Skip to main content

Don't write off The Saj. He's fighting a different battle.


There are two battles being fought in the Tory Party right now.

The first is the obvious one, which is over the Conservatives’ stance on the UK’s exit from the EU. With Farage riding high in the polls, the dynamic is clearly towards the election of a hard Brexiter, who is prepared to countenance a no-deal departure. That’s why it’s hard to see anything other than a Boris premiership, despite the Old Etonian’s obvious unsuitability for the role.

Other candidates – Dominic Raab and Esther McVey, for example – have vowed to be just as tough with Brussels. We then see a spectrum of opinion and rhetoric, which stretches all the way to the fairly sensible, if skeletal, figure of Rory Stewart, who is presumed to have little chance among the Tory faithful.

The other battle, in many ways, is the more interesting one. It’s over the long-term future of British conservatism beyond Brexit.

This debate is understandably somewhat lost amid the current sense of intrigue and crisis, but it is there nevertheless. It’s a contest over ideology and class and representativeness. And that’s why the candidacy of Sajid Javid is so interesting.

The Saj has gained little momentum and is unlikely to emerge triumphant on this occasion, but may well hope to pick up the pieces if the Conservative Party is annihilated through Brexit and Johnson’s incompetence.

Javid’s back story is well documented. The first Home Secretary to hail from an ethnic minority background, he comes from humble beginnings in a crime-ridden part of Bristol. Indeed, his daily victuals were not served from a Bullingdon Club silver spoon and he can claim to be a genuinely self-made man.

Why does this matter? Javid is a clever operator and much more in touch with the culture of modern Britain than many of his privileged or aristocratic rivals. Intriguingly, he won the backing of Ruth Davidson, the fiery Scottish politician whose own leadership potential is undermined only by the lack of a seat in the Westminster Parliament.

Javid is an heir to Margaret Thatcher and the hard-nosed, meritocratic ideology she espoused in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Every year, according to reports, he ritually re-reads a classic scene from The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand, in which Howard Roark extols the virtues of individualism.

If the Conservative Party is ever to rise Phoenix-like from the ashes of the Brexit debacle, it will not be thanks to the patricians, but because they have been usurped by champions of the aspiring working and middle classes.

While in 2019, with Europe so dominant in our national discourse, it’s probably obvious to the Saj that it is not his time, but he won’t be too worried. He may sense that a fresh start – built from the ruins of defeat – is not going to be too far away.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

After more than 30 years, I leave Labour at 11.46am tomorrow.

Barring some kind of minor miracle - on a par perhaps with CETI announcing first contact with the Vulcans or the Great British Bake Off returning to the BBC – Jeremy Corbyn will be re-elected on Saturday as Leader of the Labour Party. The announcement is due at around 11.45 am. So after three decades or so of membership, my association with the party will end at 11.46. Yes, that’s all folks.  I’m afraid I really do mean it this time.  Party card in the shredder.  Standing order cancelled.  It’s goodnight from me. And it’s goodnight Vienna from Labour.  I threatened to quit when the Jezster was first elected, but people persuaded me to stay on in the hope that the situation could be rescued.  I wanted to go when Angela Eagle was unceremoniously dumped in favour of Owen Smith, but was told I couldn’t desert at such a critical moment and should rally behind the PLP’s chosen challenger. Stay and fight, my friends say.  But over what?  The burnt-out shell o

Time for Red Ken to head into the sunset

Voice for 2012: Oona best represents modern Londoners Pin there, done that: Livingstone's campaign is a throwback to the 1980s Ken Livingstone may have lost his grip on power, but he hasn’t lost his chutzpah. The former London mayor was full of chirpy bluster a week ago in Southall, west London, when I popped over to listen to him debate with his rival for the current Labour nomination, Oona King. The contrast between two candidates couldn’t be more striking. Oona is chic, whereas Ken is pure cheek. She talks passionately about the threat posed by gang warfare which currently divides kids in her East London neighbourhood, while he waxes nostalgically about his working-class childhood in post-war council housing. It’s clear that Livingstone has been cryogenically preserved and then defrosted. The only question is when exactly the wily old geezer was put in the freezer. The mid-1980s would be a fair bet, which is when I remember him on a stage in Jubilee Gardens on the south bank

The friends, the facilitators and the failures. They now owe us all an apology.

I keep hearing Corbyn’s tenure referred to as an experiment. But how many experiments continue for four years, despite a toxic chemical haze billowing out of the mad inventor’s lab? The hard-left project should have been stopped in its tracks countless times.  As far back as 2015, Joe Haines – Harold Wilson’s Press Secretary – suggested that the Parliamentary Labour Party should make a unilateral declaration of independence. They could have appointed their own leader in Parliament and bypassed the socialist relic the members had chosen to elect. Instead, they prevaricated. They agonised. They muttered to each other in corridor recesses at Westminster. The frightened bunnies were at first bemused and disoriented, allowing Corbyn and his cabal to consolidate their position. And subsequently, they were frightened. Mainly frightened of the swollen membership of three-quid flotsam and jetsam who had invaded their constituencies pledging allegiance to the sage of the allotments