Oliver Middleton is a member of the Conservative Party and former Labour PPC.
Let’s be honest: anyone who joins a political party, let alone chooses to campaign and stand for one, is odd.
I don’t mean that in a pejorative way – many of my best friends are members of political parties – but we are officially part of the one per cent. Unfortunately, not the one per cent we usually hear about – but one per cent of the population nonetheless who choose to become a member of the Conservative, Labour or Liberal Democrat parties.
I suspect I am now part of the 0.01 per cent, having been a member of the Labour Party and, as of July 5th this year, a fully paid-up and proud member of the Conservative Party.
This isn’t something I initially chose to shout about, but I did acknowledge it in passing, including in a couple of recent articles I wrote for ConservativeHome on other topics and when I was filmed chatting with Kemi Badenoch about my Labour background– so I wasn’t surprised when I received questions asking- how does one go from being a Labour parliamentary candidate to a member of the Conservative Party?
I first became involved in party politics at 17 years of age. I think I must be the only person in history inspired to do so partly by a 2012 Ed Miliband speech, another 0.001 per cent!
This was my first exposure to a number of the Labour left’s greatest hits, including how all our problems could be traced back to those nasty Tories and their capitalist pals, and, conversely, could be solved, not just by Labour, but by government because, in the leftist view of the world, there is no problem too great, too complex or even too small for government to address.
I was young and aspirational, but at the time, this tune resonated with my own experience of being raised by a single mother who was ill for much of my childhood, meaning we were reliant on welfare and free school meals. It provided a simple explanation for my situation. I signed up for the Labour Party shortly after and, within a year, was selected as a parliamentary candidate at age 18.
I am not going to claim I wasn’t a true believer during this time. I was. But even upon attending my first ever Labour Party meeting, I felt a little like an outsider. I was and still am in politics to get stuff done, but many local members seemed more interested in disrupting the livelihoods of Israeli farmers through motions boycotting their apples and oranges than any campaigning.
I also realised many of my colleagues weren’t particularly interested in winning elections; ideological purity was the currency of choice. So, when I started to push back on certain policy positions the local party was insisting on, such as free university for middle-class students, perhaps not being the best use of taxes, or that maybe we should be spending time campaigning in marginal seats rather than in Bath, my standing in the local party took a hit.
But there were other differences between me and many of my local Labour colleagues. I grew up, for the most part, with very little money. I am not sharing this because I want pity. I also know that in the Conservative Party, we don’t fetishise people’s backgrounds or let them colour our view of their character, for better or for worse. But in the same way, this was a factor in why, as a 17-year-old, I was attracted to socialism; it is a big part of why I am now a Conservative. Let me explain.
My mother – who died when I was 21 – drummed two values into me more than any others: hard work and self-belief. These same values, I believe, have enabled me to take full advantage of the opportunities I’ve had and to create them for myself, including landing a good job and making a half-decent fist of life.
However, my younger self – like many on the left – would’ve told you social mobility has much to do with government. But I can now see – partly based on my own experience, that defying the odds, however big or small, has far more to do with ‘aspiration.’ My mother understood this. I now know why she, more often than not, voted Conservative.
However, aspiration doesn’t emerge spontaneously. It requires something that only conservatives truly understand: personal responsibility. If you’re not willing to take ownership of your future or circumstances, no one else will do it for you and in many ways, no one else can. It’s recognition of this reality that separates conservatism from other political beliefs.
Conversely, what my time in the Labour Party taught me is the socialist worldview about outsourcing all responsibility to government, which is not only economically unsustainable and, of course, misunderstands how opportunity is created but is equivalent to saying, ‘This is someone else’s problem’ – from litter on the street to food poverty.
This doesn’t stop them complaining about it, but doing something? That’s someone else’s responsibility.
Is it any wonder that the number of people who volunteer, for example, has gone down nearly every year since the 1950s, with community trust declining in parallel?
I believe this worldview and the conflation between what the left sees as ‘collective responsibility’ and outsourcing responsibility, breed a less caring and compassionate attitude. No such things as society? Not as far as socialism is concerned.
I sometimes wonder if this attitude is what enabled so many ‘decent’ Labour people to remain in the party throughout Jeremy Corbyn’s time as leader – with many actively campaigning to make him Prime Minister.
I remain proud to have left, opting to support the Labour MPs who broke away from the party in 2019, a decision for me which was always primarily about calling out antisemitism. I rejoined Labour once Corbyn had left, convinced that the battle to rid Labour and the country of the hard left was once again an internal one. I was even asked to stand as a candidate again, which I briefly entertained, but there’s no doubt the spell had been broken.
On reflection, I, of course, should have left earlier than 2019 – but what many don’t understand about Labour – and you don’t until you’re in it – is it is tribal to the point of being cult-like. And once you turn your back on the cult, you become an outcast.
It is ironic in a way, given how often – especially when I resigned from the Labour Party in 2019 in protest over Corbyn – I have been called a ‘Tory’ by those on the left.
Perhaps they could see something I still couldn’t? In reality, they don’t know the meaning of the word. But for me, having learnt through personal experience that the things I maintain a steadfast belief in, such as social mobility and a more responsible society, all start with personal responsibility, I now understand what being a conservative means. And I am proud to be one.
