Even by the standards of recent British political history, 2022 was chaotic and unedifying. We had six months watching Boris Johnson lose any remaining dignity in a bid to stay in power; a Tory leadership contest entirely divorced from reality; and then Liz Truss managing to alienate the public, the financial markets, her party and eventually her own cabinet in less time than it takes to get a GP appointment. In despair, the Tories have defaulted to Rishi Sunak, who has stabilised things in the style of an interim CEO coming in to manage a bankruptcy, without offering anything in the way of a positive agenda or vision. Given all that, it’s surprising they’re only 20 points down in the polls.
As ever in politics, it’s tempting to see this mess as the result of individual mistakes. Johnson defending Owen Paterson’s corruption or lying about illegal parties; Truss overcooking her budget and then doubling down on a tax cut message when traders were clearly spooked. But that would be to miss the bigger problem. The reason these mistakes were so costly is that this government is plagued by a profound incoherence. Its 2019 election victory was based on false promises that could never be kept. Brexit can’t “get done” because managing our relationship with the EU is an ongoing and complex process; immigration can’t come down because our economic model is built on it; public services can’t improve because they are suffering from a decade of austerity; houses can’t get built because older Conservative voters don’t want them.
Johnson managed to secure a big majority in 2019, helped a great deal by Jeremy Corbyn and Labour’s own divisions over Brexit, but he never had a clue what to do with it. In retrospect, Covid was politically helpful to him as it gave a structure to his first 18 months. Only twice did he fare decently in the polls: when the pandemic first struck, and he himself got seriously ill, and then during the successful vaccination rollout. Once the glow from that triumph wore off it was quickly apparent that he had no positive post-virus agenda. The vague concept of “levelling up” became a synecdoche for his leadership—something that could mean anything to anyone depending on their interests, so that it ultimately meant nothing. The hot mess of the “Levelling Up the United Kingdom” white paper was a fitting tribute.
It was this context—alongside Johnson’s increasingly obvious inability to tell the truth—that caused a series of scandals, beginning with Paterson, to be so acutely damaging. Had Tory MPs felt there was an important set of reforms worth defending, they might have rallied round Johnson—prime ministers have survived scandals in the past—but many of his colleagues were disillusioned with his lack of focus or achievements and so were not inclined to do so. He was left with a Praetorian Guard of low-grade followers who either idolised him or knew that their ministerial car was dependent on him.
This was also the context for the disastrous summer leadership contest. MPs, and the membership, were frustrated enough by the lack of direction to take a punt on Truss, who, despite campaign slip-ups and an absence of substantive achievements in cabinet, at least seemed to offer a passionate defence of Ladybird-book Thatcherism. Truss herself was left feeling she needed to rush into her programme at warp speed, given there were only two years left of the parliament with so little to show for it.
Of course, the fiasco of Truss’s month-and-a-bit at the top only made things worse and forced a retreat towards Sunak’s stolid pragmatism. But he is left in an almost impossible position. For a start, he has no time and no money. We are now only 18 months or so away from the 2024 summer recess that will mark the effective start of the next election campaign, with the poll itself likely to be in October. After two years of Johnsonian neglect followed by months of turmoil and rapid ministerial turnover, there is precious little time left to convince voters that this government has any purpose. There will be one more full session of parliament, so just one opportunity to present new legislation. Given the proximity to the election, the Lords will be able to block any legislation they want, as the government won’t have time to invoke the Parliament Act and sweep it through in the next parliamentary session.
There is precious little time left to convince voters that this government has any purpose
As for money, the combination of a global inflationary spike plus the UK-specific factors of Brexit and austerity have left us in a parlous state. The supposedly fiscally conservative Sunak has had to adopt debt rules far looser than anything we’ve seen in recent years. The Office for Budget Responsibility projects that we will still face a deficit of £70bn in 2027–28. If any other crisis hits, we’re in real trouble.
But even more than these problems, Sunak is trapped by the false promises of 2019. He cannot make any significant move towards improving relations with the EU for fear of his own parliamentary party. The merest suggestion in the Sunday Times that he was considering a “Swiss-style deal” led to paroxysms of rage from the right and Nigel Farage threatening a return to politics—even though Farage himself promoted the Swiss approach before the referendum.
Sunak can’t cut immigration because it’s the only supply-side driver of growth at the moment. Indeed, economic migration is likely to keep increasing. Nor can he stop channel crossings by asylum seekers, because there is no legal mechanism to do so, and the plan to deport them to Rwanda, were it found to be legal, will make no significant difference. So that rules out a campaign that focuses on social conservativism.
The rest of Truss’s supply-side agenda has had to be abandoned due to opposition from the Tories’ core voters. The Levelling Up and Regeneration Bill was delayed thanks to a backbench rebellion that would have led to fewer houses being built than at present. Even if the planning system let us build more, infrastructure investment is set to suffer, with capital spending being cut by £15bn by 2027–28. Meanwhile, the country faces dilapidated public services, massive worker shortages and outdated technology. You can’t reform public services for the better when doctors, teachers and police officers are struggling to keep their heads above water.
Political journalists like a change in narrative, so expect plenty of discussion in the run-up to the next election about how the Conservatives can turn things around and how they’re setting all sorts of clever traps for Labour. But the reality is they are caught in their own trap. Barring a dramatic implosion, Labour will form the next government—the only question is whether they have a majority and, if they do, how big it is. As with this year, the twists and turns of 2023 cannot be predicted in advance, but the slow death of this government can be.
Across Westminster, the political hive mind is turning to the question that will define the second half of the decade: if this government is dying, what will the new one do? Labour, despite its poll lead, is being extremely cautious. I’m told that the shadow chancellor, Rachel Reeves, is stopping her colleagues from making any spending pledges, while other policy announcements are sparse. Keir Starmer is focused on making trouble for the Tories by targeting the same pro-Brexit and anti-immigration voters they need. With the liberal vote more or less banked, they can range on to enemy territory.
These might be smart electoral tactics, but they are no plan for government. The real question for 2023 is not whether the Tories can recover but whether Labour grows in confidence and starts setting out a substantive agenda. The alternative is that Starmer’s party, too, is preparing to win on a false prospectus.
