It was a humbling end for the Blair family. Because their beds and most of
their possessions had been taken away by the removal men, the prime minister
and his wife had to share an old mattress for their last night in Downing
Street on Tuesday.
Their four children fared even worse: each had to make do with sleeping bags
on the floor.
Before dossing down they shared an Indian takeaway – eaten out of foil boxes
because there were no plates. Nor were there any glasses from which to drink
the tepid white wine they had found in the No 10 cellar, so they made do
with plastic cups from the press office water cooler.
“How things had changed from the glorious summer days of 1997,” said a family
friend. “There was no bitterness; just a recognition that politics was a
brutal business and their time had come and gone.”
While the Blairs were munching on their bhajis and chicken tikka masala,
Gordon Brown’s troops were already advancing on the Downing Street garden.
“Team Brown” was standing by to enter No 10 as the Blairs were preparing their
final goodbyes. One of Brown’s aides said: “While Cherie was taking down the
lamp-shades round the front, we were going in the back.” Sue Nye, Brown’s
gatekeeper and the only Treasury official to gain access to recce the
offices at No 10 in advance, printed off the final cabinet list from her
computer and handed it to a handful of trusted advisers as the Blairs tried
to get to sleep.
Next morning the final meeting between Tony Blair and Gordon Brown as prime
minister and chancellor took barely 10 minutes. The two met alone: insiders
said it was perfunctory though not cold, each man wishing the other well.
“It was a bit like two people who have been married for 20 years deciding
that, after all the arguments, it was time to be friends again despite going
their separate ways,” said one insider. In contrast with past encounters,
those who stood outside the room reported no plates or four-letter words
being thrown.
It was a deceptively calm moment in what has turned out to be one of the most
tumultuous episodes in British politics. THIS weekend, as police hunt the
terrorists who attempted to confront the new prime minister with car bombs
in London, opinion polls suggest that the public has warmed to Brown more
wholeheartedly than political observers had predicted.
By contrast, David Cameron, the Tory leader, stands accused by Conservative
commentators of having woefully underestimated the acute political skills of
the man he has to defeat to become prime minister.
Is this just an exaggerated “Brown bounce”? Or does the new prime minister’s
storming start – appointing Britain’s first woman home secretary and the
youngest foreign secretary for 30 years, promoting Blairites, putting a
former Tory in his cabinet, bringing high-profile outsiders into the
government, and preparing to unveil important constitutional proposals this
week – bring with it a reassuring sense of purpose to voters rattled by the
car bombs? As Westminster starts to speculate on the date of a possible
election next year, what do the events and appointments of last week tell us
about the new prime minister and his ability to cope in time of crisis?
It had long been predicted that Brown was holding some surprises in store for
his big moment. None, however, had suggested that the permatanned face and
high Tory vowels of Quentin Davies, the MP for Grantham, Margaret Thatcher’s
birthplace, would feature among his coups de théâtre.
This quintessentially old-school Conservative was pulled out of the hat by
Brown on Tuesday as a defector to Labour.
It was a classic dirty trick that caused consternation in the Tory party.
Brown’s people took over the media handling of the defection. They were also
said to be behind the staging of the defector’s appearance on the Labour
benches in the Commons at Blair’s final question time on Wednesday.
“The whole thing was incredibly carefully planned by Gordon’s people,” said an
insider. “An advance party went into the chamber early to bag Quentin a
seat. The idea was that he should be sitting behind Blair, in perfect view
of the cameras. Two Labour MPs from constituencies near his escorted him
into the Commons. Quentin went along with everything he was told to do.”
As he took up his new seat on the Labour benches, Davies was under orders to
kiss his neighbour, the Colne Valley MP Kali Mountford, on the cheek. The
gesture sparked cheering and roaring from the Labour and Liberal Democrat
benches.
Tory backbenchers remained po-faced. They had received a message from their
chief whip on their pagers. “MPs are asked to maintain a dignified silence
when Quentin Davies enters the chamber,” it read.
Nevertheless, Davies’s defection, hot on the heels of the Tory chaos over
grammar schools, has left Cameron’s party in high twitch. Some fear that his
devastating four-page resignation letter will haunt them for months, if not
years. Davies wrote to Cameron: “Under your leadership the Conservative
party appears to me to have ceased collectively to believe in anything, or
to stand for anything. It has no bedrock. It exists on shifting sands. A
sense of mission has been replaced by a PR agenda.”
One senior Tory strategist said balefully: “There are phrases in there that we
know are going to be used against us, again and again. What makes the whole
thing so infuriating, is that it just doesn’t make sense. There is no logic
in Davies swapping sides. He is a socially conservative retard, appallingly
illiberal. He is a bucket of bile. Nicho-las Soames is probably more
liberal. Why would someone like that join Labour?”
