trouser suits and heels click past while the blue suits laugh loudly at their own jokes. 

The ICC is a cavernous, impersonal space, buzzing and humming with a thousand background conversations. The main lobby cuts like a gorge between balconies, windows, and mezzanines rising several stories above on both sides. Like an airport, it is a neutral liminal space where everyone is either waiting or already on their way somewhere else. Soviet sized banners of the four leadership candidates - Kemi Badenoch, James Cleverly, Robert Jenrick, and Tom Tugendhat - smile benevolently down at us, less like the propaganda of old and more akin to the posters of players that welcome you to the turnstile queues at almost every sports stadium nowadays. Cleverly’s smile, though, doesn't remind anyone of a last minute winner against a hated rival and Jenrick’s worried eyes don't fill the crowds with confidence for the next match. 

I have time to kill because it had taken me longer than planned to get here. Euston was not the most auspicious of starts for my first Conservative Party Conference. It is a dark and dingy station, at odds with the newly revamped restaurants and offices surrounding it. It is squat, too shallow for its width, with long, crowded corridors. The toilets are in a state of near disrepair. For a station that is the gateway to London from the west of the country, you almost feel as if you are in the wrong place: maintenance and construction around every corner, the big screens that should house the timetables have been turned into advertising, so commuters crowd around A4 sized screens, clogging up the entrance, before rushing to the platform when it is announced. By the time I boarded, the four carriage train was completely full. A man with a bike is filled with the typical cyclists’ self-righteousness eventually grunts his acquiescence to moving down the carriage so others can get on. The only redeeming feature of spending my sunday morning being packed in like a midweek rush hour tube is seeing two suited and booted, pristinely quaffed hair, Tory boys with briefcases (not a good look for anyone under 40) look gobsmacked at the indignity of not being able to get on. 

I am staying in a room above a pub. On the map it seemed reasonably close, but weighed down by my bag  in the Midlands drizzle it feels further. The pub would undoubtedly have been busy in its heyday, before the industry around it closed, leaving it surrounded by wastelands, derelict buildings, trees growing out of the windows of abandoned warehouses and factories, and shuttered up industrial parks. It came as somewhat of a relief, therefore, to arrive in the secure but soulless surrounds of the ICC. 

I find myself a ledge to perch with a coffee and take out my notebook, trying (and failing) to channel my inner Truman Capote as I people watch. One long term effect of the pandemic that doesn't get enough attention is how it has affected men’s tailoring. Workplace dress became so much more casual after 2020 that suits became a rarity, often discarded in favour of a shirt with jeans/chinos combo. How often do you see a tie in central London anymore? The effects of this are really laid bare in front of me, more often than not in the form of trousers a couple of sizes too tight that dig into a stomach that was not that large in 2019, forcing it to mushroom over the belt. Some jackets pinch in at the armpit, others hang too loose - in both cases it is obvious the suit was not purchased recently. If I could name and shame him in order to yank him from his denial I would, but a gentleman not much older than myself has even forced his jacket to button, its Atlas like strength holding the white shirted globe bedding itself. For a second the button is pointed directly at me and I hope it bursts, flying across the lobby to hit me square between the eyes… but no luck, my little paragraph will have no comedy ending. 

Snippets of conversations as people walk past are more buzzwords than interlocution. In the space of no more than a few minutes I hear “red meat”, “conservative values”, and “unite the party” more times than I can count - while I am yet to eavesdrop on any original commentary. Tom Tugendhat also breezes past, smiling, surrounded by young aides. Too many really: more than half are so far behind him that they look like desperate hangers on, left shifting from foot to foot awkwardly when he stops to speak with an elder statesman. 

There are three predominant groups people here fall into:

1. The very busy suits, scurrying around and talking quickly. They seem to have somewhere to be, but never seem to be there. 

2. The ones that actually have somewhere to be and something important to do. They look nervous, shy, avoiding eye contact as they lug large bags or equipment. They are the political techies, the IT nerds, the AV club members.

3. The rest of us. The members, mostly wandering aimlessly looking for somewhere to sit in between events. Too unimportant for the PRs and lobbyists to waste their time with, we are lost in a sea of blue self-importance. 

