A good election to lose? The 1997 Conservative Leadership Contest

In 1997 the Conservatives lost an election for the first time in over two decades. When John Major resigned, the bloodied, bruised and diminished party had to find a new leader.

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A good election to lose? The 1997 Conservative Leadership Contest

by Lee David Evans

In May 1997, the Conservatives lost a general election for the first time in over two decades. The last time it happened, in 1974, Edward Heath decided he would carry on as leader, ultimately having to be removed by his own MPs. (See here). Twenty three years on, John Major set a precedent which has continued ever since: with the election lost, he resigned. Bloodied, bruised and diminished to just 165 MPs, the Conservatives had to find a new leader.

Before the process could begin, a question had to be answered: who would choose the new leader, and by what means? The leadership rules introduced in 1965 had been brought in following the party’s defeat after thirteen years in office. Similarly, the rule change to enable MPs to remove a leader had followed defeat in 1974. And so it was no surprise that the 1997 election triggered an almost immediate bout of introspection about how the party functions and, most importantly, how it chooses its chief.

The likelihood of any change before the next leadership election diminished when Major stood outside Number 10 Downing Street on the 2nd May and declared, ‘when the curtain falls it is time to get off the stage and that is what I propose to do.’ Major advised his colleagues in Parliament that they should ‘consider’ the selection of a new leader; those hoping for a change in the rules might have been reassured when he conceded that it would ‘take a little while to organise.’ But his preference that his remaining days at the top would be just a ‘reasonably brief interregnum’ hinted that if agreement on a new set out rules couldn’t be reached soon, then the contest should go ahead using the 1965 rulebook. This left advocates for change with a narrow window in which to win the argument.

Two developments confirmed their defeat. The first was the speed with which candidates for the succession emerged. Major left Downing Street for the final time around 11:30am on 2nd May; Ken Clarke, his former Chancellor, waited no longer than an interview with BBC’s World at One to announce, ‘I certainly intend to be a candidate in the leadership election.’ Other interested candidates felt Clarke had moved inappropriately quickly, but their own declarations soon followed.

The second development came in response to a proposal by the National Union, the senior volunteers in the party, which would have given the party’s grassroots a say in the election of the new leader. Robin Hodgson, Chairman of the National Convention, had damned the existing rules as ‘totally unsatisfactory.’ Plenty of people sympathised with his view. But reformers had the problem of which alternative rules to propose. It was widely accepted that a ballot of all members was not feasible, not least as the Tories did not have a central membership list but approximately 600 different associations with lists of varying accuracy. The National Union proposed that the party give the right to vote, but not to nominate, to the most senior volunteers in the country: Association Chairman, European constituency chairmen, and the executive of the National Union. Their proposed level of influence was 20 percent, with an electoral college preserving four-fifths of the votes for Members of Parliament.

The decision whether to allow the National Union their say effectively depended upon whether the 1922 Committee were willing to surrender that slither of their influence. The question could not practically be decided until Parliament met and the remaining Tory MPs elected a new Chairman of the 1922 Committee. (Marcus Fox, the chairman going into the election, had lost his seat of Shipley). Archie Hamilton, MP for Epsom and Ewell, won the contest to be the shop steward of Tory MPs and immediately ruled out any change in the rules before Major’s successor was announced. To placate the grassroots he told the media, ‘I totally accept, and we’ve all agreed, that there will be a very much wider franchise for the leadership elections in the future.’ But, he was clear: not yet.

The influence of the grassroots would remain limited to informal consultations and whatever public comments the National Union chose to make. To add some weight to their views, the volunteers decided to hold ballots before each round. Constituency chairmen, MEPs, peers and National Union officers were all asked to vote on which of the candidates they wanted to succeed. It would, they hoped, influence the battle to lead the world’s oldest political party in opposition. But, as in previous contests, MPs would be free to accept or ignore their preferences however they wished.

The candidates

After eighteen years in government, in which just two people had held the role of prime minister but many ambitious MPs had gained senior ministerial experience, the Tory party was brimming with aspiring leaders. But the field of candidates had some limitations placed upon it. One was the severity of the election defeat; at least four possible candidates lost their seats. Michael Portillo, who would have begun the contest among the front-runners, and three less likely candidates, Malcolm Rifkind, Ian Lang and Norman Lamont, all suffered rejection from their voters. Another likely candidate was Michael Heseltine, who had played a role in the last three Tory leadership contests; he lingered behind a stalking horse in 1989, challenged Margaret Thatcher directly in 1990, and was preparing to stand if there was a second ballot in the 1995 contest. Heseltine had remained in the Commons and his ambition had not been quenched, but two days after polling day in 1997 he was admitted to hospital with angina. Having already suffered a heart attack in 1993, and being much older than any other leadership candidate at 64, he announced he would not be standing. (Heseltine, of course, is still alive at 91. Whether that suggests his health was good enough to stand, or that not standing helped preserve him, is of course unknowable!).

Of those aspiring leaders who remained in the Commons and felt fit to stand, Ken Clarke was the first to make his intentions known. His announcement that he intended to stand the day after the election shocked few people with its substance. He was a former Chancellor, widely rated as a success in the role, and was by some margin the most popular Tory in the country. The other person everybody expected to stand was John Redwood, the challenger to Major in 1995. Back then, he had been brave enough to resign from the Cabinet and challenge Major, warning his colleagues that if there was no change at the top the Tories had ‘no chance’. The election result had appeared to vindicate his claims and he hoped he would be rewarded for his foresight.