They call it ‘national conservatism’ but it’s a
divisive, far-right movement. Why are Tories embracing it?
John Harris
High-ranking government members hope to make political
capital out of their own failures. Labour must reject this cynicism
Sun 30 Apr
2023 13.51 BST
In a
fortnight’s time, a remarkable two-day political conference is going to be
happening in central London. The people speaking in its debates and discussions
come almost entirely from the political right: they will include the home
secretary, Suella Braverman, her cabinet colleague Michael Gove, and a host of
voices from media outlets such as the Daily Telegraph and GB News.
What will
sit at the heart of proceedings, says the event’s official blurb, are “the idea
of the nation” and “the revival of the unique national traditions that alone
have the power to bind a people together and bring about their flourishing”.
The foes and bugbears that will be decried include “political theories grounded
in race”, and “a powerful new Marxism”.
The banner
under which everyone is coming together was conceived in the US, and in the
context of recent(ish) European history it may have a somewhat unsettling ring.
But there it is: the people who will be addressing audiences at the Emmanuel
Centre in Westminster between 15 and 17 May are seemingly happy to endorse the
theory and practice of “national conservatism”.
The
international initiative its organisers shorthand as “NatCon” – which has
branches in the US, UK, Hungary and the Netherlands, and staged its first
London gathering four years ago – is an offshoot of the Edmund Burke
Foundation, an American thinktank-cum-pressure group founded in 2019. In June
last year, its prime movers published a stark statement of values, https://www.theamericanconservative.com/national-conservatism-a-statement-of-principles/
seemingly
designed to decisively turn the page on the economic liberalism propagated by
mainstream parties of the right since the 1980s, and develop the kind of
chaotic populism associated with figures such as Donald Trump and Boris Johnson
into something much more moralistic, and highly organised and codified.
National
conservatism, they say, is a movement that wants “a world of independent
nations”, societies centred on the traditional family (“built around a lifelong
bond between a man and a woman” and therefore spurning “ever more radical forms
of sexual licence and experimentation”), and a big official role for
Christianity (“which should be honoured by the state and other institutions
both public and private”).
It also has
a deeply defensive view of what constitutes national communities and how to
sustain them, which leads on to one of the new credo’s defining features: its
main advocates say they reject racism, but also claim that modern immigration
“has become a source of weakness and instability”, and that countries may need
to go as far as imposing complete moratoriums.
The plain
fact that high-ranking members of the government – as well as Tories such as
Jacob Rees-Mogg and the leading Brexiter David Frost – are more than happy to
be associated with all this might seem concerning, to say the least. But the
intersection between national conservatism and the Tory mainstream is actually
well advanced.
If you
understand it as a mixture of authoritarianism, nostalgia and an insistence
that immigration somehow threatens to corrode countries’ very idea of
themselves, two things become instantly clear: its long history as an enduring
facet of the Tories’ collective soul; and its recent spectacular revival,
triggered by our exit from the EU, supported by networks of influencers in both
the old and the new media, and now centred on Braverman’s Home Office. In a
British context, you might think of NatCon as the spirit of that old Tory
ghoul, Enoch Powell, revived and updated for the age of Brexit and Twitter, and
now running rampant.
For proof,
consider the language the government is now using around immigration.
Relatively recently, the arguments Tory high-ups used when they were making the
case for new restrictions mostly focused on questions about resources: crudely
put, whether an already strained state and social fabric could cope with large
numbers of new arrivals. Now, their case has as much to do with things that are
usually summed up in the word “values”, thinly concealing a tangle of ideas
about culture and nationhood that appear to have much more sinister echoes.
Last week,
the Home Office minister Robert Jenrick gave a speech at the Policy Exchange
thinktank, scattered with sentiments apparently copied straight from NatCon
texts. Conservatives, he said, “should not shy away from their belief that the
nation has a right to preserve itself”, nor from the insistence that
“excessive, uncontrolled migration threatens to cannibalise the compassion of
the British public”. As usual, such words as “excessive”, “uncontrolled” and
“illegal” were mere fig leaves: as far as his message to the public was
concerned, the intention was seemingly to frame all immigration as a threat to
social stability and the integrity of the UK as a national community.
The people
trying to come to the UK in what politicians have styled “small boats”, he
said, “tend to have completely different lifestyles and values to those in the
UK”, that seems a toxic suggestion which is now an in-built part of the
government’s messaging. Via an evidence-free association with crime, Braverman
also says the attitudes and behaviour of those crossing the Channel are “at
odds” with British values, much the same rhetorical device she used in her
recent attacks on British-Pakistani men.
From there,
it is only the smallest of leaps to the kind of arguments Powell used in his
notorious “rivers of blood” speech, when he said that immigration from the
Commonwealth suggested “a nation busily engaged in heaping up its own funeral
pyre”. In response, the Tory leader Ted Heath sacked him from the shadow
cabinet; now, by contrast, neo-Powellism grips the party, and may only be an
election defeat away from seizing complete control.
There are
obvious reasons for that: a lot of Tories’ deep beliefs, coupled with a cynical
sense that embracing NatCon-style ideas may magically allow them to make
political capital out of their own failures. Thirteen years of Conservative
government have created no end of insecurity, poverty and powerlessness – but
those things have also sown exactly the kind of resentments that national
conservatism trades on. Its inward-looking hostility to “globalism”, moreover,
opens the way to pinning the failures of Brexit on hostile outside powers, and
thereby adapting the old habit of Tory flag-waving to a zeitgeist full of
paranoia and conspiracy theory.
In 2020,
tellingly enough, one of the guests of honour at a national conservatism
conference in Rome was the Hungarian prime minister, Viktor Orbán, the inventor
of “illiberal democracy”. When he sat for an onstage interview, what was
striking was not so much his answers as the questions that preceded them.
“There are many people at this conference who would like to build a movement, a
party, to make as much difference in their countries as you have,” gushed
Christopher DeMuth, a high-profile American conservative who will also be the
London event’s presiding chair.
Here was
vivid proof of where this old yet new strand of politics is going, and
something Keir Starmer and his colleagues ought to quickly realise: that as its
divisive nastiness seeps into our politics, rather than nervously leaning into
national conservatism, they ought to ruthlessly expose it.
John Harris
is a Guardian columnist
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