Neil Shastri-Hurst: The vital importance of Conservative stewardship in age of upheaval

Dr Neil Shastri-Hurst is Member of Parliament for Solihull West & Shirley

In recent months I have returned to the writings of those thinkers who have most shaped the conservative tradition in our country – from Edmund Burke and David Hume to Michael Oakeshott and Roger Scruton.

Though they wrote in different centuries, with different preoccupations, what unites them is a vision of politics that is at once humble, humane, and deeply anchored in reality.

That vision, I would argue, remains the answer to the problems we face today.

Conservatism has never been about the pursuit of utopia or the thrill of disruption.

Burke taught us that society is not a contract struck between individuals in the present moment, but a partnership across the generations – the living, the dead, and the yet unborn.  Hume, with his sceptical eye, reminded us that custom, not abstract reason, is the true glue of civilisation.  Oakeshott, writing in the last century, insisted that government is not an engine for grand designs but a steady ship, steering carefully through uncertain waters.  And Scruton, in more recent times, reminded us that the things which matter most – home, beauty, belonging – are fragile and must be cherished.

Together they teach us something vital: that the conservative temperament is not hostile to change, but wary of reckless change; not opposed to ambition, but mistrustful of schemes that uproot without regard for what has been built before.  Conservatism in this lineage is the politics of stewardship.  It conserves what is good, reforms what is failing, and resists both the complacency that says nothing must ever alter and the radicalism that says everything must be torn down.

This distinction matters, no more so because we live in an age when anger and impatience are easily mistaken for principle.  Populism flatters us with simple slogans: that the people’s will is self-evident, that institutions are corrupt, that solutions lie in sweeping away the old order and starting again.  However, history tells a different story.  Burke saw in the French Revolution what happens when societies pursue purity through upheaval: traditions destroyed, freedoms extinguished, and, in place of liberty, the guillotine.  Oakeshott warned of the “rationalist” illusion that politics can be built on abstract designs.  Scruton cautioned that when we disdain our inheritance we impoverish ourselves.

Radicalism always promises renewal; more often it leaves wreckage.

Conservatism, by contrast, begins with gratitude.

It recognises that we are the beneficiaries of centuries of accumulated wisdom.  Our common law, our parliamentary democracy, our civic institutions – none of these were invented overnight.  They emerged slowly, through trial and error, shaped by experience, tempered by custom.  That is why Hume wrote that we owe more to habit and convention than to reason alone.  It is also why conservatives resist the temptation to treat society as a blank slate on which to scrawl new doctrines.

We know that if we squander what we have inherited, it may never return.

This does not mean resignation in the face of challenge.  Britain in 2025 faces profound tests. Our young people struggle to find homes of their own.  New technologies are transforming the world of work.  Our Armed Forces confront threats from an increasingly unstable globe.  The NHS strains under pressure.  And immigration, too, poses a defining test.  Managed well, it can enrich our country; but if left unchecked or poorly integrated, it risks straining public services, undermining trust, and weakening the bonds of cohesion on which our national life depends.

Here Burke’s insight into the “little platoons” of society is crucial.

For it is in family, neighbourhood, parish, and voluntary associations that integration truly takes root.  Immigration policy must therefore be about more than numbers; it must be about sustaining the institutions and local loyalties that allow newcomers to become part of the national fabric.  The conservative instinct is neither to close the door in fear, nor to open it without thought, but to shape immigration so that it serves the common good – strengthening rather than eroding the inheritance we pass on.

Housing illustrates the point.  The populist instinct is to shout for mass building at any cost, or to dismiss the concerns of those communities who feel threatened by insensitive development.  The conservative instinct is different.  It seeks balance: more homes, yes – but homes that respect the fabric of neighbourhoods, strengthen ownership, and foster pride.  Burke spoke of society as a contract between generations; in housing, that means ensuring the rising generation has a stake in ownership without tearing up the landscapes and traditions that give us identity.

Technology, too, poses a test.  Artificial intelligence is advancing rapidly, promising enormous benefits but also unsettling consequences for work, privacy, and human dignity.  The populist impulse is either to embrace the revolution blindly or to resist it with fear.  The conservative instinct is more measured.  Scruton reminded us that technology must serve human ends, not the other way round.  A prudent government will harness innovation, but also set boundaries where dignity or security are at risk.

In this way, change is guided rather than allowed to run riot.

Defence policy provides another example.  Britain cannot afford illusions when our allies face threats in Europe and the Indo-Pacific.  The populist temptation is to promise everything at once: new fleets, new aircraft, new technologies, without regard to hard choices.  A conservative approach is steadier.  It invests where our experience tells us strength is needed; it values alliances like NATO that have proved their worth; it honours regimental traditions even as it embraces new capabilities. Oakeshott would say that defence policy is not a blueprint but a navigation through risk – always anchored in what history has shown to endure.

The same principles apply to the economy.  Populists offer easy answers: cut this tax overnight, pour money into that scheme, punish this or that institution.  But conservatives know that prosperity is built on confidence, and confidence is built on stability.  Families cannot plan, and businesses cannot invest, when governments lurch from one ideological experiment to another.  The surest route to growth is to provide stable institutions, predictable rules, and a culture that rewards enterprise while safeguarding fairness.  Hume’s scepticism, Burke’s prudence, Oakeshott’s modesty, Scruton’s defence of belonging – all point towards an economy rooted not in dreams of transformation, but in trust, continuity, and steady reform.

What unites all these examples is the conviction that politics is not about sweeping away; it is about tending carefully to what already exists. The populist wants to demolish the house and start afresh; the conservative wants to repair the roof, mend the walls, and leave it stronger for those who come after.  In Burke’s words, we are “temporary possessors and life-renters” of our inheritance, charged with preserving it.  This is not a counsel of caution but of courage – for it is easier to promise revolutions than to practise stewardship.

And here lies the opportunity for conservatism today.

In a world buffeted by rapid change, people long for stability.  They do not want to be treated as pawns in ideological battles.  They want a politics that respects their communities, protects their freedoms, secures their futures, and passes on the best of Britain to their children.  That is what conservatism, at its truest, offers.  It is not the noisy populism of the street corner, nor the sterile rationalism of the seminar room, but the quiet conviction that we are guardians of something precious.

The conservative vision for Britain in 2025 should be clear.

It is a vision of homes built with care, communities strengthened rather than weakened, technology harnessed for human good, Armed Forces that draw on tradition even as they innovate, and an economy rooted in stability and trust.  That means upholding the integrity of our civic life, making sure that immigration does not outpace our ability to integrate, and that newcomers respect and uphold the traditions that give Britain its character.  It is a vision that distinguishes between responsible reform and reckless upheaval, between real progress and false promises.

Above all, it is a vision that recognises, with Burke, that we have obligations to those who came before us and those who will come after.

Oakeshott once wrote that the conservative prefers “present laughter to utopian bliss”.  That is not cynicism.  It is wisdom.  It is the recognition that politics is not about chasing distant fantasies but about preserving and enhancing the conditions in which people can live contentedly in the here and now.  In that spirit, Scruton reminded us that beauty, tradition, and belonging are not luxuries but necessities; they anchor us when the world feels uncertain.

As Conservatives, we should not be tempted by the siren song of radicalism.

The challenges before us are real, but the answers lie not in tearing down our institutions or indulging in rash gestures.  They lie in returning to the principles that have guided us for centuries: prudence, stewardship, continuity, responsibility, and faith in the ordinary life of our people.

That is the politics our country needs.  That is conservatism at its best.