A brief lesson in governments of national unity, and why they won’t solve Brexit
A struggling pound, a Labour leader at odds with his backbenches, and a government trying to pursue multiple contradictory aims.
It may sound like last week, but it was in fact the state of things in 1931.
The answer, echoed by some today, was a government of national unity – elements of the three main parties brought together to form a majority.
With Britain suffering from the aftershocks of the Great Depression, unemployment was rising and there was a run on the pound. The Labour minority government fell into turmoil, unable to agree on the need to cut public expenditure, with the left-wing faction and unions withdrawing support from Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald.
Unable to find a way through the crisis with backing from his own ranks, MacDonald sought support for his rump of MPs in the opposition, teaming up with the Conservative party and as many Liberals as he could tempt across the chamber.
The Tories pushed for an election, where the national unity ticket took 67 per cent of the vote and all but 61 seats in the Commons.
For the next four years, Britain was overseen by a cabinet comprised of representatives of the three main parties. Cabinet posts were carefully divvied up according to both numbers and influence, and the government held – despite disagreements over free trade and tariffs (plus ca change), which saw a temporary suspension of collective cabinet responsibility.
MacDonald resigned as Prime Minister in 1935 owing to ill-health. Despite being the first Labour Prime Minister, his time in the national government would see him disowned by the movement. A historian described him as “the unacknowledged precursor of the Blairs”, a turn of phrase that may be either compliment or insult, while Michael Palin once portrayed him as a stripper in women’s underwear.
MacDonald gave way to Stanley Baldwin, the leader of the Conservative party. He maintained the coalition, and led it into a second election. Though the national government lost seats (MacDonald’s national Labour group was reduced to just eight MPs), the coalition remained in power.
The government spent much of its time on foreign affairs in support of the League of Nations, and was seen by many as a rather listless ministry. Much of its political capital at home was spent trying to navigate the Abdication Crisis.
In 1937, Neville Chamberlain was appointed as Prime Minister, continuing to lead the coalition. His time was dominated by responding to the rise of Hitler, but the government did manage a number of domestic changes, including introducing mandatory paid holiday for workers and a programme of slum clearance.
With the coming of war, the national government was suspended, replaced by a true grand coalition which lasted for the duration – first under Chamberlain and then Churchill.
In 1945, an election followed and the Labour party which had ousted MacDonald over a decade before formed a majority of its own. Never again would the parties come together in the same way – until, perhaps, now.
What does this tell us about today’s parliamentary predicament? The precedent for a national government is there, but it is hard to see what it means for Brexit.
Each of the above governments had a clear and natural leader, a strong commons majority, and an agreed upon plan for governing. It looks unlikely that the various factions of parliament could manage any of those right now, riven as they are by both petty jealousies and significant ideological disagreements.
Indeed, with the public equally split on the Brexit spectrum, it is unclear where any unity at all might come from. The thought of an acclaimed champion uniting the warring tribes against a common enemy is perhaps born more of hope and desperation than expectation.
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