Not all the Tories could contain their anger. Davies received a dressing-down
from the normally reserved, fellow pro-European Alistair Burt, who told him:
“You are dishonest. You are a wretched man. You are a wretched 24-hour hero.”
Davies replied: “Don’t be stupid.” Other MPs stepped in to break up the
argument.
All this politicking did not spoil Blair’s big moment, however. His final
appearance at prime minister’s questions was a sell-out, with standing room
only for scores of MPs. Some backbenchers even began queuing at 8am to
secure passes for their researchers to watch the historic event from the
public gallery.
For their efforts they were rewarded with a classic performance of Blairite
emotional intensity. He had tried to think of something memorable to say,
but he and his advisers decided it was best for him “to improvise”. In the
event, after making a few jokes about receiving his P45, Blair drew his
premiership to a close with a sad, downward glance (à la Diana) and the
words: “That’s that. The end.”
It was enough to squeeze even Tory hearts. Cameron signalled his followers to
join Labour in a standing ovation that breached parliamentary rules. BLAIR
returned briefly to Downing Street where staff also gave him an emotional
farewell, fuelled by champagne. Pat McFadden, his former political adviser
and now a minister, had helped organise the party, with those “most likely
to shed tears” being shipped in, according to insiders.
While Blair tendered his resignation to the Queen, Brown waited nervously in
the Treasury for his own call from Bucking-ham Palace. Finally summoned at
1.45pm, he was not content with receiving the seals of office but embarked
on a briefing session, informing the Queen of all the constitutional changes
he expects to make, including the removal of some of the “prerogative
powers” undertaken by the government in her name.
Back at No 10 champagne bottles were still lying around when Brown’s entourage
entered by the back door. While No 10 staff cleared up, Brown’s office sent
round an e-mail: “Meet in the Pillared Room in five minutes to welcome the
new prime minister.”
About 100 No 10 civil servants gathered. One woman was still wiping away her
tears for Blair when the new prime minister stepped up to the plate.
Standing incongruously on a red leather footstool, he gave a short but
rousing speech on the
need for change. There was no sign of the ghost rumoured to haunt the room.
Staff tend to avoid going in that part of Downing Street after dark as there
have been sightings of a phantom wearing pearls and a long dress.
“Cherie’s long gone now and is not coming back,” joked one Brown aide. THE new
prime minister adopted an idiosyncratic approach to the completion of his
government, finessing the ministerial shake-up down to the last detail.
Instead of studying the typed sheets of names and phone numbers that were
always handed to his predecessor, Brown took off his jacket, rolled up his
sleeves and huddled with his key advisers, plus Gus O’Donnell, the cabinet
secretary, over two large magnetic boards that had been clumsily taped
together.
They scribbled down the names of potential ministers on magnetic strips and
fixed them to the boards, seeking to bring order to the complex
rearrangement of Whitehall departments that Brown was carrying out.
“It was very Gordon, very hands-on,” said one of the advisers. “The whole
thing felt a bit like one of those military operations where counters are
moved into position on a map."
This took place in the former office of Ruth Turner, the Blair aide who was
arrested over the cash for honours affair. The room, next to the prime
minister’s study, is windowless and bland, containing little more than a few
desks and computers – also “very Gordon”.
He broke with tradition by appointing his new cabinet from his office in the
House of Commons, thus avoiding the “walk of shame” up Downing Street for
those who were sacked.
Those ministers who were being fired were informed first.
“The longer you didn’t get the call to come and see Gordon, the more hopeful
you could get that you were still in a job,” said one who did well.
Departing cabinet ministers such as Patricia Hewitt and Margaret Beckett
noticed a new style when they were asked to quit. In contrast to Blair,
Brown was upfront when it came to the difficult job of saying goodbye.
Phil Woolas, local government minister under Blair, found his departmental
pass had already been cancelled when he turned up to clear his desk. Luckily
for him, he later discovered he had been appointed a minister at the
environment department.
Many of the faces in the top jobs in the new cabinet are familiar. But Jacqui
Smith, the new home secretary, was largely unknown to the public –
until Friday’s car bombs thrust her onto television screens. Less than 24
hours after her appointment, the former chief whip found herself chairing
Cobra, the government’s crisis committee.
The appointment of the prominent young Blairite David Miliband as foreign
secretary was seen as a highly symbolic gesture by Brown. One insider said:
“The Brownites were really pissed off by David’s refusal to rule himself out
of entering the leadership contest for so long. He allowed the speculation
to go on. He just seemed to be relishing the attention. For him to land one
of the biggest jobs despite all that shows how serious Gordon is about being
inclusive.”
