Peter Franklin is an Associate Editor of UnHerd.
Whoever wins in Makerfield this week, the Conservative Party must accept a difficult reality: we’ve been superseded on the Right by Reform.
The by-election result will only confirm what the polls and the local elections have already told us.
So that being the case, why not face up to the situation and join Reform?
As Kemi Badenoch put it the other day: “this country cannot have another leftwing government.” Indeed not, but if the right remains divided that is the likeliest outcome of the next general election — especially with Burnham giving Labour a second chance. And speaking of second chances let’s not forget that we had ours in 2019, when a Brexit-based realignment handed us our biggest majority since the days of Margaret Thatcher. We comprehensively blew that opportunity. The unspoken corollary to Badenoch’s warning is that this country also cannot have another Tory government like the last one.
The case for throwing in our lot with Nigel Farage is therefore hard to resist. On a personal note, I’d add that two of the people I most admire in politics — ConHome founder Tim Montgomerie and East Wiltshire MP Danny Kruger — have followed this logic to its natural conclusion. Why, then, haven’t I joined them?
Being a conservative Conservative I believe in conserving institutions. Depending on strict organisational definitions, ours may or may not be the world’s oldest political party, but it certainly has a good claim to being the world’s oldest political tradition. To turn my back on centuries of history for an outfit that didn’t even exist a decade ago just doesn’t sit right with me.
Reformers will complain that I’m not being fair and that their party can’t help being new, to which I’d reply: “My point, exactly. You’re proposing to take on the most challenging policy agenda of any government since 1979 — and all you’ve got is an untested political vehicle to do it.”
There’s a counter-argument that, with Britain in such peril, we should be willing to tolerate a degree of institutional discontinuity. Country before party and all that. I don’t doubt the fierce urgency of now, but that’s precisely why a small-r reformist government must have what was once termed “bottom”. The worst possible outcome of the next general election isn’t a centre-left coalition of chaos, but a Reform government that falls apart under the stresses of power. Nothing would do more to accelerate the rise of an election-winning movement of the far left — or, alternatively, our nation’s capitulation to the EU.
What makes me think that Reform might crack-up under pressure?
In a word, Farage.
Some people think that his party is a personality cult. But that gets it backwards. The real problem with Big Nige is that if he didn’t have such a firm grip on Reform, it would fall apart. As I’ve argued before he has no obvious successor, and should his position fall vacant there’s no knowing what would happen next. The fact that the second-most influential figure on the populist right is Rupert Lowe says a lot more about Reform UK than it does about Lowe’s party.
But let’s assume (and wish) that Nigel Farage, 62, stays firing on all cylinders for years to come. Would I have any fundamental problems with his leadership of the country in those circumstances?
I’m not that bothered by his lack of ministerial experience. Tony Blair didn’t have any before he became Prime minister and nor did Gordon Brown or Keir Starmer. Admittedly, those precedents aren’t entirely encouraging — but neither is that of Liz Truss, who had ten years as a minister before she got the top job. Rather, what really worries me about Farage is that like some ancient coelacanth he’s stopped evolving. Kemi Badenoch has visibly grown during her time as party leader, but Farage is much as he ever was. This isn’t a good thing.
The real prospect of power ought to change a man.
Hopefully, this would be for the better, but at the very least you’d expect the hand of history on one’s shoulder to leave some kind of impression. Not so with Nigel. He’s still, at heart, a commentator — more at home in the studios of GB News than in Parliament. He’s yet to deliver a single speech that could be described as philosophically stimulating, let alone profound. Love him or hate him, he never surprises us.
In the wake of the Henry Nowak case, he was unfairly accused of rabble-rousing, but — unlike Kemi Badenoch — he didn’t rise to the occasion either. Perhaps he’ll have the space to express himself more fully in his new Essays to Britain Substack. But ask yourself this: how likely is he to reach beyond the confines of the populist Right to persuade a wider section of the electorate to think again about what he’s got to offer? I fear the promised content is more about his ongoing grudge match with Rupert Lowe than building a foundation for a genuinely national government.
Of course, Farage can’t do everything himself. He needs a team around him capable of rounding-out the Reform offer. But where are they?
Last year’s party conference was a media circus at best — and a freak show at worst.
In February, there was another chance to show that the party is greater than the sum of its leader when the first four appointments to the Reform “shadow cabinet” were unveiled. But two of those (Robert Jenrick and Suella Braverman) were recent defectors from the Conservative Party. Perhaps due to internal resistance to additional refurbished Tories, we’re still waiting for further appointments — making this the longest reshuffle in British history. For instance, the foreign affairs and defence briefs are still unfilled — despite the burning urgency of national security issues. Never mind the competition from the Labour and Conservative front benches, back benchers like Al Carns and Tom Tugendhat have a more prominent voice on these matters than anyone from Reform. Then again, that’s probably for the best given the liability of Farage’s closeness to Donald Trump.
Across the full range of policy areas, it had been Farage’s plan to attract experienced spokesmen on key issues from outside of politics — a top team of doers not talkers. But, to date, the most notable appointment has been that of Simon Dudley — previously head of Homes England — and thus well-qualified to speak for Reform on housing issues. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before he had to go after some controversial remarks about the Grenfell disaster came to light.
Reform’s personnel deficit can be seen in the quality of its policy-making. To be fair, there are some examples of smart thinking — not least Danny Kruger’s work on reforming the machinery of government. The same cannot be said for the party’s new policy: exempting overtime pay from income tax. There are problems with this idea, but just consider the position of self-employed workers. Either they’d have to be excluded from the tax cut or an onerous state bureaucracy would be required to verify each self-reported claim of overtime. It’s all horribly half-baked.
Then there’s Reform’s all-time worst policy: a bonkers crusade to ban battery energy storage systems. No doubt this was meant to pull the rug out from under the renewables sector. But large scale battery storage is also essential for data centres and the AI industry. Maybe Reform want to make Britain an AI-free zone, which would be bold. If so, I think they ought to tell us.
Back in March I argued that Reform’s kill-the-Tories strategy is coming to a head. I suggested that it would fail because the local elections would not deliver the hoped for knock-out blow. And so it’s come to pass. Unlike 2025, there’s been no collapse in our poll ratings. It’s hardly a recovery, but we’ve survived — and now it’s Reform’s turn to accept reality.