Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Reactionary conservatism has been a feature of Britain’s parliamentary politics for several
centuries. Fundamentally relational, in so far as it is bound up with and defined by the position
adopted by moderate and pragmatic politicians on the right, it is striking that this dynamic has
nevertheless exhibited enduring preoccupations with nativism and xenophobia, the political and
moral corruption of progressive politicians, great power status, and the unreliability of their own
party leaders. Throughout, these have often been expressed in doom-laden prognostications
which reveal an inherent defensiveness and paranoia. If this suggests continuity then it is worth
to change found in most societies, and ‘conservatism’, which, although tied to traditionalism,
articulated an aspiration on the part of its proponents to locate themselves politically in the
course of profound social, economic and political change.1 His dichotomy is not simply another
expression of the binary division outlined in the Introduction, between positional and doctrinaire
conservatism, as it applies to both of these. Old Tories, Ultra Tories, ditchers, and diehard
Conservatives alike might have invoked the notion that they stood for conservative principles,
but the articulation of what this meant in practice was inevitably bound up with and changed
The key elements of Ultra politics, its protestant constitutionalism, patriotism, pastoralism,
protectionism and philanthropy, changed considerably in meaning and varying intensity in the
hands of later generations on the Conservative Right. Even something as specific as anti-
Semitism, a seemingly abiding feature—in old Tory, Ultra, empire first Unionist and diehard
1Colin Loader, The Intellectual Development of Karl Mannheim: Culture, Politics, and Planning (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1985), p. 78.
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socialism and communism in the twentieth. This applies also to the hostility towards democracy
which is a prominent characteristic of reactionary conservatism from its emergence, and which in
certain forms has survived through to the present day. Whereas most Ultras were reluctant to
utilise democratic forces against democracy, diehard MPs in the twentieth century relied almost
completely on such tactics to make their influence felt in the Conservative party. Anglican
exclusivism could not survive this transition, at least as the means of embodying and rallying
elements committed to Conservative principles, and so from the last quarter of the nineteenth
century the union and overseas empire increasingly stood in its stead. The defence of property
remained a marked feature throughout, yet it too underwent significant change in response to the
growth of democracy, from Ultra hostility to the bourgeoisie and its political pretensions, to
actively working together with the middle class in opposition to ‘socialism’, even to the extent of
If anything, the substantive continuities between Ultra and diehard politics are
overwhelmingly negative: the inability of both to offer a viable prospect or programme for
government; and related to this, their lack of any suitable leader of national standing. The Ultras
and the diehards alike were reluctant and unable to articulate a coherent and distinct political
philosophy, viewing their roles as ultimately subordinate to the very same front bench they held
in suspicion. What came closest to this, the spontaneous, aggressive right-wing journalism
practised by the likes of Henry Bate Dudley in the early nineteenth century, and that of Leopold
Maxse and Howell Gwynne a century later, was greeted with indifference by ministerial opinion
and a measure of wariness by otherwise sympathetic parliamentarians. The Ultras and the
diehards, therefore, were most identifiable by and visible in their acts of defiance, which tended
to cluster around certain highly sensitive issues, such as anti-Catholicism in the case of the
former, and for the latter, opposition to any measure deemed to weaken British imperial power
and prestige.
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The three distinct vectors of right-wing dissent within the Edwardian Unionist party, the
empire first Unionists, the legion of leagues, and the ditcher peers, were all attempts to articulate
approaches to conservatism which could meet the challenge of resurgent radicalism at home and
economic, imperial and military rivalry abroad. As Mannheim suggests, all were tied to
traditionalism, even if it was more explicit and existential in the case of the ditcher peers. This
seemingly pressing need to change certain modes of Conservative politics helps to explain the
overlapping personnel and ideas of the three vectors. These still remained distinct, however, as
they disagreed with one another on tactics and emphasis, even, for that matter, within their own
ranks. Collectively, they were a product of and contributor to the Edwardian ‘crisis of
conservatism’, but the differences between and amongst them ultimately weakened their
particular remedies. Yet, their capacity to whip up a party crisis was not without consequences. It
contributed to the removal of a party leader, Arthur Balfour, the more aggressive political style
of his successor, Andrew Bonar Law, and triggered the long overdue reform of the Unionist
party machine.
