The growing mystery of a coup without a conspiracy

Last week’s display of virtuosity by Michael Howard was immaculate, ruthless, perfectly executed: high politics at its purest and most beautiful. His clarity of vision, contemptuous facing down of opposition, cunning, efficiency, resolve, above all the compression of eight weeks’ weary business into 90 minutes’ decisive action, combined to clear the battlefield with a single strike. Nothing as Napoleonic in audacity or scope has been seen at Westminster since Tony Blair’s seizure of the commanding heights of the Labour party ten years ago.

This was one of those extremely rare occasions when the political correspondent really needs the skills of the art critic. The only proper initial emotion was awe and wonderment: just as Ruskin felt when he first saw Venice. In due course, however, the intellect must come into play, and seek to make sense of the events that stretch so sleekly across the surface. As things stand, last week’s important, perhaps conclusive, turnaround in Conservative party fortunes is unexplained.