Oliver Middleton is a member of the Conservative Party and former Labour PPC.
Let’s be honest: anyone who joins a political party, let alone chooses to campaign and stand for one, is odd.
I don’t mean that in a pejorative way – many of my best friends are members of political parties – but we are officially part of the one per cent. Unfortunately, not the one per cent we usually hear about – but one per cent of the population nonetheless who choose to become a member of the Conservative, Labour or Liberal Democrat parties.
I suspect I am now part of the 0.01 per cent, having been a member of the Labour Party and, as of July 5th this year, a fully paid-up and proud member of the Conservative Party.
This isn’t something I initially chose to shout about, but I did acknowledge it in passing, including in a couple of recent articles I wrote for ConservativeHome on other topics and when I was filmed chatting with Kemi Badenoch about my Labour background– so I wasn’t surprised when I received questions asking- how does one go from being a Labour parliamentary candidate to a member of the Conservative Party?
I first became involved in party politics at 17 years of age. I think I must be the only person in history inspired to do so partly by a 2012 Ed Miliband speech, another 0.001 per cent!
This was my first exposure to a number of the Labour left’s greatest hits, including how all our problems could be traced back to those nasty Tories and their capitalist pals, and, conversely, could be solved, not just by Labour, but by government because, in the leftist view of the world, there is no problem too great, too complex or even too small for government to address.
I was young and aspirational, but at the time, this tune resonated with my own experience of being raised by a single mother who was ill for much of my childhood, meaning we were reliant on welfare and free school meals. It provided a simple explanation for my situation. I signed up for the Labour Party shortly after and, within a year, was selected as a parliamentary candidate at age 18.
I am not going to claim I wasn’t a true believer during this time. I was. But even upon attending my first ever Labour Party meeting, I felt a little like an outsider. I was and still am in politics to get stuff done, but many local members seemed more interested in disrupting the livelihoods of Israeli farmers through motions boycotting their apples and oranges than any campaigning.
I also realised many of my colleagues weren’t particularly interested in winning elections; ideological purity was the currency of choice. So, when I started to push back on certain policy positions the local party was insisting on, such as free university for middle-class students, perhaps not being the best use of taxes, or that maybe we should be spending time campaigning in marginal seats rather than in Bath, my standing in the local party took a hit.
But there were other differences between me and many of my local Labour colleagues. I grew up, for the most part, with very little money. I am not sharing this because I want pity. I also know that in the Conservative Party, we don’t fetishise people’s backgrounds or let them colour our view of their character, for better or for worse. But in the same way, this was a factor in why, as a 17-year-old, I was attracted to socialism; it is a big part of why I am now a Conservative. Let me explain.
My mother – who died when I was 21 – drummed two values into me more than any others: hard work and self-belief. These same values, I believe, have enabled me to take full advantage of the opportunities I’ve had and to create them for myself, including landing a good job and making a half-decent fist of life.
However, my younger self – like many on the left – would’ve told you social mobility has much to do with government. But I can now see – partly based on my own experience, that defying the odds, however big or small, has far more to do with ‘aspiration.’ My mother understood this. I now know why she, more often than not, voted Conservative.
However, aspiration doesn’t emerge spontaneously. It requires something that only conservatives truly understand: personal responsibility. If you’re not willing to take ownership of your future or circumstances, no one else will do it for you and in many ways, no one else can. It’s recognition of this reality that separates conservatism from other political beliefs.
Conversely, what my time in the Labour Party taught me is the socialist worldview about outsourcing all responsibility to government, which is not only economically unsustainable and, of course, misunderstands how opportunity is created but is equivalent to saying, ‘This is someone else’s problem’ – from litter on the street to food poverty.
This doesn’t stop them complaining about it, but doing something? That’s someone else’s responsibility.
Is it any wonder that the number of people who volunteer, for example, has gone down nearly every year since the 1950s, with community trust declining in parallel?
I believe this worldview and the conflation between what the left sees as ‘collective responsibility’ and outsourcing responsibility, breed a less caring and compassionate attitude. No such things as society? Not as far as socialism is concerned.
I sometimes wonder if this attitude is what enabled so many ‘decent’ Labour people to remain in the party throughout Jeremy Corbyn’s time as leader – with many actively campaigning to make him Prime Minister.
I remain proud to have left, opting to support the Labour MPs who broke away from the party in 2019, a decision for me which was always primarily about calling out antisemitism. I rejoined Labour once Corbyn had left, convinced that the battle to rid Labour and the country of the hard left was once again an internal one. I was even asked to stand as a candidate again, which I briefly entertained, but there’s no doubt the spell had been broken.
On reflection, I, of course, should have left earlier than 2019 – but what many don’t understand about Labour – and you don’t until you’re in it – is it is tribal to the point of being cult-like. And once you turn your back on the cult, you become an outcast.
It is ironic in a way, given how often – especially when I resigned from the Labour Party in 2019 in protest over Corbyn – I have been called a ‘Tory’ by those on the left.
Perhaps they could see something I still couldn’t? In reality, they don’t know the meaning of the word. But for me, having learnt through personal experience that the things I maintain a steadfast belief in, such as social mobility and a more responsible society, all start with personal responsibility, I now understand what being a conservative means. And I am proud to be one.