Part two of a two part article analysing Conservatism in the U.K. in the medium term.

There is a quietly growing temptation within Conservative circles to believe that renewal might come not through unity, but through separation. Let the hard right go, the thinking runs. Let the most ideologically driven MPs, the culture-war entrepreneurs and permanent insurgents, drift over to Reform. Once they are gone, the Conservative Party can finally stop arguing with itself and start sounding like a government again.

In this version of events, Reform ends up holding the baby. All the anger, all the absolutism, all the promises that only work so long as nobody has to implement them. The Conservatives, relieved of the need to placate a faction that thrives on opposition, are left with something closer to a centre-right governing party. Sober, technocratic, mildly unexciting. In other words, electable.

It is an attractive theory. It also carries far more risk than many of its advocates are willing to admit.

The case for letting the far right peel away is rooted in the damage the Conservative brand has suffered over the past decade. This is no longer simply about policy disagreement. It is about credibility. After fourteen years in office, the party is widely seen as chaotic, emotionally volatile and prone to promising things it knows it cannot deliver. Much of that impression has been reinforced by a wing of the party that treats compromise as weakness and governing constraints as proof of betrayal.

Remove that faction and something important changes. A Conservative Party no longer constantly looking over its shoulder could talk about the economy without indulging in unfunded tax fantasies. It could talk about immigration without theatrical cruelty or legal brinkmanship. It could stop flirting with withdrawal from international frameworks it has no realistic intention of leaving, and start presenting itself once more as a steward of institutions rather than their sworn enemy.

That kind of party would not excite. But it might begin, slowly, to rebuild trust.

The assumption underpinning this strategy is that Reform, emboldened by defecting MPs, would ultimately be exposed by proximity to responsibility. Protest parties flourish in opposition because they are never forced to reconcile slogans with consequences. Give Reform a parliamentary cohort with ministerial experience and suddenly the questions become unavoidable. How is this paid for? What happens when policy collides with the courts? How does Britain function the morning after the rhetoric ends?

In theory, Reform ends up louder but thinner, its appeal dulled by the realities of power. The Conservatives, meanwhile, recover their sense of seriousness.

The difficulty is that British elections are not won on theory. They are won under a first-past-the-post system that is unforgiving of fractured coalitions. The Conservative Party has never succeeded by being universally admired. It has succeeded by being the default option for a broad and often uneasy alliance of voters who see it as the least risky vehicle for government.

Split that alliance and the consequences are brutal. A centre-right Conservative Party polling in the mid-twenties might be more respectable than the version voters have rejected. It might even be quietly welcomed back into polite society. Under the electoral system, it would still lose heavily if Reform were taking a significant share of the vote in the same seats. Respectability does not translate into majorities. Arithmetic still matters.

This is where historical comparisons begin to mislead. There is a fond tendency to invoke the John Major era, a time when Conservatism felt quieter, less performative, more managerial. But Major governed at the end of a long period of Conservative dominance, with a Labour opposition still struggling to persuade voters it was ready for office. Neil Kinnock never governed, and by the time Labour finally won, it did so having reshaped itself almost beyond recognition.

A modern centre-right Conservative Party would be rebuilding from opposition in a far harsher environment. Labour today is not tentatively approaching power but settling into it. The media landscape is faster, angrier and less forgiving. The right is not unified but splintered, with Reform positioned not as a temporary irritant but as a permanent rival.

Competence alone will not be enough to overcome that. It may be necessary, but it is not sufficient.

Where a renewed Conservative Party could make genuine progress is not immediately at the ballot box, but in the public imagination. At present, many voters do not feel permitted to vote Conservative, even if they share some of its instincts. The party feels exhausting. Unstable. Locked in arguments that have little to do with their lives.

‘A post-exodus Conservative Party that quietly abandons legal grandstanding, accepts the basic architecture of the state, and speaks honestly about trade-offs would begin to change that perception. Slowly, it could restore the idea that voting Conservative is a responsible choice rather than an act of frustration.‘

But this is a long process. It requires a leader who looks credible rather than transitional. It requires policies designed to work rather than to signal. It requires, above all, time in opposition that is used productively rather than resentfully.

The greatest risk is that Reform does not implode on schedule. It may not collapse under the weight of responsibility. It may instead harden into a durable political identity, one that no longer sees itself as a protest but as a cause. At that point, the right does not realign. It divides permanently, leaving the Conservatives facing a choice between accommodation and irrelevance.

So could a renewed centre-right Conservative Party thrive after a far-right exodus, leaving Reform holding the baby? Eventually, perhaps. But not quickly, and not without pain.

Letting Reform take responsibility may expose its limitations. It may also entrench a split that keeps Labour in power for a generation. Renewal, if it comes, will be slow, disciplined and unglamorous. It will require the Conservatives to accept a deeply unfashionable truth.

Growing up in politics often means losing first, and learning while others govern. The question is whether the party has the patience, and the nerve, to endure that process rather than reach again for the comfort of noise.