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Touchy Feely
The Tories might be reporting 16,000 new members since David Cameron won the party's leadership, but Britain's 270,000 other card-carrying Conservatives may be wondering what the hell they voted for a month ago.
Perhaps Cameron's election was a drastic seasonal version of beer goggles. You know the story: A few drinks down, and people you wouldn't previously consider suddenly appear extremely attractive. You wake up the following morning beside a snoring water buffalo.
It's a pattern of behaviour said to be born of desperation, and let's face it, Britain's Tories have been a fairly desperate bunch in the past few decade.
Not that EURSOC would compare the telegenic Mr Cameron to a water buffalo, but we reckon that the Tories have been sold a pup in this contest. He charmed the BBC and the left-wing press, to be sure, and he's working on the NGOs and the greens - but since when have these groups been natural Tory supporters? Those 16,000 new Conservatives surely aren't coming from the Guardian and environmental protest groups.
Besides, Cameron is fooling himself if he thinks that any amount of charm will make the BBC sympathetic to his party: They're the Conservatives, for goodness' sake. No-one in the left-wing media likes them, and they're not meant to care. Indeed, real Tories are meant to reciprocate the loathing by indulging in the ancient blood sport of Beeb-Bashing. Or will the new leader outlaw this?
Perhaps the Conservatives have fallen into the trap of allowing their enemies to pick their leaders for them. The press and broadcasting media were almost unanimous in their admiration for David Cameron. One can't wholly blame Conservative members for enjoying positive coverage of one of their MPs (for once), but they can't have been so dazzled as to forget one of the golden rules of British Toryism: If it receives favourable coverage from the BBC, the Guardian or the Independent, it must be treated with the utmost suspicion.
It seems that Cameron is determined to make his party's rebirth as difficult as possible for traditionalists. Is he looking for a "Clause Four Moment?"
Some recent statements seem calculated to alienate old-school Tories, such as his call for police reform and his invitation to Sir Bob Geldof to advise on foreign aid.
Most traditional Tories would be happy to see the police reformed if that reform was in a rightwards direction and allowed them to clobber troublemakers and collar villains with more ease. Sadly, Cameron's plans for the coppers are probably aimed more at pleasing those people who read the Guardian's Society supplement than the flogging enthusiasts among Tory ranks.
Equally, many Conservatives believed that Cameron's pre-election call to pull British Conservatives out of the Euro-fanatic federalist EPP-ED grouping in the European parliament signalled a more realistic approach to the party's relations with Europe. Once elected, however, Cameron paid attention to the bleats of Tory MEPs who feared losing cosy positions in the EPP ranks, not to mention columnists in pro-EU newspapers who warned that any withdrawl from the centre-right grouping would be interpreted as an act of anti-European extremism.
The proposal was swiftly kicked into the long grass.
He has also made much of his environmentalist credentials, cycling around London and commissioning a fashionable architect to convert his new house into an eco-friendly dwelling. There is much to be said for making concern for the environment a Conservative issue - after all, conservatives by nature should respond passionately to the threat posed to Britain's countryside by developers.
Unfortunately, the environmental movement has become dominated by anti-west, anti-liberal militants. One imagines there is a gap in the market for a conservative British environmentalism. However, Cameron looks more likely to pull in advisors from Greenpeace than develop a mainstream alternative.
Part of Cameron's appeal is said to be that no-one really knows what he stands for. The Economist reckons that's OK, as the new leader "has plenty of time to think up detailed policies, but very little time for him to grab the attention of uncommitted voters and persuade them to take a fresh look at a party many had given up on."
No-one really knew what Tony Blair stood for either, when he took over the Labour Party leadership in 1994. He appeared modern, reasonable and centrist - a little like David Cameron. But could he be trusted to change a party that for fifteen years had been anything but? He had to prove his credentials.
A year later, Blair persuaded the party - still smarting after a fourth successive election defeat at the hands of the Tories - to ditch its notorious Clause Four charter, which demanded the nationalisation of industry. No serious Labour politician believed that British industry should have been returned to state control in 1995, but the 77-year old clause had powerful symbolic resonance for Labour MPs and activists.
In some ways, the removal of Clause Four was a straw man, but Blair was seen to have taken on party dinosaurs and trade union godfathers, many of whom had conspired to turn Labour into an unelectable fringe in the 1980s.
Cameron doesn't have Clause Four to abolish, but as he has proved, upsetting party traditionalists by appealling to the predjudices of London media types can be an effective weapon in winning mainstream support.
The difference is that in 1994 and 1995, the media was urging Blair to defeat opponents in his party, but then to go on to slay the Conservative Party. Cameron's supporters in the media want to see him triumph over party traditionalists, but once a general election looms, they'll return to default settings and back Gordon Brown.