The prime minister is limited to 22 places around the cabinet table; money is
not available to make the cabinet any larger. Shaun Woodward, the former
Tory who defected to Labour in 1999, eased the cash squeeze by agreeing not
to draw a ministerial salary as the new Northern Ireland secretary. But as
the reshuffle developed it was clear that Brown was going to run out of
places.
It was hoped Yvette Cooper, the minister for housing, was going to have a
permanent seat at the table, but she had to make do with visiting rights.
Brown’s decision to break up and relabel some of the ministries, particularly
the Department for Education and Skills, led to some confusion over the
distribution of responsibilities. Further education, previously “owned” by
one department, is now shared by two.
A senior civil servant with intimate knowledge of the former department said:
“Inevitably some of the stakeholders will be confused. It means they have to
form new relationships and discard some old ones. Of course this split now
means that further education has two masters and that will have to be
resolved quickly. But I’m always amazed at the civil service’s ability to
quickly move from one thing to another.”
Significantly for parents, Brown has reappointed Blair’s education “guru”,
Lord Adonis, as a junior minister – an indication that the roll-out of
400 city academies will continue. THE new cabinet’s first meeting, on
Thursday afternoon, was a highly choreographed affair. Ministers queued up
in a “holding area” inside the gates of Downing Street, where they were put
into pairs, men with women, old faces with new.
“At one stage, I thought they’d hired the person from Strictly Come Dancing,”
said an aide who was watching. “They were all lined up, two by two, and
allowed to emerge only in strict order.”
A senior cabinet minister said: “I don’t think we’ll be doing that very often.”
The mood at the cabinet meeting, according to those who were there, was
“nervous and inhibited”. The thirtysomething “new bugs” in the cabinet,
James Purnell and Andy Burnham, “looked a bit like schoolboys starting big
school for the first time”.
One long-standing member of the top team said: “I looked down the table and
thought: who the f*** is that?”
There were cards with names at every seat but the newcomers could not find
their places because the tags had been placed upside-down. Drawing up the
seating plans, Brown’s aides judged who their boss would most want to be
able to see clearly. Those seated opposite and to the right of the
chancellor – who is blind in his left eye – will have an
advantage. The old Blairites tended to be placed out of sight.
Cabinet members were astonished at how relaxed and “humble” Brown was. “Maybe
he really does mean it when he talks about a new kind of politics,” said one
minister.
The first meeting was a formality, over quickly. By contrast, a second
meeting, on Friday, dragged on for nearly two hours, sparking grumbling from
some old hands.
“It went for ages,” said one of those present. “It was like a tour de table,
with every single person being called on to speak. I thought we’d never get
out of there. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
According to some insiders, the new spirit of freedom inspired some near
dissent over the constitutional reforms to be announced this week.
The new prime minister will tomorrow publish a fat document outlining new
powers for parliament, including the right to block troops going to war and
to recall the Commons during times of crisis; American-style “confirmation
hearings” for public appointments; and possibly a bill of rights.
Brown wants to reconnect voters to politics and to try to lance the boil of
Iraq. In Friday’s cabinet, however, questions were raised about the wisdom
of parliament having a veto on troop deployments. Troops sometimes have to
be deployed rapidly, said one minister, and it was no good letting
parliament call them back two weeks later.
The constitutional proposals might have less to do with practicalities and
more to do with Brown’s intellectual approach to government –
perhaps the biggest contrast between his premiership and Blair’s.
A few years ago, a senior Treasury civil servant was deputed to ensure that
everybody in the department understood that Brown’s policies were part of a
coherent intellectual framework.
Such things tick away loudly in his brooding brain. His flat in Westminster is
stacked with books. His conversations are more often about ideas than
policies. He will write down the names of books and authors during
conversations so that he can order them later.
His intellectual heroes include Gertrude Himmelfarb, champion of Britain’s
Victorian values and the Scottish enlightenment and wife of Irving Kristol,
father of America’s neoconservative movement. She is in her eighties but he
has offered to host a party at No 10 to launch her next book, if she can
make it to London.
Brown has long been an admirer of the richness of the intellectual debate in
America. Another influence is James Q Wilson, Ronald Reagan professor of
public policy at Pepperdine University, California.
Wilson’s writings are about how society has lost its moral sense, leading to a
breakdown of the family and a threat to cohesion.
The constitutional proposals reflect such concerns. A senior cabinet minister
said: “The trick here will be to try to explain how constitutional reform
improves people’s quality of life.”
Brown will find it harder to have free time for reading now he is in No 10,
but he believes the explosion in literary festivals means people in Britain
are genuinely interested in ideas again.
If that is true, he will be a prime minister for his time. But is it? Some
critics have suggested his engagement with ideas will hamper his ability to
act quickly in the confrontation with terrorism – and that the public
will become disillusioned with his performance.
