In high politics, mystery is an asset subject to the law of diminishing returns. As British Prime Minister Theresa May’s holiday draws to a close, she contemplates a groaning in-tray, and the more numinous challenge of defining herself more fully to the country she now leads.
Future historians will study her stealthy ascent to the premiership as a masterclass in the power of discreet efficiency. