How to advise Lord North, or Heath, or Thatcher, or Johnson

5 Mar

Political Advice: Past, Present and Future edited by Colin Kidd and Jacqueline Rose

The press is excited by stories about Boris Johnson’s advisers. Who is in, who out? Who is briefing against whom? Carrie Symonds is running the country from her sofa! The news that leopards are to be reintroduced into St James’s Park shows she is. And anyhow, who paid for the sofa?

Readers who wish to take a longer view of political advice are advised to get hold of this book. But be warned: it does not offer a crib, a cut-out-and-keep guide to how to be an adviser.

The lesson of the book is that there are no lessons. If this volume were by a single author, we could perhaps deduce from it a doctrine, but it is actually the work of 14 different contributors, who on 8th June 2017 met for a one-day conference on Political Advice at All Souls College, Oxford.

We are not fed anything so misleading as a theory of advice, but in these 14 essays we do find intimations, continuities and recurrences as we travel with these authors from Periclean Athens via the Renaissance, Tudor England, the Scottish Enlightenment, British orientalists in Persia, Edward Heath’s managerialists in Whitehall and astrologers at the court of Ronald and Nancy Reagan, to an account of the impossibility of advising Donald Trump.

Nobody can govern alone: every ruler needs help, and as the editors, Colin Kidd and Jacqueline Rose, remark in their introduction, the people running the show today “have no more time or concentration than their predecessors in antiquity”.

There is a limit to how much advice anyone can take in, let alone make use of. William Waldegrave writes, in this volume, about his experience of being a member of the Central Policy Review Staff (CPRS) from 1971-73.

Heath, both as Leader of the Opposition and from 1970 as Prime Minister, had a tremendous appetite for policy advice. He was a man of his time, for as Waldegrave reminds us,

“the late 1960s had seen much discussion of whether Britain’s institutions had sufficiently modernised themselves: the civil service was among those subject to criticism, including self-criticism. This had led in 1966 to the establishment, after a select committee of the House of Commons had levelled the accusation of amateurism at the modern service, of the Fulton Committee…it made trenchant criticisms of what it saw as the cult of the generalist, the lack of influence by scientists, poor training and recruitment practices and other matters.”

The CPRS was one way in which Heath was determined to modernise the machinery of government, by creating a central strategic staff who would engage in long-term thinking and apply the latest management techniques, many of them imported from the United States, to which “two exceptionally able younger Conservatives”, David Howell (now Lord Howell) and Mark Schreiber (now Lord Marlesford) had been despatched on a mission to find out what was happening there.

In 1970, Howell made, in his pamphlet A New Style of Government, the first use in the United Kingdom of the word “privatisation”. According to Waldegrave, these British experts “linked management theory to political doctrine in a more interesting way than is found in most of the American work of the time”, relating “managerial efficiency…to the development of modern liberal free-market doctrines”.

What happened? Heath made a complete hash of things, and in February 1974 the British people threw him out of office. His administration had been characterised, not by long-term thinking, but by desperate short-term expedients which culminated in the lights going out.

And yet all that advice was not entirely wasted. After 1979, privatisation became, with Margaret Thatcher as Prime Minister, one of the Government’s most significant and successful policies.

She too was tremendously keen on getting good advice. She and her advisers learned from Heath’s mistakes, and for a long time her judgement of what was politically possible proved better than his.

But as Waldegrave goes on to say, both Houses of Parliament continue to feel “a deep suspicion of Bonapartist tendencies on the part of the Prime Minister”.

We don’t want a presidential system in this country, and got the central staffs created by Lloyd George and Churchill to fight the two world wars disbanded as soon as those conflicts were over.

Waldegrave, who served as a minister from 1981-97, regrets “the steady erosion” in recent times

“of a sense of Cabinet collectivity. Mr Blair is perhaps most to blame for this, but Mr Cameron is not innocent either. What the press has called ‘sofa government’ – combined with an over-intrusive regime of freedom of information – has taken us back to the time before Maurice Hankey and the establishment of the Cabinet Secretariat in 1916. Some major items of policy are not discussed collectively at all, and if they are discussed, little is recorded for fear of an immediate and politically driven application under the Freedom of Information Act. This is a recipe for bad decision-taking, as well as for ultimate lack of accountability.”