His supporters point out, however, that, for all his intellectualism, he is
extremely adept at the low political arts. Not for nothing did Blair predict
that David Cameron would be smashed by Brown’s “big clunking fist”.
Labour strategists have deliberately caused taut nerves at Tory central office
by hinting that Brown could call a snap election. Privately, however, senior
Labour insiders say it is unlikely. “Nothing’s been ruled out, but at the
moment, we are just tweaking Cameron’s tail,” says a Brownite. “There’s no
harm in making the Tories sweat, and if the polls were putting us eight
points ahead next May, it’s conceivable we might call an election. But at
the moment, the plan is 2009 at the earliest.”
Two opinion polls yesterday show a significant “Brown bounce”. ICM for The
Guardian showed Labour seven points up on a month ago on 39%, and into a
four-point lead over the Tories on 35%.
YouGov in The Daily Telegraph also showed Labour up sharply, by five points,
putting the party on 38%, against 35% for the Conservatives. Both polls had
Labour in its strongest position since Cameron became party leader at the
end of 2005. They also showed that Brown’s personal ratings were
significantly better than Cameron’s, particularly on the key question of who
will make the best prime minister.
This week Cameron will reshuffle his own team, an operation he hopes will
inject new spirit into his demoralised troops. William Hague, the shadow
foreign secretary; George Osborne, the shadow chancellor, and David Davis,
the shadow home secretary, are all expected to remain in their posts.
According to insiders, Hague has been fretting that he might be moved to the
position of party chairman and has told Cameron that he would not accept the
post.
Liam Fox, the shadow defence secretary, has been long tipped for the sack but
is now expected to survive after Cameron and his inner circle concluded that
firing him would be more trouble than it was worth because of his following
among right wingers.
Cameron, having said he was longing for the day Brown took over, has found
himself on the back foot. In an interview yesterday he said the new prime
minister “is always producing initiatives, quite gimmicky initiatives, that
die before they get anywhere. I think people are quite sick of this kind of
McPolitics”.
Big Mac or Big Clunking Fist? Brown’s aides are openly trying to pursue a
strategy that combines a whirlwind of announcements with continuity,
stability and strength. Though nobody was making political capital out of
it, Brown’s calm handling of Friday’s attempted London bombings probably
helped his cause. It also suggests that luck is on his side – for now.
Where next for the ex-ministers?
JOHN PRESCOTT Former deputy prime minister Definitely won’t be:
honorary president of the Plain English Campaign Best prospect: Who better
to slip into the shoes of Bernard Manning with such lines as “The green belt
is a great achievement and we’re going to build on it.”
PATRICIA HEWITT Former health secretary Definitely won’t be: planning
any hospital treatment in the near future Best prospect: With her talent for
looking on the bright side, perhaps a career in weather forecasting? Under
Hewitt the Midlands would last week doubtless have had had the sunniest few
days since records began.
JOHN REID Former secretary of state for home affairs, defence, health,
etc Definitely won’t be: looking for a job for life Best prospect: Six
months as a security guard, a year as a hospital porter, couple of years as
a teacher . . .
Risk pays off for plotters who tried to topple Blair
Last autumn a cabal of junior government aides gambled their careers on a plot
to oust Tony Blair from office. They lost and quit their posts in September.
But for some, the risk paid off yesterday when Gordon Brown rewarded them with
new jobs.
Four key players in the coup – including the junior minister suspected of
masterminding the operation – are back in government.
Arch-Brownite Tom Watson, the junior defence minister who stepped down after
signing a round robin letter urging Blair to quit, is now a government whip.
He will work alongside two other junior government aides – Wayne David
and Mark Tami – who quit their jobs as parliamentary private
secretaries after adding their names to the letter. They have been made
assistant whips.
A fourth plotter who quit his job last autumn, Iain Wright, has been made a
junior communities minister.
However, two other key figures in the coup, Sion Simon and Chris Bryant, were
left disappointed after failing to secure ministerial jobs.
The whips office, headed by Geoff Hoon, has been significantly expanded, and
includes the ultra-Blairite Siobhain McDonagh, former PPS to John Reid, the
previous home secretary. The Muslim MP Sadiq Khan, who has frequently
criticised the government over civil liberties, also joins the whips
operation.
Other surprise appointments to junior ministerial roles were Barbara Follett,
wife of bestselling novelist Ken Follett; and Joan Ruddock, who chaired the
CND in the early 1980s.
Just on the mini-coup, which was so derided last year: when an overweight figure is leaning for a fall, it only takes the tip of a finger to knock him over. In that sense it was brilliant.
Feargal Mooney, London,