The writer is a Conservative MP and a biographer of Edmund Burke
On Monday morning, I found myself in a very awkward position to publish a letter of no confidence in Prime Minister Boris Johnson, a man I have known and liked for more than 40 years.
My objections are not limited to the recent partygate scandals, but to a much wider range of serious concerns, including policy, the approach to government and the treatment of the British Constitution. All are at odds with decent, proper conservatism.
In a vote of confidence tonight, Johnson narrowly survived. By the middle of the week, it became clear that far from overcoming these fears, he intended to double, indulging in an almost atavistic urge to provoke cultural wars.
How did this come about? After all, there is a fine line between the popular and the populist, and we have never lacked prime ministers ready to step on it: Disraeli, Palmerston, Lloyd George. But it feels different.
The desire or need for virtuous leaders has been a hot topic of debate in Britain since at least the 18th century. In an effort to break the power of Walpole and the Whigs, in 1738 Viscount Bolingbroke praised the merits of the “patriot king”, whose ambition was to stand above factional politics.
Thirty years later, the genius of Edmund Burke had to turn the faction’s previous rebellious language into an understanding of political parties inspired by well-known and declared principles of governance. This could cool people’s passions – and perhaps even completely eliminate the need for charismatic political leadership.
But at the same time, the ancient idea has re-emerged that a well-functioning political system should not rely on the character of virtuous leaders, and perhaps even be immune to this requirement. David Hume writes about “civilized monarchies.” . . that they are a government of laws, not of people. ”
This last phrase was then taken up by John Adams and became the leitmotif of the American founding fathers. As described later, the US Constitution must be a “machine that will work on its own”, a smoothly functioning system of gears and gears that simultaneously embed, express and control the passions of the population in a system of inspections and balances.
In Britain, this has always been a vain hope and perhaps wrong. On the contrary, British politics has long been subject to what Peter Hennessy called the “good man’s” theory of governance. The effective functioning of the constitution relies on leaders who, if not exactly virtuous, will respect and abide by the thicket of unwritten norms, rules, and conventions that surround them.
Of course, this is a shamelessly narrow, conservative and in some ways elite approach to government. But it turned out to be remarkably sustainable and effective. Even a well-known mountebank such as David Lloyd George proved to be an extremely effective military leader: he devoted his energy to an extremely important public goal, but within a recognized and established constitutional framework.
Strange as it may seem, although it has rarely been recognized, the theory of the “good friend” also applies in the more legally legitimate American republic. Even charismatic leaders like Teddy Roosevelt generally followed the rules. Donald Trump’s refusal to recognize the outcome of the last presidential election should have revealed a crucial fragility in the US system.
This, in turn, underscores what is so different about the current UK administration. It is as if the Prime Minister and some of his senior colleagues have declared themselves exempt from the duties of the theory of the good man, but without any validating broader mission or goal. Individualism in government is purified of all connection with local, social, greater public interest and exists only in the dilution of its own vanity.
Yet the whole point of politics – and perhaps especially conservative politics – is to use power in the service of vital and sustainable political principles.
Then what needs to be done? This moment will pass; we must use it to rethink the basis of proper 21st century conservatism. This begins with the great thinkers Aristotle, Burke, Adam Smith, Hegel, Oakshot. But he will have to commit to the great challenges of our time: climate, race, inequality, war and peace, the balance between generations.
It must also look for ways to strengthen the apparently diminishing power of our political and constitutional norms, both inside and outside parliament.
Fortunately, one of its fruits will be a renewed public understanding of the best of our civic values and our history. True leadership from a future occupant at number 10 would help.
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