Boris Johnson became Prime Minister too recently for his behaviour in office to be considered in this volume. But one can’t help wondering whether his critics have been asking the wrong question.

They have assumed he is too weak: that he will soon be swept from office. Perhaps they should have been asking, instead, whether he is too strong: whether Bonapartist tendencies are beginning to manifest themselves.

For whoever occupies Number Ten has a near monopoly of the political advice which other ministers would need in order to make forceful arguments in Cabinet, or Cabinet committee, about any subject beyond their departmental responsibilities.

Sajid Javid refused, on being told he would not be allowed to choose his own advisers, to continue as Chancellor of the Exchequer.

Jesse Norman, currently serving as Financial Secretary to the Treasury, contributes to this volume an essay entitled Smith as SpAd? Adam Smith and Advice to Politicians.

The first part of this title has a Wodehousian ring. It prompts the thought that in modern English literature, the greatest provider of advice is Jeeves, and the greatest recipient Wooster.

Adam Smith often advised politicians:

“In 1766-7, he supplied information about French taxes to, and corrected the calculations of, Charles Townshend, then Chancellor of the Exchequer, in relation to the Sinking Fund designed to repay debt incurred during the Seven Years’ War; the fund was topped up in Townshend’s 1767 budget. He also advised Lord Shelburne on colonial policy at this time. Lord North thanked Smith for his advice on his 1777 Budget, when he took ideas from The Wealth of Nations for two new taxes, on manservants and on property sold by auction. He took two more ideas in 1778: the malt tax and a very Smithian duty on the rentable value of buildings. Also in 1778, Smith wrote ‘Thoughts on the State of the Contest with America’, a long and considered memorandum setting out different options for British policy towards the American colonies, then in revolt, at the request of his friend Alexander Wedderburn, the Solicitor General.”

We also find Smith advising on trade between Britain and Ireland. Just now his help would be invaluable. He recognised, as Norman puts it, “that the world was an imperfect place, in which evils could exist and persist”.

Smith was not the laissez-faire ideologue for which he has sometimes been mistaken. Nor was he the kind of generalist with which the Fulton Committee, and latterly Dominic Cummings, considered the civil service to be over-provided. Smith was a Commissioner of Customs, active in the regulation and suppression of smuggling.

Colin Burrow remarks, in his essay entitled How Not To Do It: Poets and Counsel, Thomas Wyatt to Geoffrey Hill:

“The figure of the frank speaker condemned to the margins of political life, and thus unable to deliver counsel to his monarch, became one of the major literary personae of the later Henrician period.”

Twitter is just now infested with such frank speakers, who do not turn out to be gifted poets, but spend their days denouncing with hysterical self-righteousness anyone with whom they disagree.

The adviser has to be willing to compromise; often works for palpably inadequate leaders; but is at least on the field of play.

Profile: Tony Blair. Driven, unrepentant and urgent – the leader who took us to war in Iraq is reborn as our saviour from the pandemic.

25 Feb

It is always difficult to know what to do after being Prime Minister, unless one can become PM again. In recent times, Harold Wilson managed that, and so did Winston Churchill, while Sir Alec Douglas-Home returned as Foreign Secretary.

In June 2007, when Tony Blair’s prime ministership was terminated by his own party (cf. Margaret Thatcher), he ruled out a comeback by standing down from the Commons too.

He didn’t have to do this. It would, of course, have been painful to remain in the House, for it enforces proximity, and he would have had to rub shoulders with those who had overthrown him. But Theresa May has shown it can be done, as did Edward Heath.

Blair has chosen another path, for which it is hard to find any precedent. What furies drive him? Why this frantic activity?

Almost 14 years after he left Downing Street, he addresses us, not as an elder statesman, but with the energy and urgency of a man who has persuaded himself he would be a better Prime Minister now, as a 67-year-old, than he was on entering Downing Street at the age of 43.

It is possible he is right. Not for him the error, committed by some on the losing side in the EU referendum, of issuing ever more hysterical denunciations of Boris Johnson, and supposing that these shrieks amount to an adequate position.

Here is Blair in a speech delivered on 15th January, telling Remainers why they must accept Brexit and make a success of it:

“I campaigned so long and so passionately against Brexit because I believed it to be a strategic error not just of policy but of destiny. I haven’t changed my mind about its wisdom. But reality is reality. We have done it. We must live with it. We should make the best of it. And as I have said recently, if a return to Europe is ever to be undertaken by a new generation, Britain should do it as a successful nation Europe is anxious to embrace, not as supplicant with no other options.”

