In conversation with Dr Colm Murphy: one year of Labour, decline of the Conservative party, value of understanding political history

Welcome to our Dods Research interview series. This is where we talk with leading academics in the UK about their area of expertise and what they can tell us about UK politics. As part of our Dods Research collaboration with Queen Mary University of London, our latest interview features Dr Colm Murphy, Lecturer in British Politics, and it covers topics including one year of Labour, the decline of the Conservative Party, and the value of understanding political history.

Joshua Wells: It’s tempting, in real time, to believe that any political moment we’re living through is somehow unique. Would you say the current situation in British politics is unique? 

Colm Murphy: Every historical conjuncture has its peculiarities and particularities. So yes, there’s always something unique about the moment we’re in. But there are also parallels. And if you’re careful, you can draw them—because different aspects of our current politics have echoes in Britain’s political history, particularly across the 20th century and even into the late 19th. 

Take, for instance, the shift away from globalisation and the challenge to free trade—both globally and in specific bilateral relationships like that between the US and China. That dilemma is clearly shaping decisions for the current UK government. In a fragmenting world, they have to ask: should we align more closely with a protectionist United States? Or with the European Union—an entity we’ve had significant political tensions with, especially during and after the Brexit years? 

You can trace similar dilemmas back to the late 19th and early 20th centuries—the last time the UK diverged from globalisation. From the mid-19th century to the late 19th, Britain was one of the world’s most globalised economies, as well as being an empire. But during that later period, other comparable nations took more protectionist industrialising paths: Bismarck’s Germany, the United States. They did so to industrialise or to appease domestic protectionist lobbies. The UK resisted for a time, but eventually followed suit—culminating in the Ottawa Conference of the early 1930s. 

So yes, you can find parallels for most things. What might be new, though, is the specific combination of issues we face today. Protectionism is re-emerging, but it’s converging with a legitimacy crisis in our political system and with a transformation in how citizens engage with those in power. This is the age of social media, not the age of the public meeting.

So, as is often the case, the answer is a complicated mix: there are historical parallels, but it’s the specific configuration of issues that makes our moment unique. You can draw on history—but you should do so with caution. 

Joshua Wells: I see your point about the tone of caution when drawing comparisons. So, sticking with your example of trade and globalisation: if I were trying to map out these kinds of parallels, how would you suggest approaching it?

Colm Murphy: Historical understanding is valuable because it shows how political actors have dealt with similar dilemmas in the past. But it also serves to denaturalise things that can seem fixed or inevitable in politics. 

More things are malleable than we often assume. The rules of the game can change, and history demonstrates that. But you also need to pay attention to differences as well as similarities, or you risk drawing the wrong lessons. 

To stick with the trade example: the movement from globalisation to a more fragmented, nationalist world in the early 20th century, and then the post-war return to globalisation, should remind us not to take the liberal trade order for granted. 

Even Britain’s identity as a ‘free trading nation’ needs qualifying. After the Second World War, the Labour government operated within a highly controlled economic system, with quotas and strong support for domestic industry. Despite the creation of GATT, it took decades to reach the level of trade liberalisation we now recognise. 

So history can remind us that UK governments can intervene in trade—and that doing so may or may not align with their political goals. Economists will warn of the dangers of zero-sum logic—that everyone can lose—but protectionist policies often benefit producers over consumers and the former tend to have more concentrated and targeted political voice (see the farmers last year).

But here’s the key difference with the past I am discussing: the last time Britain engaged in a wider protectionist shift, it was a global superpower. It had a vast empire, major territorial holdings across South Asia and Australasia, and the City of London sat at the centre of the global financial system. 

That’s not the case today. The UK must be clear-eyed about how much relative power it now holds. So yes, trade interventions are possible—and that may well be the direction of travel for parties across the political spectrum. But they need to reckon with how today’s circumstances differ from those of the 1930s. 

So, history teaches us that what feels natural—like globalisation—is anything but. Yet the way the UK navigates this world must necessarily differ. The country has decolonised. The City is still important, but Wall Street is now dominant. Britain is no longer a leading industrial exporter; it exports services. That all implies significant strategic and political change. 

Joshua Wells: How would you say this first year compares to previous Labour governments’ early years? Can we meaningfully understand these past 11 months as a ‘Labour project’? 

Colm Murphy: A notable feature of this government is that there’s clear internal dissent over what a Labour government should be doing – within both the government and the wider Labour Party. A lot of this is fairly predictable, given Labour’s historically rooted values and instincts, which often sit uneasily with the current macroeconomic and social policy challenges. 

