How to kill our oldest political party

Boris Johnson, bloated Lazarus

William Hague once described the Conservatives as an absolute monarchy, moderated by regicide. In his memoirs, David Cameron went further, describing the party as being ‘interrupted by incredibly violent bouts’ of the killing of its crowned.

This is a key part of the Tories’ success over the years; the power of the party has always rested on its anti-sentimentality. Dispatching unpopular heads quickly, ruthlessly and without remorse prevents electoral liabilities from infecting the body with their sickness. In the Tory Party, loyalty has always played a poor second to viability.

But this aphorism, so well-beloved and well-used over the years, must now sadly be discarded. It is simply no longer true. The monarchy is certainly no longer absolute, and has not been for some time; over its last 14 years – which some feel may be its last 14 years – the party has been characterised more by factionalism than totalitarianism.

What could replace it? Perhaps a more accurate description is to call the Tory Party a self-annihilation machine, moderated by occasional bouts of extropy; an occasional pulse of adaption or energy – a Trussian experiment in growth, a brief crackdown on migration, the emergence of a genuinely right-wing figure – that may delay, but has yet to reverse, the irresistible death drive. But it never lasts. The party panics at its own vitality, as if startled by the prospect of change, and reverts.

Since the members have had a part in choosing the leader, they have consistently made poor choices. Some errors were forgivable: Iain Duncan Smith – isolated, uncertain, and fatally lacking authority – oversaw a grey, faltering interlude that the party was quick to erase. In many, they were simply not involved; Theresa May was an establishment compromise who governed in fear of the factions around her.

But time and again, the party has chosen figures who either reflect its worst tendencies or refuse to confront them. Johnson was chosen not in spite of his recklessness but because of it; Liz Truss, in a moment of confused yearning for ideology, and an invocation of the iron spectre that haunts the Conservative Party. It may be too early to say for Kemi Badenoch, but the omens are looking increasingly bleak. The self-annihilation machine does not change its design; it merely burns through components.

This is to say nothing of their often questionable decisions, which on reflection seem less like miscalculations and more like provocations. Despite the years of promises, there was a relentless commitment to increasing immigration, a demographic masochism pursued regardless of consequence; its developmental paralysis, a refusal to build the homes or infrastructure needed to sustain growth or stability. It also suffered from fiscal schizophrenia, underfunding services like the military and local councils before throwing billions at lockdown-era stimulus packages or energy bill giveaways. There was also its institutional cowardice, an unwillingness to confront the progressive capture of institutions or repeal Blairite monstrosities that undercut it; its strategic incompetence, an ability to deliver deindustrialisation and higher energy prices to meet Net Zero commitments but not the nuclear power needed to replace the coal stations it dynamited.

Some of these felt like the party was deliberately engineering a right-wing splintering. Now that split is tearing its way through the country, leaving us teetering, our feet unsteady, on the edge of a great turquoise chasm.

The answer, for some, is too incredible; Boris. Yes, ‘Boriswave’ Boris. That Boris.

Reading between the lines, he seems to believe that there some possibility of the ‘big dog’ saving the party. ‘Twas ever thus; Boris Johnson has always believed that Boris Johnson should be king. But surely only he alone could only be mad enough to suggest it? Yet the tribes are mustering, and the frontiersman can read the signs. Some have even begun to make their calls public.

The deepest betrayal of the last 14 years was our immigration failure. Every voter group believes this. Those whom we most rely on – loyal Tories and Reform defectors – feel it most of all. Boris, of all our leaders, is the most guilty for this. He found a fire already raging in the kitchen and turned on all the gas hobs. Under his leadership, net migration reached unprecedented levels, by both incompetence and design. Last year, of the last remaining four leadership candidates, each was distrusted by six in ten people when they talked about immigration. They were tainted by his reverse Midas touch, as was Rishi Sunak by his inability to deal with the fallout – a task he was, being cautious and without appetite for conflict, unsuited for.

It is, of course, true to say that right now Boris would make the Conservatives more popular than Reform. But things do not remain in statis; peripeteia is never far behind. He would be made to wear the chain he forged in office; how long could we expect his popularity to last, with the accusatory fingers of Nigel Farage and Keir Starmer levelled at the man who presided over Britain’s all-time high immigration levels? When they would take every opportunity to remind the electorate that before them stands not just the party, but the man responsible? The idea of reinstalling him is not just ludicrous, but given the scale of our immigration betrayal, it is obscene.

But let it be on the record: if Boris Johnson were to stand again, I would be almost certain to vote for him. Not because he deserves it, nor because he is the answer, but because he is the end. My vote would be cast on purely accelerationist grounds; any party with a thirst for annihilation so strong it is insane enough to resurrect him should have that thirst slaked. A Boris comeback would destroy us, and we would deserve it.

If the Tory Party is determined to die, then Boris may be its perfect gravedigger. Let the grave be dug, let the earth be thrown, and let no one weep. There is a grim mercy in letting things die when they have forgotten how to live. The self-annihilation machine may get what it has for so long desired. Perhaps it will die happy.