But it is on the pandemic and how to deal with it that Blair is just now most audible. A Blairite apparatchik explained to ConHome why Blair can so often be heard urging swifter and bolder action:

“I think the simple fact is that he sees a vacuum – he doesn’t see Boris Johnson as the chief-executive-type Prime Minister, and sees Matt Hancock as very receptive to some of his stuff. He’s put a lot of the resources of his Institute into this – it’s a do tank as well as a think tank. 

“And he’s prepared to be quite bold publicly – he was the first person to advocate giving the second jab not in four weeks but in 12. He’d done the homework.”

When ConHome remarked to the apparatchik that Blair became more hated by Labour activists than any leader of the party since Ramsay MacDonald, he replied:

“The party felt we need a Clause Four moment to rescind Blairism and apologise for winning three elections in a row. The biggest problem with the Labour Party is it doesn’t like success. The darlings of the Labour Party, Neil Kinnock and Jeremy Corbyn, were complete losers.”

There is an unrepentant quality about Blair which can render him utterly repugnant. Democracies expect, in those who aspire to rule them, a degree of humility.

The Commons, though full of hierarchies, enforces a brutal equality: no one who fights to win in that Chamber “can keep himself out of the reach of a knock-down blow” (as Sir George Otto Trevelyan puts it at the end of The Early History of Charles James Fox).

In 2007, Blair chose to leave that Chamber, where he had enjoyed an almost unbroken series of triumphs. Our democracy is designed to bring politicians back to earth, so they do not get too big for their boots, or at least not for long (see the careers of Peel, Disraeli, Gladstone, Lloyd George, Churchill and many others).

Blair by a fluke of timing was spared the devastating reverses suffered by most of his predecessors. The last election he lost was the Beaconsfield by-election of 1982. The following year, a bad one for Labour, he entered the Commons as MP for Sedgefield.

It is true that Labour continued for some time after that to lose general elections. But Blair himself was on the upward track, at first as apprentice to a gifted and altogether more experienced and better known member of the 1983 intake from Scotland, with whom he shared a windowless Commons office.

When Blair became shadow Home Secretary, his former room-mate, Gordon Brown, drafted an impregnable soundbite for him:

“Tough on crime, and tough on the causes of crime.”

What decent person could object to that? Blair was on his way, and two years later, in 1994, when John Smith died, had the audacity to snatch the Labour leadership from under Brown’s nose.

Whoever became Leader of the Opposition in 1994 was pretty much bound to become Prime Minister, for the Conservatives had already lost the next general election. After Black Wednesday, 16th September 1992, when Britain was ejected from the Exchange Rate Mechanism, the Tory Party’s share in the polls fell to 30 per cent, where it stuck for the next five years.

Blair and his coterie naturally claimed, and came to believe, that Labour’s landslide victory in 1997 reflected their own brilliance. But as William Waldegrave, a minister from 1981-97, remarks in his memoir, A Different Kind of Weather:

“We Conservatives created their, and Blair’s, reputations for electoral genius; and we bequeathed them an economy that let them ride the boom years in populist style. Blair simply had to look like a renewed and more attractive version of us. He was able to do it – if his book is to be believed (and on this subject it should be) – because that was precisely what he was.”

In his early years, Blair possessed a self-deprecating sense of humour which preserved him against the charge of having become too big for his own boots.

Robert Harris – author of The Ghost, the rudest novel about a recent Prime Minister – has described the favourable impression which Blair used to make:

“I think when one knew him first off one of the charms of him was that he seemed, as he said, ‘a regular sort of guy’. I met him first in 1992, I think, and he seemed very much like the sort of man who would live next door to you – a fellow professional, commonsensical, friendly, approachable.

“Well, little did we know. It’s impossible to see the man he is now in the man that I knew. Who knew that he would become a great friend of George Bush and would want to keep bombing people and would become so passionately interested in making money? I mean maybe someone more perceptive than I would have seen it, but I never saw that at the time, nor – knowing a lot of the people who know him very well – did they.

“It’s a cliché to say that most politicians go mad if they’re in office for more than about six or seven years, and they become a member of a club and you become quite disconnected from reality, and I think there were in Tony things we perhaps didn’t realise at the time – of narcissism, a messiah complex, that had merely accelerated this impulse in him.”

