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British voters are revolting. Next month’s general election is likely to deliver the coup de grâce to a two-party political system that has existed for almost a century. Why Britons are so disenchanted with their political class is a matter of much debate, but sublimated beneath it is a single, general annoyance: Britain’s party leaders are just too young.
For almost a century, British politics, like those of the United States, were a two-horse race. After 1922, power alternated between the leftish Labour party (Clement Attlee, Tony Blair) and the right-leaning Conservatives (the “Tories” of Winston Churchill, Margaret Thatcher). Five years ago this binary system began to show signs of distress. That year, the 43-year-old Prime Minister David Cameron became Britain’s youngest prime minister in almost 200 years.
His sidekick George Osborne, who took over the economy as chancellor of the exchequer, was even younger, at just 38. Their election victory was a marginal one; the Tories lacked a parliamentary majority. They patched this up with the Liberal Democrats, perennial also-rans led by the equally youthful Nick Clegg, 43. Clegg became deputy prime minister in the coalition government.
Despite losing only narrowly, the Labour party also opted for youth. That year, it elected the 40-year-old Ed Miliband as party leader. The most powerful posts in the land were now occupied by men barely older Ryan Giggs, a tricky footballer who was still darting up and down Manchester United’s left wing. The fortunes of one family illustrated the speed of this generational shift.
Readers with long memories may remember Douglas Hurd, Britain’s foreign secretary of the early 1990s. White-haired and bespectacled, his appearance was entirely typical of Cabinet ministers of the time. Hurd’s ministerial career began at the age of 49, and wrapped up when he was 65; a normal retirement age for men in the UK.
His son Nick, by contrast, became a minister in Cameron’s government aged just 38. He lost his job four years later. Nick Hurd’s ministerial career ended at the same age his father’s began.
This generational shift has attracted little comment in the UK, but it lurks beneath most of the criticisms levelled at the party leaders. The student antics of Cameron and Osborne have attracted widespread scorn, something previous generations of Oxbridge-educated leaders never endured. Miliband is labelled ‘gawky’, a term more commonly reserved for teenagers.
Rumour has it that Clegg sees his deputy prime minister’s role as a stopgap before going on to become an EU Commissioner. This has led to another voter complaint, which is that the EU has rendered Westminster a backwater. Being prime minister, some say, is now only a ‘mid-career job’ for ambitious politicians in their 40s. Tony Blair’s lucrative post-leadership career is an object of fascination and revulsion for certain tabloids. This anxiety, that British national leaders no longer matter, has fanned the popularity of the UK Independence Party, which campaigns for the UK’s exit from the EU.
Two further, related complaints are that the party leaders are ‘career politicians’ with no professional experience, other than shimmying up their parties’ greasy poles, and that they are ‘all the same’. Not only are Cameron, Clegg and Miliband close in age, but they all hail from affluent families in South-East England and are alumni of Oxford or Cambridge universities. They even dress the same. That Clegg was able to serve in Cameron’s cabinet suggested to many voters the absence of any real ideological differences between them.
The effect has been to raise the stature of more radical party leaders, such as UKIP’s Nigel Farage and even Nicola Sturgeon of the Scottish National Party (SNP). Sturgeon is not even running for a Westminster seat and her party is dedicated to ending the United Kingdom, but she has become arguably the star of the election campaign. The SNP threatens to wipe out Labour in Scotland, and Sturgeon has consciously aligned herself for the leaders of the Green Party and the Welsh nationalists Plaid Cymru, Natalie Bennett and Leanne Wood, whose parties are also attracting unusual levels of attention.
The situation recalls the US presidential primaries of 2012, when unlikely candidates captured the imagination of Republicans bored with Mitt Romney. It is not clear, however, that Britain’s major party leaders are the identikits they are made out to be. Rather, the problem is their youth. Cameron, Clegg and Miliband are still newcomers to the national stage. Voters do not feel they know them well enough to prefer one over the other. Britons are beginning to vet their aspirant leaders in the same way that Americans vet presidents, and they do not like what they see. They yearn for more qualified candidates. Until the major parties supply some, their fortunes look bleak.
The views presented in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily represent the views of any other organization.