In the space of five minutes while perched on my spot observing the crowds I am passed by two of the remaining three candidates. James Cleverly moves with confidence, standing taller than the journalists with outstretched mics on either side of him, striding with purpose through the swarm of photographers buzzing and clicking in front of him. Robert Jenrick is surprisingly short. While Cleverly looked like a leader (albeit in the minute I watched him he did nothing other than walk), Jenrick had the glazed, overwhelmed look of a Postcode Lottery winner. He looks like your nice middle manager boss after winning a surprise promotion to Managing Director, which is rather at odds with the far right image he has in the media. 

They are both, like Tugendhat, followed by a cadre of young men, tipsy smiles and bright eyes from their own self importance. To see them is to have confirmed that politics is a young man’s game, especially when a flutter of TM Lewin suits descend on the rare momentarily stationary and therefore defenceless Tory girls. Maybe that is why they make themselves seem too busy to be able to stop for even a moment. 

On the other hand, there cannot be any worse place than this to be a has-been. If your political star is descending, if your career has waned, it is laid painfully and publicly bare. While press and social climbers flood to the politicians on the rise, those out of the limelight (like Grant Shapps, now sauntering by me) are left unhastled. He smiles widely, ready to be caught in a photo that is never taken. His eyes dart in search of the media or party member about to intercept him, but when the target he has identified does not even acknowledge him and instead goes straight into Starbucks, it is not relief in his eyes but disappointment. 

How many political problems would be solved if people were better off in December than they had been in January? I’m no expert, but I’d argue that most would be. Ultimately, most people don't think about politics; they think about their own lives, their job, their family, friends, next holiday, Christmas - all of which are easier and happier with more money in your bank account. I have spent a fair chunk of this year without enough money and it makes the walls close in. You can't afford to go out to see friends, but you’re too ashamed to explain why or ask them to come to your place. You skip meals, you struggle to sleep. You realise just how little in life is free. The horizons of life narrow. You want to repay kindnesses and your inability to make you feel disgusted at yourself. If we eradicate this feeling for as many people as possible, voters would feel much happier and the general discontent would be minimised greatly.  

 

But, perhaps unsurprisingly for The Tony Blair Institute, there is a common belief that “the economy” isn’t just the sum of all our little and large economic activities. “The economy” is our businesses, our pubs, our decorators, and our bankers. It seems to me confused to think that we should continue to do the things that hamper businesses such as taxes and regulation and all that much talked about red tape - in fact, the answer on offer from the Tony Blair Institute seems to be to do more of it. If we unburden business it will grow, to do otherwise - no matter how well meaning or by inserting how many extra steps - is to unnecessarily complicate the route towards growth. 

The main hall looks like any old trade fair. There are stalls from energy companies, net zero vested interests, the leadership contenders, and a host of pressure groups and public affairs concerns. 

What makes a Conservative? It is the key question of the conference and the crowd assembled to hear the outcome of the polling of Conservative Party members offers its own answer to the question. There are Traditional Tories (white hair, blazers, gentlemen in ties, ladies in Theresa May cosplay), Country Conservatives (tweed, tattershall check shirts, corduroys), Political Players (business attire, taking notes), Urban Liberals (smart casual, sipping Starbucks, younger, looking concerned), and Provincial Patriots (a little older, a little fatter, only looking concerned when the Liberals look relieved). 

Whenever a speaker mentions Mrs Thatcher it elicits a pantomime cheer, while Burke and Disraeli are another way of pandering to the common ground of the crowd. Family, tolerance, patriotism - it is easy to get everyone to agree with this. Pragmatism and fairness are highlighted, harking back to Baldwin. But therein lies the problem: these are the fulcrums upon which Conservatives swing in both directions. Interference in the markets and economy can be pragmatic; fairness can mean the very same DEI policies that most people here would probably claim to loathe. When what it means to be a Conservative is set out in such platitudes, you have to ask whether Labour really see themselves as impractical or unfair - if not, then you need to work out a better definition. 