For many, the disastrous outcome of the Iraq War in 2003 destroyed their faith in Blair. He had enjoyed an unnaturally prolonged honeymoon as PM, but this was followed by an even longer period in which few people could bear the sound of his voice.

For he sounded so vain, so pleased with himself, so impervious to criticism. Not a word of true regret escaped his lips. Everything he had done had been done in good faith.

This was intolerable. He did not stay in the Commons, where criticism would have been unavoidable, but floated off into the world of the super-rich, with whom he had long enjoyed taking holidays.

Here was a man who stood up for the rich and powerful. Even before he became Prime Minister he had described Pontius Pilate as “the second most interesting character in the New Testament”, and explained:

“The intriguing thing about Pilate is the degree to which he tried to do the good thing rather than the bad. He commands our moral attention not because he was a bad man, but because he was so nearly a good man. One can imagine him agonising, seeing that Jesus had done nothing wrong, and wishing to release him. Just as easily, however, one can envisage Pilate’s advisers telling him of the risks, warning him not to cause a riot or inflame Jewish opinion. It is a timeless parable of political life.”

So it is, but after 2003 Blair’s sympathies were seen, by many of his former Labour supporters, to lie with warmongering plutocrats such as George W, Bush and Rupert Murdoch.

Blair continued to insist on his own highmindedness. His moral vanity became intolerable. When he was right about things – and his biographer, John Rentoul, has the courage to point out that Blair was often right – that only made him more annoying.

Rentoul concedes that Blair’s first office after stepping down as Prime Minister, in Grosvenor Square, “was so obviously just a replica of 10 Downing Street”, while “that place in Great Missenden is a replica of Chequers”.

Here was a man who could not admit to himself that he was no longer in office. He was pretending to himself that he was still a mover and shaker. And in Rentoul’s words,

“He thought that if there was a problem, the way to solve it was for him to roll up his sleeves and apply himself to it. He was restlessly looking for really difficult problems only he could solve.”

The first of these really difficult problems was the Middle East, where from 2007-15 Blair served as Special Envoy for the United Nations, European Union, United States and Russia.

But his efforts are nowadays concentrated on the Tony Blair Institute for Global Change, on whose website we read, in words which might have been drafted by Stephen Potter, President of the LIfemanship Correspondence College at Yeovil:

“Tony Blair is Founder and Executive Chairman of the Institute. The Institute is a not-for-profit organisation. The Executive Chairman plays a hands-on role in the strategic development of the organisation, and actively engages with leaders, organisations and debates that he believes are critical to our mission. Tony Blair and the executive staff run the organisation of over 200 staff based in 14 African nations, the UK, the United States, United Arab Emirates, Serbia and Israel. Tony Blair is the sole owner and Executive Chairman of the Institute, as set out in the Articles of Association, and he receives no remuneration for his work at TBI, to which he devotes at least 80 per cent of his time.”

We are reminded that as Prime Minister, he was already “a central figure on the global stage”, and “a passionate advocate of an interventionist foreign policy”, a claim which might also be made for Genghis Khan.

The word “Iraq” is omitted from this autobiography, which displays the author’s gift for careful drafting. Here he is on an earlier occasion, defending his record in office:

“For prime ministers today, a lot of the job is about getting things done, it’s about delivery… And unless you have a powerful centre, unless the prime minister has the power to do things, things just don’t happen…with things like foot and mouth and so on, these crises that hit you, the fuel protests, if I hadn’t gripped that and run it, never mind Cabinet government, run it myself with the ministers sitting round the table gripping it, salvaging it, it just would not have happened.”

This former Prime Minister knows how to create his own drama.

Blair was keen on the European Union, yet when the chips were down, he sided with the United States.

Disillusioned Remainers observe that as Prime Minister, Blair encouraged business to import as many workers as it liked from the EU, while taking no trouble to train British workers: behaviour which prepared the way for the No vote in 2016.

The Third Way used to be fashionable, but its leading figures – Bill Clinton, Gerhard Schröder, Blair himself – have not aged well.

Yet it is still possible to find oneself listening, as the day begins, to Blair holding forth on Radio 4, giving us the benefit of the latest ideas developed for him by the bright young policy wonks at his Institute.

