I see (nearly) all the birds are flown

It is a slightly surprising statistic that only 2 of the 9 former official leaders of Labour and the Conservatives are still in the House of Commons. Needless to say, this means that none of Britain’s surviving former PMs are still on the green benches of Parliament. Throughout British history there have been seventeen Prime Ministers who have served more than once, yet no PM has fought an election to remain an MP after having leaving office since Callaghan, who contested the 1983 election as an ordinary MP. This is not due to age. Of the five since, Thatcher was alone in being over 60 when she left office. Cameron was not yet 50. This brings us to another statistic. Of the 22 men and women to have left Downing Street since the turn of the 20th century, 8 said their final farewell before their 60th birthday — half of those were the latest four out of the door (for reference, the last time such a run was achieved was when George IV was on the throne). Our leaders are leaving office earlier and younger.

This is a worrying trend — although Theresa May will break it for now at least — as it shows a lack of senior experience in the higher echelons of politics. This is not to be taken lightly. Consider William Hague’s career which appeared over when he was 40, yet peaked when he was in his 50s. Fast-tracked from speaking at the Conservative party conference aged 16, to being an MP aged 27, he became leader of the party at 36. It was a disaster. Unready to lead, dogged by half-baked political stunts and party infighting, Hague was unable to make any serious gains in the 2001 election into what was a preposterously large defence for Labour and he subsequently stepped down from leadership. Yet under Cameron’s leadership, Hague flourished as Foreign Secretary. Finding the longevity of his career combined with his previous experience in such a senior role provided him with the gravitas the role requires, he rebuilt a reputation that few would have expected to see back in 2001. And yet he stepped down in 2014 before leaving the Commons the following year. Here was a politician coming into their own after having built up a wealth of experience, only to tire of the game and stand aside.

It must be considered what is leading to this talent drain. There are three primary and interconnected reasons: the increased demands of the job, the rise of the political class, and cultural shifts.

The role of leader of a political party is a job with an increasingly heavy workload. Lead by Blair’s almost presidential style of leadership, subsequent premiers have sought to centralise and make more decisions at Number 10, with opposition leaders following suit. This draws upon more energy and attracts even more attention. The stresses of this have been evident in Corbyn’s experience of leading the Labour party. With no prior media spotlight, he was initially overwhelmed by the attention and continues to display irritability at the near constant presence of the press. He has struggled to manage the number of people in his party that look to him for answers, directions, and leadership. His office has been criticised for giving inconsistent replies, not passing on information, being inaccessible, and for making amateurish mistakes. These are partially the consequences of a leader with little experience of leadership and a youthful staff, but it is also emblematic of the huge workload and increased pressures of the job.

One of the reasons that Corbyn has struggled with this system is that he developed as a politician in a different political age. He entered Parliament in 1983, a pre-internet, a pre-24-hour news, and, most importantly, a pre-political class age. The rise of the political class is well documented in Peter Oborne’s The Triumph of the Political Class. In it, Oborne shows how a new breed of politician started to appear in the early 1990s. These politicians would go straight from university to working either for an upwardly mobile MP, minister, or the party machine, before landing the candidature for a preferable seat. These politicians grew up knowing they were destined for power and trained for it. With close ties to the growing 24-hour news cycle, they knew how to work the media and developed a centrist political creed that was neutral, inoffensive, and played well. Inevitably, their success came in abundance. Pioneered by Blair and Brown, Labour led the way, with the Tories soon following suit with Cameron and Osborne.

The problem was two-fold: first, this group was moulded too much for politics and not enough by desire for the national well-being; secondly, they became burnt out. That is not to say that they did not care for the success and health of the country, but rather that, once they had reached the political pinnacle, there was little reason to stay around at the first sign of trouble or the first setback. Hence, Blair and Cameron left the Commons as soon as they left Downing Street, while Brown became a seldom seen backbench MP before standing down at the following election. Additionally, having worked in and around Parliament for their entire adult lives made them tire of it at a younger age. Cameron’s stated plan to stand down before the 2020 election was tied to the fact that he’d led the Conservatives since 2005. Had he made it to 2020 he would have served as leader almost as long as Thatcher, only he’d be as old then as Thatcher was when she started her premiership.

One of the striking divides in contemporary society, particularly with regards to politics, is the divide between the young and the old. In every election since Blair’s landslide in 1997, the over 55s and 18–24 age groups have voted for different parties, as well as disagreeing in the last three major referendums. This is reflected across society as calls for a “young voice” are frequently heard when any topic is being discussed. This itself has been driven by the high levels of political disengagement amongst the group as well as their “desirable” status in society. The 18–30 age bracket is amongst the most targeted by companies and political parties are following their lead. Looking to bolster appeal to young voters without having to promise them anything, they have turned to younger leaders. These tend to be more photogenic, more dynamic, more energetic, and, supposedly, more in-touch, all of which plays well with modern media. The Lib Dems made the most overt shift in recent times, when Ming Campbell (66) stood down to be succeeded by Nick Clegg (40). Forced out through calls for a fresh face to appeal to younger voters, Clegg would go on to denounce the “ageism” that Campbell had been a victim of. Yet it spread. Of the seven leaders who stood in the ITV leader’s debates before the 2015 election, only Nigel Farage (50) had celebrated his 50th birthday.

Another aspect of the cultural shift is the constant media pressure that we’ve touched on above. Since those election debates, none of the top five polled UK-wide parties have retained the leader that took them into that election — three out of the five as a direct consequence of failing at the ballot box. The constant media coverage and need to fill not just papers and news-bulletins, but pixels and 24 hour news channels has made for greater external pressure on how to respond to events — usually with a bias towards the more sensationalist responses. This is evident in all aspects of society under intense media scrutiny, for example with fewer football managers staying in their jobs for long periods of time, and politics is no different. Since the turn of the millennium, Labour is the only major party to have every one of it’s official leaders fight a general election before leaving the role, but even that could easily change before 2020. To highlight how strange this is, Ian Duncan-Smith was the first Conservative party leader to not lead his party into a general election since Neville Chamberlain stood down in World War II, while Ming Campbell was the first ever Liberal/Liberal Democrat leader to not lead his party into a general election.

These causes are intrinsically tied together by the close relationship between the political and media classes. So closely tied are they that as the demands of the media rise, so the pressure on politicians rises. None feel this as greatly as the leaders. This has been exacerbated by a political class that has sought to deepen these ties as well as take on more personal responsibility. Seeing it as a job rather than a calling, they have little desire to fight a turning tide. Indeed Cameron’s decision to stand down as an MP was rumoured to be because he could not stomach having to watch May turn on his policies and with little desire to fight for them from the backbenches.

However, the recent falls of Miliband, Balls, Osborne, and Cameron may have signalled a changing of the guard. The public seems to have turned on the political class with frequent criticisms of politicians being too polished, lacking in real-world experience, and a lack of choice between the parties. Corbyn was elected because he was seen as such an antithesis to the political class; while Stephen Crabb and Michael Gove, the candidates that best fit the political class stereotype, were soundly beaten in the Conservative leadership campaign. Whether Corbyn and May will carry on fighting elections after they encounter their first loss remains to be seen, however, it would be of great benefit to the politics of the future if they set an example and carried on serving.