Fraser Nelson
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It is a sad reflection of the state of talent in the Labour party that, while one person is likely to stand to be the new Tony Blair, half a dozen want to be the new John Prescott. The race for Labour’s deputy leadership will probably begin in earnest on Monday — and the outcome will matter to Mr Brown not one jot. His de facto deputy will be the City minister, Ed Balls, his long-serving aide, intellectual alter ego and the author of many of his best ideas.
That said, the deputy leadership race will serve as a useful barometer of Labour’s survival instinct. There is a row of Cabinet candidates: Hilary Benn, Hazel Blears, Alan Johnson and Peter Hain. An ex-Cabinet minister: Harriet Harman. And one backbencher: Jon Cruddas, the Dagenham MP who has devoted his career to politics beyond the Westminster village. If the British National Party made no significant advances at the last week’s election, Labour has his campaigning to thank.
A plausible argument is advanced by Mr Cruddas’s supporters. Labour is becoming disconnected from its base and is in danger of becoming a ‘virtual party’ rather than a national movement. For example, last Thursday’s elections left Labour with no representation in 88 English local authorities. A political map of the wards shows not so much as a pinprick of red in most of the Southwest. So, to outsiders, the deputy leadership race will be a useful yardstick: if Labour chooses Mr Cruddas, it is prepared to confront this problem.
Rory Bremner recently observed that there are two people in British public life whose views on domestic politics are a mystery: the Queen and the Chancellor. Now that he faces no serious opponent himself, the deputy leadership race is Mr Brown’s best chance to end his pseudo-regal silence. When nominations close next Thursday, about four or five names are likely to go through. Eight hustings will follow, the first to be held on 20 May (it was moved from the 19th when it was pointed out that this clashed with the FA cup final — and party managers conceded that no one would turn up).
Assuming he addresses these events, it will be hard for Mr Brown to remain as Delphic as he has been, or to plead purdah (as his aides so often have). The Conservatives are convinced that he has a reserve of clever and politically powerful ideas, and will swap his statistical autobabble for a new style which will set the tone for his leadership. Interestingly, Mr Brown’s allies are urging caution — on policy, at least. He has been in power for ten years, they say: don’t expect a sudden revolution.
Which leaves us with old-fashioned machine politics, who’s up, who’s down, and personal positioning. Warned not to expect immediate fireworks to match the granting of independence to the Bank of England, Westminster is instead fixated upon Mr Brown’s coming reshuffle. Mr Reid rightly said that his departure has given Mr Brown ‘maximum flexibility’ so that every great office of state will soon be vacant. Margaret Beckett unwittingly ended what little chance she had of survival at the Foreign Office after releasing an 11-page summary of her achievements last month. It was a compendium of gimmicks and clichés, reinforcing how foreign policy has stalled under her tenure.
The Foreign Office believes that Jack Straw is campaigning to return there, payback for his role fronting Mr Brown’s leadership campaign (if it can really be called a campaign). David Miliband is being tipped for either the Home Office or the Foreign Office. No one with any ambition wants to be Mr Brown’s Chancellor — knowing that all the key spending decisions have been taken until April 2011. The Chancellor is likely to dismantle the power base he created — as Mr Blair tried and failed to do with the Treasury after the last election. The last thing Prime Minister Brown needs is his own overmighty Chancellor. If Gordon is the new Tony, there will be no new Gordon.
Mr Brown will by now have decided who to take with him to 10 Downing Street and what type of spin operation he will have. ‘The spin will be “no spin”,’ as one supporter puts it. But who will sell the human, sports-loving-man-of-the-people side to Mr Brown, as Charlie Whelan once did so well? Kevin Maguire, the respected Daily Mirror columnist, would be perfect for the job but is growing tired of ruling himself out. The top job will stay with Damian McBride — or ‘Damian McPoison’ as Peter Mandelson christened him.
This is already causing some controversy, as Mr McBride is known for being a little too enthusiastic in his pursuit of enemies, real or perceived. While tales of Alastair Campbell’s bullying were common coin in Fleet Street, tales of Mr McBride’s work tend to be less widely circulated. But one was made public on Tuesday night at the leaving party for Anthony Browne, who has just stepped down as chief political correspondent of the Times to run the Policy Exchang e think tank. It is a useful glimpse of the Chancellor’s tactics.
Mr Browne had asked for a Treasury comment on his paper’s scoop that the Chancellor had been warned in advance by officials about the damage his 1997 pensions fund raid would do. The reply came by text message from Mr McBride, and instantly presupposed a vendetta on Mr Browne’s part: ‘I suppose your, er, “new” Tory employers will be delighted so I can see why you personally are trying to turn it into something. Disgusting, really, for someone being paid by a so-called paper of record.’
A second text message followed. ‘I just wish for once you’d try to get past your cynical, Tory, halfwit Harold Lloyd schtick to try and be a genuine journalist. It’s presumably cos of your inability to do so that you’re off to earn a crust at some Tory think tank instead. Pathetic.’ As the bespectacled Mr Browne read all this out during his leaving speech there were intakes of breath, even among the journalist present. The era of hardball and spin is to outlive Mr Blair.
While charm may not be one of Mr McBride’s strong points, few dispute that he serves the Chancellor well. While he fires abuse at journalists he regards as dispensable, he is courteous and helpful to those with whom he has a relationship. You are in or out: nothing in between. There is no Big Tent with this spin doctor. ‘They may call him McPoison, but he is still a very effective operator,’ says one Westminster insider. And this is why he is likely to be at the centre of Mr Brown’s communications machine — though perhaps banned from electronic communication.
The larger challenge for Mr Brown will be one of personal presentation. He has stopped pretending to like pop music, but stories of his other-worldliness still fill newspaper columns. When he was recently sent to meet Jermaine Jackson, brother of Michael Jackson, he instead turned to the singer’s wife and said how much he enjoys her (non-existent) work. Worse, he was recently photographed at an official visit with his trouser leg tucked inside his sock. His trademark syncopated smile and other tics — permissible in a Chancellor, the nation’s trusted book-keeper — will seem much odder in a Prime Minister attempting to speak to and embody modern Britain.
None of these is a hanging offence. But when Alastair Campbell concocted the story about John Major tucking his shirt into his underpants, he knew the political damage that can be inflicted by making a politician a laughing stock. It is no accident that Mr Blair called William Hague’s Tory party ‘weird, weird, weird’. Once, Blairite MPs would laugh just as hard about the Chancellor’s gaucheness. Now, their own political survival — in government and, in about six dozen cases, as MPs — depends on Mr Brown raising his game. They fear that he may become an object of national derision. But there is nothing much they can do about that now.
On the Friday after the elections, Labour held a party in Soho House in London for serving and former aides. It was effectively a wake for the Blair years — and spirits dampened by the loss of Scotland and 500 English seats in the elections were restored by the free bar. Blairites drank and reminisced with former Brown aides: there was a palpable sense of amnesty. The man once seen as the Chancellor’s nemesis, Alastair Campbell, made a speech. ‘Now, we will all get behind Gordon Brown and help him win the next election,’ he said. There was quiet, then a cheer. Although many in Labour may hate to admit it, they are all Brownites now.
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