Blair the Man of Destiny steps forward to save the nation. He has somehow forgotten that if one really wants to save the nation, one must work, as once he worked, with a political party that can win a general election.

Profile. Kwarteng Unchained. The rise, wobble and rise of the big, bold, bright new Business Secretary

14 Jan

Last Friday, Kwasi Kwarteng slipped quietly into the Cabinet as Business Secretary. His promotion was announced, ConHome noted, with no fanfare, but could prove one of Boris Johnson’s most significant appointments.

For as soon as the emphasis shifts from surviving the pandemic to reviving the economy, Kwarteng will become a key figure.

He has many admirers. “I think it’s an inspired appointment,” a senior backbencher said.

“He’s not only very clever,” a minister commented. “He has beliefs.”

Kwarteng has never been shy about communicating those beliefs. Here he is in his maiden speech, delivered in June 2010, refusing to allow Labour members to disclaim responsibility for the crash of 2007-08:

“I have to say – even though this is a maiden speech, I will be controversial – that to hear Labour Members in many of these debates is to be in never-never land; they have not once accepted any blame for what happened and they seem to think that we can just sail on as before.

“In many of their eloquent speeches it appears that they have forgotten that wealth creation is the most important element in getting us out of this recession. I heard Mr Meacher, who I believe has been in the House for 40 years, say that he was going to tax those in The Sunday Times rich list. Of course, one of the results of their being rich is that they can leave the country in about half an hour, so if he were to go down that route, a lot of them would leave and he would not bring in any more money to the Exchequer.

“One of the right hon. Gentleman’s remarks reminded me of the story of the man who, when leaving a gentlemen’s club – it might have been the Carlton Club – in 1970 gave the footman sixpence. The footman looked at him and said, ‘That is only sixpence,’ to which he replied, ‘Ah, it is sixpence to you, but it is a pound to me.’ That was because income tax was at 95 per cent or 97 per cent. We cannot go down the road that the right hon. Gentleman suggests, and the Conservatives have stressed again and again that the only way to get out of this difficulty is to try to let business grow.”

Kwarteng has a gusto and readiness to be amused which are not always found in senior politicians. He is always in play, keen to have the necessary argument, trenchant without being rancorous, a man of loud laughter as well as conviction, and also six foot five inches tall, which makes him yet more difficult to overlook.

In 2012, when he and four other members of the 2010 intake – Priti Patel, Dominic Raab, Liz Truss and Chris Skidmore – published Britannia Unchained: Global Lessons for Growth and Prosperity, they attracted prudish expressions of disapproval for declaring:

“The British are among the worst idlers in the world. We work among the lowest hours, we retire early and our productivity is poor. Whereas Indian children aspire to be doctors or businessmen, the British are more interested in football and pop music.”

Four of the five authors are now in the Cabinet. As Business Secretary, Kwarteng is in a position to fulfil the positive vision set out in Britannia Unchained, which looked at what could be learned from India, Canada, Israel and Brazil, and pointed out that in Singapore, Hong Kong and South Korea,

“a combination of private enterprise and effective government policy has enabled economic growth rates which we can only dream about in the West.”

The quintet also expressed admiration for Chinese growth rates, “scarcely equalled in world history”, and advocated low taxes, spending cuts and a restored work ethic.

All this prompted widespread expressions of horror in the British press, as if the country was about to be wrecked by noxious foreign influences.

Left-wing critics felt, too, an instinctive aversion to the authors’ patriotism, their unembarrassed determination to reinvigorate Great Britain.

Such critics tended to miss the extent to which immigrants to this country, and their descendants, are inspired by what Shirley Robin Letwin identified, in The Anatomy of Thatcherism, as “the vigorous virtues”, which mean a preference for the individual who is

“upright, self-sufficient, energetic, adventurous, independent-minded, loyal to friends, and robust against enemies.”

Kwarteng is a good example of this. His parents were born in the Gold Coast, as Ghana was known when it was a British colony, and emigrated to Britain.

Their only child, Kwasi Alfred Addo Kwarteng, was born in 1975 in Waltham Forest, on the Essex side of London, so was four when Margaret Thatcher became Prime Minister.