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Britain’s Leaders: Too Much, Too Young
London, the UK. Red bus, taxi cab in motion and Big Ben, the Palace of Westminster. The icons of England in vintage, retro style
April 27, 2015
British voters are revolting. Next month’s general election is likely to deliver the coup de grâce to a two-party political system that has existed for almost a century. Why Britons are so disenchanted with their political class is a matter of much debate, but sublimated beneath it is a single, general annoyance: Britain’s party leaders are just too young.
For almost a century, British politics, like those of the United States, were a two-horse race. After 1922, power alternated between the leftish Labour party (Clement Attlee, Tony Blair) and the right-leaning Conservatives (the “Tories” of Winston Churchill, Margaret Thatcher). Five years ago this binary system began to show signs of distress. That year, the 43-year-old Prime Minister David Cameron became Britain’s youngest prime minister in almost 200 years.
His sidekick George Osborne, who took over the economy as chancellor of the exchequer, was even younger, at just 38. Their election victory was a marginal one; the Tories lacked a parliamentary majority. They patched this up with the Liberal Democrats, perennial also-rans led by the equally youthful Nick Clegg, 43. Clegg became deputy prime minister in the coalition government.
Despite losing only narrowly, the Labour party also opted for youth. That year, it elected the 40-year-old Ed Miliband as party leader. The most powerful posts in the land were now occupied by men barely older Ryan Giggs, a tricky footballer who was still darting up and down Manchester United’s left wing. The fortunes of one family illustrated the speed of this generational shift.
Readers with long memories may remember Douglas Hurd, Britain’s foreign secretary of the early 1990s. White-haired and bespectacled, his appearance was entirely typical of Cabinet ministers of the time. Hurd’s ministerial career began at the age of 49, and wrapped up when he was 65; a normal retirement age for men in the UK.
His son Nick, by contrast, became a minister in Cameron’s government aged just 38. He lost his job four years later. Nick Hurd’s ministerial career ended at the same age his father’s began.
This generational shift has attracted little comment in the UK, but it lurks beneath most of the criticisms levelled at the party leaders. The student antics of Cameron and Osborne have attracted widespread scorn, something previous generations of Oxbridge-educated leaders never endured. Miliband is labelled ‘gawky’, a term more commonly reserved for teenagers.
Rumour has it that Clegg sees his deputy prime minister’s role as a stopgap before going on to become an EU Commissioner. This has led to another voter complaint, which is that the EU has rendered Westminster a backwater. Being prime minister, some say, is now only a ‘mid-career job’ for ambitious politicians in their 40s. Tony Blair’s lucrative post-leadership career is an object of fascination and revulsion for certain tabloids. This anxiety, that British national leaders no longer matter, has fanned the popularity of the UK Independence Party, which campaigns for the UK’s exit from the EU.
Two further, related complaints are that the party leaders are ‘career politicians’ with no professional experience, other than shimmying up their parties’ greasy poles, and that they are ‘all the same’. Not only are Cameron, Clegg and Miliband close in age, but they all hail from affluent families in South-East England and are alumni of Oxford or Cambridge universities. They even dress the same. That Clegg was able to serve in Cameron’s cabinet suggested to many voters the absence of any real ideological differences between them.
The effect has been to raise the stature of more radical party leaders, such as UKIP’s Nigel Farage and even Nicola Sturgeon of the Scottish National Party (SNP). Sturgeon is not even running for a Westminster seat and her party is dedicated to ending the United Kingdom, but she has become arguably the star of the election campaign. The SNP threatens to wipe out Labour in Scotland, and Sturgeon has consciously aligned herself for the leaders of the Green Party and the Welsh nationalists Plaid Cymru, Natalie Bennett and Leanne Wood, whose parties are also attracting unusual levels of attention.
The situation recalls the US presidential primaries of 2012, when unlikely candidates captured the imagination of Republicans bored with Mitt Romney. It is not clear, however, that Britain’s major party leaders are the identikits they are made out to be. Rather, the problem is their youth. Cameron, Clegg and Miliband are still newcomers to the national stage. Voters do not feel they know them well enough to prefer one over the other. Britons are beginning to vet their aspirant leaders in the same way that Americans vet presidents, and they do not like what they see. They yearn for more qualified candidates. Until the major parties supply some, their fortunes look bleak.
The views presented in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily represent the views of any other organization.
