
Judging by his Telegraph article, Tory leadership candidate Robert Jenrick is a thoughtful and well-meaning young man.
He answered the question in the title above by listing 10 propositions circumscribing conservatism with its core values, and it’s hard to argue against a single one. Mr Jenrick enumerated all the good things in life, and I was mentally ticking each point as I read.
“The nation state is fundamental” – tick, with a few minor reservations mainly dealing with Britain’s past as an empire.
“Our people and Parliament are sovereign” – tick, this time with no reservations.
“Market economics drive growth” – couldn’t agree more, a big fat tick.
“The NHS is a public service. We must make it deliver” – tick, true on both counts.
Of course, one could argue that this bloated nationalised Leviathan, like any other such socialist concern, is bound to serve itself more than the public and hence can’t possibly “deliver”. But a young politician on the rise can’t afford to make such an argument if he hopes to remain any kind of politician, never mind one on the rise. The NHS has to remain sacrosanct, the British people will insist on it.
“Mass migration must end” – hear, hear. This tick spreads over half a page.
“We need a small state that works, not a big state that fails” – another enthusiastic tick. Abhorrence of a big omnipotent state is fundamental to conservatism.
“We are a national party, serving the whole country” – tick. If a party serves strictly parochial interests, it’ll never gain power.
“Prison works” – it most definitely does, so another tick goes on.
“Promote national unity” – certainly beats promoting either national disunity or vapid cultural globalism. Tick.
“Peace comes through strength” – an argument for strong defence, and I almost broke my pencil putting yet another tick in.
When I got to the end of the article, I realised I’d happily put my own signature underneath it, even at the risk of being accused of plagiarism. And I’m sure I’m not the only one.
Any like-minded American would happily endorse every point, mutatis mutandis. So would any Frenchman. So would any Pole. So would any Finn. Mr Jenrick covered the ground perfectly, explaining what it means to be a conservative qua conservative. That’s the trouble.
Where he is woefully remiss is in failing to explain what it means to be a specifically British conservative. That makes his eloquent argument for the British nation state fall a bit flat. If such a state will be no different from the US, France, Poland or Finland, what’s so special about it?
If, however, Mr Jenrick insists on British national particularism, as he should, then we also have to expect that our conservatism must differ somewhat from other nations’. We may all share all those good things he mentions but, if there are no points of difference, one struggles to understand what it is that makes Britain unique.
And if she isn’t unique, then why can’t we just link arms with conservatives everywhere and create a sort of Conservative International sans frontières? Let’s call it the ECU or even the UCN, with the ‘C’ standing for ‘Conservative’?
Mr Jenrick is clearly and commendably opposed to post-Enlightenment universalism, whose ideals are encapsulated in the oxymoronic triad of liberté, égalité, fraternité (it’s oxymoronic because the middle element invalidates the other two). But British conservatism has its own triad, and its three elements are harmonically linked: God, king and country.
The problem with Mr Jenrick’s cogent and well-argued list is that it covers only the third element of the triad. Neither God nor King gets a mention. I had to read his piece twice, looking for words like ‘Christianity’ or ‘monarchy’ and not finding them.
That makes me wonder if Mr Jenrick is a closet republican or else an aspiring American – after all, every one of his 10 points would be just as valid in any republic, and certainly in the US (minus perhaps the NHS, but give Kamala time).
Any conservative is etymologically obligated to decide what it is that he’d like to conserve. This question can’t be answered without first understanding the country’s essence, its founding metaphysical – and hence constitutional – core.
This is what must be lovingly preserved come what may, whatever physical changes the country must undergo at any point in history. And unlike any republic, Britain is and has been for centuries a constitutional, anointed monarchy with an established religion.
Neither may mean much to today’s youngsters, but someone ought to explain to them that without this Britain wouldn’t be Britain in any other than the strictly geographical sense.
One doesn’t have to be a devout Christian or, for that matter, a fire-eating monarchist to identify this as the metaphysical core of the nation – and to be passionately committed to preserving this core, defending it against all faddish encroachments.
But one does have to be a British conservative to understand Britain this way. Conversely, no one whose idea of conservatism omits the country’s metaphysical essence can be legitimately described as a British conservative.
He can, however, be many other laudable things, such as a thoughtful and well-meaning young man that Mr Jenrick clearly is. He should perhaps devote a bit more thought to the meaning of British conservatism, but that may be no longer necessary for a hands-on politician.
On balance, the Tory Party could do a lot worse than elect him as its leader. In fact, it has been doing a lot worse for decades now.
But an old reactionary like me must be forgiven for grumbling that, even if the best candidates the Tories can put forth don’t really understand what British conservatism is, conservatism is dead. If so, I mourn its passage.