We should caveat this by recognising that Labour has always struggled in a relatively hostile media environment, coverage has been quite negative, and that will exacerbate this sense of division. True, print media is weaker now—fewer people read newspapers—but broadcast media still tends to take its cues from the press. So Labour remains at a disadvantage.

 And recent media shifts haven’t necessarily helped Labour either. Social media, with its fragmented information bubbles, creates a kind of hyper-politics. People focus intensely on particular issues, and they often form political identities or tribes—but these don’t map neatly onto political parties. 

That’s quite different from, say, the Daily Mirror era—a Labour-supporting tabloid that might criticise a Labour government, but still rooted its readers in a particular cultural and political world. Today, an engaged voter who shares Instagram stories about Gaza may well have voted Labour—but that relationship is far more conditional now, particularly in cultural terms. There’s a long-running pattern of Labour struggling to communicate its message effectively—and that’s exacerbated by the current context.

With this kind of internal strategic disagreement, I’d say this government is more reminiscent of Harold Wilson’s than Tony Blair’s. There’s no single dominant ideological faction. What we do have is a clear anti-Corbynite faction, an outcome of the late 2010s. 

The Labour right and soft left, which are admittedly imprecise terms, coalesced around Keir Starmer in 2020. And once he was elected, most Corbyn supporters left the party, some voluntarily, others not. But the problem is that anti-Corbynism was the glue holding that coalition together—and now that glue has dissolved. They’re governing, and suddenly the internal contradictions are becoming clear. 

You’ve got retired public sector workers—long-time Labour members who care deeply about poverty. Their priorities are clashing with urban thirtysomethings who are focused on housebuilding but accept fiscal constraints. And both are in tension with activists passionate about foreign policy and aid. Then there are councillors in Reform-curious constituencies, having regular conversations about immigration. 

So the coalition is fraying. And that reminds me of the internal struggles Labour faced under Wilson—both in 1964–70 and again in the mid-70s under Wilson and then Callaghan

To some extent, that tension is natural. But the absence of a clear, dominant faction makes the government’s direction feel incoherent—and that’s showing up in how it’s being received. 

Joshua Wells: You mentioned Harold Wilson, is it normal for Labour Governments to struggle this early into their term in power?

Colm Murphy: I think the speed of the current situation is what’s unusual. 

Typically, Labour governments run into problems mid-term. Take the 1967 devaluation under Wilson, or the Attlee government’s sterling crisis in 1947, followed by devaluation in 1949. The point is, the trouble came later in the parliamentary term. 

Under Wilson in 1967, things began to unravel—especially economically—and conflict within the party escalated. Again in 1974, things were immediately tricky due to the oil crisis, but serious internal conflict crystallised in 1975–76. 

Joshua Wells: We’re in a rare moment: a relatively young political party—Reform UK—is doing unusually well for its age. They’ve now got five MPs, and the Conservative Party is polling at around 20 percent. What does history tell us about how young or insurgent parties tend to fare in British politics?

Colm Murphy: Historically, it’s exceedingly difficult for new political parties to break through Britain’s electoral system. But not impossible. The Labour Party itself succeeded due to specific historical contingencies such as trade union dissatisfaction with the Liberals, internal Liberal Party splits during World War I, and a growing industrial working class seeking political representation. Labour’s strategic agreement with Liberals allowed early parliamentary representation, helping cement its presence.

Yet many new parties have failed dramatically, including Change UK and even UKIP, despite influencing major policies like Brexit. Success requires multiple aligning factors, including an underrepresented constituency, strategic political positioning, structural societal changes, and favourable historical contingencies.

Reform UK’s current success benefits from mainstream party legitimacy crises, economic pressures, and voter dissatisfaction, creating opportunities for electoral gains. However, its volatility as a new political force remains a significant obstacle, as evidenced by recent resignations and internal spats. Under the UK’s first-past-the-post electoral system, significant breakthroughs demand highly favourable conditions. Historical patterns indicate that sustained success necessitates effective leadership, organisational cohesion, and timely exploitation of opportunities presented by the established parties’ weaknesses.

Historically, once a new party surpasses an established party, the older party rarely recovers fully, as seen with the Liberal Party’s decline post-Labour’s rise. Therefore, Reform UK’s challenge remains substantial but not impossible, depending largely on how successfully they capitalise on current political volatility and sustain internal coherence and effective strategic positioning.