Next we are told that we don't just have rights, we have responsibilities; the state is a useful tool to manage the economy and promote fairness, but too much will stifle entrepreneurialism. That’s nice, but who disagrees other than the political fringes. Only the Communists and Libertarians would argue against that sentiment: the former, credit where it is due to the speaker, are indeed not Conservatives, but are we now excluding the latter? So much for the “broad church” of the Conservative Party. One cannot summarise a Conservative on much general terms without including pretty much every politically minded person in the country. Political alignment, conservatism or otherwise, are matters of degree on these buzzwords, just throwing them out there and leaving it so open to interpretation solves nothing. 

Whether said into a microphone or mentioned over a coffee, Thatcher’s name is everywhere. For those on stage, her name is usually invoked to get the crowd on side. Everyone wants to seem that they are fans, though less because of her philosophy or policies than due to her ability to win. Underlying everything is an assumption, a question, of whether there would only be 121 Conservative MPs if she had been in charge. If she had been the leader since the last election, certainly such a hash wouldn’t have been made, so many promises wouldn’t have been broken, so many un-Conservative policies wouldn’t have been implemented, and so much trust would not have been lost. If, on the other hand, she had only taken over when Rishi did, it is hard to assume she wouldn’t have lost too. Such a mountain of so many years of incompetence, ineptitude, inconsideration, and inarticulacy might be too much for even the Iron Lady to conquer. 

At a panel discussion hosted by the Institute of Economic Affairs, Lord Frost gives a passionate defence of liberty and even flourishes a prop copy of Hayek’s Road to Serfdom. Unfortunately, this is a more shrewd audience than he anticipated: they remember how Sajid Javid similarly wielded the prop of Ayn Rand as red meat to the classical liberals before proceeding to pursue the same centre-right policies as his predecessors. He fails to provide anything specific about how the size of the state could (or should) be rolled back, and that gap says more than anything else. The majority of Westminster Conservatives do seem to genuinely still believe in conservative, small stage, liberty loving, free market ideas. However perhaps their time in the establishment, perhaps their London liberal values, has made them unable or unwilling to see any way in which the state is less good at solving problems than individuals or markets. Hence, they can make the right noises but cannot identify any specifics because, ultimately, they cannot fathom how the public sector is not the best way to build houses, build roads, or provide healthcare. 

To my great pleasure, while I am scrawling the above retort, this sentiment is echoed by Christopher Snowdon, who sardonically points out that there is no meaningful difference between “I like the Nanny State and…” and “I don’t like the Nanny State but…”. There are just things it is better to do nothing about - it is easy (and cheap) to do nothing, and most countries do exactly that. We are, in fact, the outlier. For example, no other country is considering a generational tobacco ban or junk food advertising ban. We frame the discourse in a way that makes it seem like we’re all swimming in the same direction, but we are in fact like salmon, going upstream against the tide. While he says this, a member of the panel who looks like David Bowie scowles but nods reluctantly. 

The modern bureaucratic state is the enemy of all liberty - unless that is combatted, the Conservatives will end up in Government but not in power, as they were before. Reestablishing economic freedom as the norm must be at the centre of this. The longer the Conservatives are silent about this key factor (Hayek would be rolling in his grave, he might even decide to haunt those who take his name in vain) the more it becomes the norm to assume that government programs (and therefore public money) are the only ways to solve problems. The Conservatives will get nowhere if they don't challenge the zeitgeist of collectivism. Things will probably only get worse under Labour as they are not hampered by being the “party of individual freedom”, in fact, they are motivated to be in opposition to that. Interventionist policies might sometimes be popular in the polls, but are there really swing voters who choose the Tories over Labour, SNP, or Lib Dem because of them? 

Likewise, there is an obsessive focus on health at the expense of another part of wellbeing that is harder to calculate on a spreadsheet: allowing people to live the life they want to. The value of liberty for the sake of liberty has become a niche position to hold. Everything is now seen through the consequentialist lens. The value of freedom has become transactional on the cost to the public purse or the benefits to the economy. I note down that I should single handedly solve this, probably in the form of an essay (it’s really the only thing I am capable of). 

I rush from one corner of the Hyatt Hotel, through corridors, across an air bridge, more corridors, down one set of stairs and up another in order to get to a Centre for Policy Studies panel on what went wrong at the last election. The answer is clear: you can't break repeated and specific promises to tackle things like immigration and the NHS, while imposing an ever higher tax burden on voters, and expect to win. I suspect that will be too short and easy an answer for this discussion, though. 