He has related, in an interview given to mark the publication of one of his books, how his mother, Charlotte, who became a barrister, identified with Thatcher:

“It was a self-reliance thing. Look, this is what we all forget about Margaret Thatcher. Her story was so extraordinary, given where she had come from, that some immigrants — and I’m not saying a majority, but some people who were new to this country — did identify with her. This woman who had become the leader of the Conservative Party and Prime Minister. It was a log cabin to White House sort of thing. It was a powerful story.”

His father, Alfred, who worked as an economist for the Commonwealth Secretariat, was a man of the Left, with an education in Ghana which had been in the English tradition,

“in a leafy Anglican school emulating the English public school, down to its Winchester-educated English headmaster.”

Kwasi’s education was likewise thoroughly English. His father was posted by the Commonwealth Secretariat to Switzerland, but the boy was sent at the age of eight to board at Colet Court, an academic preparatory school in London: “Probably too young, but I loved it”

Most boys from Colet Court go on to St Paul’s, but Kwasi won a scholarship to Eton, where he gained the school’s chief academic prize, the Newcastle Scholarship, a distinction shared, among Conservative politicians, with Quintin Hogg, Douglas Hurd, William Waldegrave and Boris Johnson.

Like Johnson, he competed with enthusiasm in the Wall Game, whose educational value was elucidated by Oliver Van Oss, who taught at Eton:

“The Wall Game is the supreme non-spectacle, the last sport totally to disregard the spectator… As a preparation for life, the Wall Game has two special merits. It teaches one to push oneself to the limits of endurance and discomfort without losing one’s temper. It provides the perfect training for later work on boards, committees, royal commissions and governing bodies. The unmovable and the irresistible are poised in perfect balance. Nothing is happening and it seems unlikely that anything ever will. Then, for two seconds or so, the situation becomes fluid. If one can take one’s chance – and there may not be another – the day is won. If one miskicks or mistimes or is timid or was not attending, all may be irretrievably lost.”

Kwarteng was not timid, and was paying attention:

“Kwarteng’s interview at Trinity College, Cambridge, became the stuff of an oft-retold Eton school legend. A relatively young tutor ended a slightly nervy interview by mentioning that this was his first time interviewing entrance candidates. ‘Oh, don’t worry, sir, you did fine,’ smiled the 18-year-old Kwarteng reassuringly.”

At Trinity he took Firsts in History and Classics, and was in the winning University Challenge team.

Through the Oakeshott Society, run by Dr John Casey in the next door college, Caius, Kwarteng at a tender age met various Daily Telegraph journalists, who saw in him a delightful conversationalist, precociously well-read and exceptionally able, and conferred on him a column in that newspaper.

He became a Kennedy Scholar at Harvard, after which he did a doctorate in economic history at Cambridge and earned some money as an analyst in the City, working for and becoming friends with Crispin Odey.

In 2005 he stood for Parliament as a Conservative in Brent East, and came third, in 2008 he ran unsuccessfully for the London Assembly, and in 2010 he was adopted in an open primary held at Kempton Park racecourse as the candidate for the safe Tory seat of Spelthorne, which used to be in Middlesex but is now in Surrey, and is situated south of Heathrow Airport.

Kwarteng was by now encumbered with predictions that he would soon achieve greatness. He was described as “the black Boris” and a future Prime Minister, and wrote several well-received works of history, including Ghosts of Empire and War and Gold.

But he was by no means slavishly loyal to David Cameron and George Osborne, preserved indeed the sovereign manner of a free man, received from them no preferment and backed Leave in the EU Referendum, and Johnson’s failed leadership bid immediately afterwards.

After Theresa May’s not entirely successful election campaign of 2017, Kwarteng was made PPS to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Philip Hammond, and in August 2018, when Suella Braverman resigned as Under-Secretary at the Department for Exiting the European Union, Kwarteng was put in to replace her.

The following year, he again backed Johnson for the leadership, and was rewarded with the post of Minister of State at the Department for Business, Energy and Industrial Strategy.

So Kwarteng has had a year and a half to get to know his department, and work out what can be done with it.

A senior Remainer said of his appointment: “He will be really good. Whatever you think about Brexit, he’s got a clear view of the world. It’s helpful for a big Brexiteer to have to own a lot of the issues that will come up.”

We are about to witness Kwarteng Unchained. Stuffed to the gills with the finest education England can provide, he has the chance to rejoice the hearts of Conservatives by showing that Eton, and other ancient foundations wrongly supposed to be resistant to change, are actually a marvellous preparation for the modern world.