The Centre Left governments that dominated the North Atlantic zone up to the turn of the millennium have now all but disappeared. Within six months of Bush’s victory in the United States, the Olive Tree coalition had crumbled before Berlusconi’s Forza Italia. The autumn of 2001 saw Social Democrats driven from office in Norway and Denmark. In April 2002 Kok’s Labour-led government resigned over a report pointing to Dutch troops’ complicity in the Srebrenica massacre. The following month, Jospin came in a humiliating third behind Chirac and Le Pen in the French presidential contest, and the Right triumphed in the legislative elections. In Germany, the spd–Green coalition clung on by a whisker, aided by providential floods. Though the sap retains its historic grip on Sweden it now lacks an absolute majority, and Persson was trounced in the 2003 campaign for euro entry. In Greece, where pasok has only been out of power for three years since 1981, Simitis squeaked back in 2000 with a 43.8 to 42.7 per cent lead.

Within this landscape, Britain has been the conspicuous exception. In the United Kingdom alone a Centre Left government remains firmly in place, its grip on power strengthened, if anything, in its second term of office, and still enjoying a wide margin of electoral advantage. Both features—New Labour’s survival against the general turn of the political wheel, and the scale of its domestic predominance—set it apart within the oecd zone. Elsewhere, although administrations have shifted from Centre Left to Centre Right, party voting blocs have remained relatively stable—only a point or so off 50:50 in the us, for example. In Britain, counter-cyclically, a much more drastic shift in fortunes has occurred. Blair’s successive parliamentary landslides, in 1997 and 2001, have produced the largest Commons majorities in postwar history, the second returning 413 Labour mps to 166 Conservatives and 52 Liberal Democrats. Even with the uk bogged down in the occupation of Iraq, New Labour looks set to win an unprecedented third term of office in 2005.

The British exception poses three interconnected questions which need to be considered within a comparative, international context. What are the reasons for the stability of Blair’s regime? How should the record of New Labour in office be assessed? Where ought the logic of political opposition to it lie?

Blair’s unprecedented parliamentary majorities need first to be decoded, for the underlying electoral geography looks rather different. In absolute terms, Labour’s popular vote of 10.7 million in 2001 was well down even on the 11.5 million that saw Kinnock defeated in 1992. Fewer than one voter in four (24 per cent of the total electorate) actually marked a cross for Blair’s government, while turnout fell from a (then) record low of 71 per cent in 1997 to a mere 59 per cent in 2001.footnote¹ Unrepresented in parliament are the 2.8 million Labour abstentions in Britain’s former industrial heartlands—the metropolitan conurbations of Tyne and Wear, Manchester, Merseyside, the West Midlands, Clydeside and South Wales. It was the hard-core Labour vote that stayed at home: whites in the old colliery districts, Asians in the Lancashire inner cities, under-25s in particular. Turnout fell below 44 per cent in the blighted constituencies round the Tyneside shipyards, the bleak Glaswegian council estates and the semi-derelict terraces of Salford and central Leeds; below 35 per cent in the ruined zones of Liverpool’s docklands.footnote² Measured in terms of working-class disenfranchisement, the Americanization of British politics has accelerated dramatically under New Labour, to abstention levels worthy of the us itself.

Blair’s massive majorities, then, have been the product not of voter enthusiasm but of a winner-takes-all electoral system, which has luridly distorted one of the most striking events in current British politics—the collapse of the Conservatives, the country’s historic party of government. For if New Labour’s support has been weak, the Tory vote has crashed: from a respectable 14 million in 1992, to 9.6 million in 1997, to a mere 8.3 million in 2001. In all the major urban centres, the new Middle England that was Thatcher’s dream—non-unionized, service-sector owner-occupiers—has abandoned her party, either voting Labour or staying at home. The Conservatives retain only two seats out of 23 in Inner London; one of 25 in Greater Manchester; none in the urban Merseyside or Tyne and Wear regions.footnote³ They have been virtually banished from the Celtic periphery, with a single seat in Scotland, none in Wales. Their current 166 mps are returned largely from the Tory heartlands, the shires and southern suburbs. Nowhere else in Europe has a governmental party of the Right undergone such a fall. It is this debacle that has been the precondition for the past seven years of New Labour’s uncontested rule—its weightless hegemony.

Behind this role reversal in the political system lie the social and economic changes wrought by two decades of full-tilt neoliberal reform. Historically, the roots of Conservative dominance can be traced to the peculiar configuration of English capital as it emerged in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when a landed aristocracy, undergirded by a wealthy, London-based merchant layer, became Europe’s premier capitalist class and commander of an expanding overseas empire. The northern industrial manufacturers, coming into their own during the very decades when property-owning England froze at the spectre of revolution across the Channel, sought not to challenge this landowner-led bloc but to join its ranks. The capitalist-aristocracy’s state—the sovereign crown-in-parliament at its core—was preserved in all its archaic essentials down to the end of the nineteenth century, accumulating an increasingly powerful array of hegemonic institutions: Crown and Dominions, Whitehall and Westminster, the City, law courts and armed services, universities and public schools. It proved fully capable of absorbing the impact of universal suffrage. Consistent with the internal logic of this established order, it was the Conservatives, with their resolutely imperial and landed background, rather than the Liberals, more closely linked to towns and industry, that emerged as the unitary party of capital necessitated by the first-past-the-post system, once the working class had achieved its own representation with the birth of Labour. Masters of the national statecraft, the Conservatives were, for most of the twentieth century, the natural political voice of the Establishment.

By the 1960s this hegemonic bloc had presided, with brief Labour interludes, over nearly a century of decline from Britain’s imperial zenith. The ‘audit’ of the Second World War had revealed a creaking and outmoded manufacturing base, archaized through lack of investment, while the City, with Bank of England and Treasury support, sought higher returns abroad. Lend-Lease locked the uk into propitiatory debt dependence on Washington. For a decade or more after 1945 the extent of the slippage was masked, as the slow rebuilding of war-shattered economies in Europe and Japan allowed Britain to bask in relative superiority, while Churchill fought to cling on to the remains of empire. Elsewhere, old elites were destroyed and renewed in the fires of war and us occupation; here the traditional order, propped up by victory, continued to preside. Finally in the 1960s with the colonies all but gone and the new challenge of the European Community on the horizon, the symptoms of stagnation became impossible to ignore.