Joshua Wells: In one sense, it feels almost unthinkable to imagine the decline of the Conservative Party—once described as the ‘natural party of government’. But if the Liberal Party could all but disappear, then surely no party is immortal in British politics. Is there a genuine risk that the Conservatives could face a similar fate?

Colm Murphy: We can consider it, yes, and it isn’t impossible. But you’re right to be cautious. I’m not yet convinced it’s going to happen.

The main reason is that I continue to lean on historical patterns, though, as we’ve just discussed, history can change. That’s one of its key lessons: you should constantly revisit your assumptions and avoid treating them as natural laws.

That said, there is a strong historical pattern. The Conservative Party is a shapeshifter par excellence. It has long been one of the most adept political machines when it comes to reinvention.

When the Tory party first emerged—if we can even use modern party terminology that far back—its core aim was defending the monarch against an assertive parliament. Later, it stood for protecting the established Church and defending the Empire against a Liberal Party that favoured recognising nonconformist Protestants and was more sceptical about imperialism.

It was the party of tariffs in the late 19th and early 20th centuries—protectionism versus liberal free trade. None of that really matters to today’s Conservative Party. Instead, it reinvented itself:  it embraced property-owning democracy, became the party of Macmillan—and then, under Thatcher, redefined itself again by engaging with neoliberal ideas and trying to unshackle the market from what it saw as the constraints of social democracy.

And, as we discussed earlier, it successfully co-opted UKIP’s agenda. Brexit may have broken the party in some respects—it certainly hasn’t played out as they’d hoped—but the party did adapt.

The party is also far less ideologically rigid than Labour. Even today, I think that holds true. The Conservatives are willing to go where the power is. That’s why you should never write them off, they’ve shown an extraordinary capacity for reinvention over a very long time.

That said, the Liberal Party should serve as a cautionary tale. Reinvention isn’t automatic, it takes agency. The Conservatives need to recognise where their voters are and where they’re drifting. And they’ll need a bit of luck too.

At the moment, it looks like their vote is split between people curious about the Lib Dems and those leaning towards Reform. That’s a sharp strategic dilemma.

To recover, they’d need a political context in which they can rebuild a coalition that appeals to both camps, and crucially, still be seen as the party capable of replacing Labour. That’s the path forward, if there is one.

Joshua Wells: So far, we’ve spoken to people who take a political science approach. They’ve told us how valuable quantitative methods can be in engaging with public policy campaigns. You, of course, use a different set of tools to understand politics. So let’s imagine a reader is looking to get involved in a public policy campaign—what kinds of methods does political history offer to people in that position?

Colm Murphy: First, I should say I work closely with political scientists of that sort, and I find their work incredibly rich—it often helps contextualise my own. I’ve referred to a couple of their insights in this conversation already.

But yes, my approach is different. In terms of how I gather data, I often describe myself as working like a detective. Instead of formulating hypotheses and testing them against cases in a more formal, theoretical way, I follow leads through the archive. That’s my method: following the trail of evidence.

And I think that’s a familiar approach for many of your readers—authors, journalists, researchers. We just do it more intensively. We dig into archives, trace narratives, uncover contradictions—really interrogate the material.

So what does that offer public policy? I’d say the main contribution is perspective. The kind of perspective we started this conversation with: an awareness that things which now seem ‘natural’ were, in fact, the result of particular conditions.

History shows you what it takes for things to change—how structural shifts and contingent events combine to open up new possibilities. I think that perspective is useful for anyone working in public policy because it forces you to ask critical questions about the presumptions underpinning your campaign. That’s the core of what I try to offer.

There’s also a place—if you’re careful—for advocacy. You can look back at previous attempts at a similar policy, see what worked, and offer that as insight. Of course, you need to caveat that—explain what’s changed and why the past isn’t a direct blueprint—but the historical examples can still inform your case.

For example, I’ve recently worked with Patrick Diamond to advocate certain approaches to taxation. We’ve looked at historical moments when Labour governments faced tight fiscal dilemmas and came under pressure from markets.

Our view, based on those cases, is that such dilemmas were handled in multiple ways—often with a mix of spending control and revenue-raising measures. So we use that history to say: yes, your situation is difficult, but here’s how others have navigated it before.

So, the main value is that deep, long-range perspective that comes from doing historical detective work. But, done carefully, it can also buttress policy advocacy, rooted in real precedent.

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