Mel Stride, fresh from being unceremoniously dumped out of the leadership election, has the nasal tones and slow nod of a typical (and typically forgettable) modern politician. He says what the audience already knows, smattered with platitudes and A Level economics. He also reminds us again and again how many media rounds he did, both during the election and the plethora of crises beforehand. I can only assume he was wheeled out so frequently because forgettable is better than controversial. 

Danny Kruger doesn’t have a stereotypically posh accent (though he did go to Eton and his mother is Prue Leith), his is the accent of a rakish cad in a gentleman’s club thanks to a jaw that refuses to open wide enough to give his words the enunciation they need. His constituency of East Wiltshire includes Salisbury Plain and therefore has the highest number of soldiers of any constituency. Representing them has worn off on him as he has assumed the posture and delivery of an officer. He speaks less than the rest of the panel and comes across as more intelligent for it. 

Ben Houchen sits back, relaxed, an occasional squint is the only reaction to the other speakers. He has a charming, intelligent, hard to place Northern accent and arrived fashionably late. Although he participates the most, interjecting his thoughts, he still has the air of someone who would rather be somewhere else. I don’t entirely blame him, after all, he won a mayoral re-election, he is the only Conservative who can't be said to have lost this year. Policy is perhaps too impractical for his liking, too ethereal, especially in opposition. He’s funny too, throws red meat, and is evidence that it is the majority of Tories (who are posh, strange, intense, or all three and therefore nothing like him) who are the greatest barrier to Tory success. 

Rachel Wolf  isn't a politician so has the most fun role, free to lay into what the party has done and what it has failed to do - which is most things. Despite this, she is the most slouched, reminiscent of a moody friend who wanted to leave the lecture for somewhere more fun a long time ago. Her arms are always either folded tightly or holding onto her chair, shoulders hunched like a teenager in a boring lesson. As an ex-teacher myself, it is a body language I am very familiar with, usually from the pupils in my own class. 

At its heart is the same problem that has nipped at skulked in the shadows of every lecture, conversation, and panel today: what are the Conservatives selling? At the moment it is all parts and no whole, a policy here and there, but no philosophy. Policies should be the physical manifestations of a deeper set of values, like symptoms of a disease. For years now the Conservatives have had nothing deeper going on intellectually, they just offer policies that are too frequently not connected or even outright contradictory. People like predictability, when you know what a party stands for you can guess what policies they will enact - the public lost that ability when it came to the Conservatives. In trying to broaden their appeal they lost who they are, and that loses votes. 

Sadly I am not on stage to give my excellent and insightful analysis, so the rest of the audience will have to make do with Houchen who gives the pithier evaluation that people don’t vote on policies, it’s all about storytelling. 

Stride later asks how it is possible to get young people up in the morning and think “The Conservatives are the party for me, they will make my life better and wealthier”. This is, to me, a fundamental misunderstanding of normal people’s relationship with politics. Not even everyone in this room will wake up wondering which political party is best for them, let alone the wider population. Most people don't think about politics until a general election, and even then I doubt they frame it in this way. To have any success, they need to start thinking like normal people and less like political nerds. People have problems X, Y, and Z, and will wake up thinking about those problems. Maybe one of them is something they think the Government is in a position to help with. The question then is “do they understand my problem, and do I trust them to solve it?” Until a party can start talking in those terms, and persuading people that they are right, they’ll never get anywhere. 

By the time the hour is up, to neither my surprise nor, as far as I can tell, anyone else’s, the discussion did not touch on the elephant in the room: that the right things were promised in 2019 and then the Tories failed to deliver on any of them. That is what went wrong, and no hand wringing about media rounds or who should have been leader can confront the ultimate truth that vast swathes of the electorate felt let down at best, or lied to at worst. 

It is getting late and I am getting hungry. The least awkward place to eat alone is, by a distance, Subway, so I head there. Subway is the great leveller: young and old, male and female, members, MSPs, staffers, and press all shuffle along the snaking queue before making rushed and often regretted choices. Everyone gets receipts because everyone is expensing this quick fuel before they get onto the free drinks. Someone, somewhere, is paying for all this - what dark influence is funding all these sandwiches? I shall endeavour to find out as I continue my investigation into the night.