Against expectation, the political upheaval wrought by the First World War did not bring
about a more coherent and united Conservative Right. Crucial steps, nevertheless, were taken
along that road, in particular, the spontaneous establishment of backbench organisation. This
encouraged right-wing MPs to focus their activism in parliament and in co-ordination with other
backbenchers, rather than relying on applying pressure to ministers and MPs through external
leagues and associations. Increasingly vocal and willing to challenge their party leader directly,
and under the pretext of patriotic necessity, it had the effect of producing significant changes in
wartime government, from the establishment of a coalition in 1915 to the restructuring of that
coalition in favour of the Unionists the following year. These were not necessarily what the
government’s critics desired, but such changes were the result of the destabilising effects of
growing backbench influence. The responsiveness of the front bench produced two contrasting
reactions among right-wing discontents. For a majority, it demonstrated the utility of working
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within the Unionist parliamentary party. For a small minority, however, the restraining
consequences of this signalled the need for a breakaway National Party more committed to
The split amongst right-wingers over political strategy gradually healed in the years
coalition. The attendant risks of some sort of fusion between the two parties, and the
‘diehard’ reaction within the Unionist party that was committed to avoiding this outcome, and
which had a magnetic effect on erstwhile allies in the National Party. These diehards’ efforts also
struck a chord among Unionists in the voluntary party, creating alarm amongst the party
leadership about what it could mean in practice if left unchecked. It was this which ultimately
convinced important sections of the parliamentary party in 1922 to withdraw from the coalition
and return to the pre-war party system. Pursuing this outcome went a long way to promoting a
measure of unity on the right, symbolised by the abandonment of the National Party. But it was
also lent greater coherence and distinctiveness through a number of other questions. These
included the right-wing’s support for protectionism, particularly whole-hog food taxes, both for
the sake of imperial unity and for the depressed home agricultural sector, pronounced hostility to
government spending, and strident opposition to post-war imperial constitutional reform, which
drew upon and now explicitly included the delicate question of Great Britain’s relationship with
the Irish Free State. Rather than churchly affairs and parliamentary reform, which still mattered
to some high profile diehards, the epithet became more readily identified by contemporaries with
Having achieved this measure of unity and sense of purpose, the diehards had an ambiguous
relationship with inter-war parliamentary democracy, deeply hostile to the rise of Labour but still
willing and able to work within the constitutional bounds of Conservative party politics. The
indigenous forms of fascism which emerged in the 1920s were attractive to some; these were,
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after all, ultra-Conservative rather than fascist on continental lines, but the overwhelming
majority were convinced of the need to work within their own party. The resulting acquiescence
with Stanley Baldwin’s leadership was cultivated deliberately by the further development of
backbench organisation. This to some extent satisfied the diehards’ desire for an enhanced place
in party policymaking, but it also exposed them to the limited appeal of their viewpoint on the
backbenches. As a result, most of the diehards toed the line on domestic reforms, however
reluctantly, finding some satisfaction that Conservative policies were necessary and
fundamentally Conservative in intention. As a result, it became clear that subjects which had
once defined the Conservative Right no longer aroused the same level of concern and passion,
including the sanctity of monarchy, the protestant constitution, extending the franchise, and
defending the agricultural interest. In contrast, it was in Irish and imperial affairs, and to some
extant also in economic matters, that the diehards felt able to demonstrate to the wider party that
Conservative principles were under attack, from without and within. Rumblings about Irish
policy in the early- to mid-1920s hinted at what was to come a decade later over India, and
throughout the diehards were prominent in the campaign for greater imperial unity through
trade.
The spectacular series of party battles over India orchestrated by the diehards in the early
1930s proved to be the highpoint of their organisational capacity and common purpose.
Thereafter, they remained united on most imperial questions, in particular, opposing the
restitution of former German colonies, and were highly prominent in the rearmament campaign.
However, the broader policy of appeasing the Nazi government divided diehard ranks. For a
sizeable minority, Britain could only preserve its great power status by opposing German
aggrandisement in Europe. The majority, however, assumed that risking conflict with Germany,
even if Britain could emerge victorious, would exacerbate its weakness at home and abroad.
These contrasting positions were both grounded in peculiarly diehard readings of recent history.
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departure from the country’s decades old hostility to German territorial expansion. Supporters
believed that appeasement was rendered necessary because of years of weak Conservative
leadership and two Labour governments, the result of which left Britain unable and unwilling to
fight.
The Second World War and the Conservatives’ defeat at the 1945 general election brought to
a close the first phase in the development of the Conservative Right, by removing from the
House of Commons the generation of diehard MPs which included Henry Page Croft and John
Gretton. A small number of the younger generation survived, of course, and as the
Conservatives recovered electorally in the 1950s, they were joined by others in parliament, and
the constituency associations once again became a reliable prop in right-wing campaigns against
the front bench. Like the Edwardian inter-party conferences, the 1916−18 and 1918−22
coalitions, and the National Government, the post-1945 ‘political consensus’ provided a context
in which calls for a return to Conservative principles thrived. What this meant in practice
reflected very contemporary concerns, just as it did for previous generations of Tories, Ultras,
Unionists and Conservatives. Yet, as noted above, enduring themes remained, and in the case of
anxiety about national and imperial decline, and the accompanying rhetoric on race, in an
intensified form which left an indelible mark on late-modern British conservatism. Indeed, in the
late 1960s and early 1970s the Conservative Right achieved an unprecedented measure of
organisational unity and congruity, in the form of the Monday Club, only for it to decline just as
rapidly after succumbing to infighting and public controversy over links with the extreme right.
Even so, its preoccupations with Britain’s place in the world, non-white immigration, left-wing
disorder, moral and economic decline, all of which long predated the Monday Club, also
survived it, albeit below the surface for much of the 1970s and 1980s as the breakdown of the
post-war consensus, and the accompanying ascendancy of the ‘New Right’, brought a qualified
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measure of satisfaction to the imperialist Conservative Right.2 Thus incubated, these concerns
resurfaced with vigour at the turn of the twenty-first century, encouraged by three successive
general election defeats in a row, and expressed, very often, through strong resentment at the
United Kingdom’s continued membership of the European Union. It even led a sizable number
of Conservatives to join the first electorally significant challenger party on the right, the United
Conservative prime minister, David Cameron, was meant to arrest this development. Against
expectation, it brought about what is arguably the Conservative Right’s greatest triumph.
2See, Camilla Schofield, “A Nation or No Nation?’ Enoch Powell and Thatcherism’, in Ben Jackson and Robert
Saunders (eds), Making Thatcher’s Britain (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), pp. 95−110; Stephen
Howe, ‘Decolonisation and Imperial Aftershocks’, ibid., pp. 234−251.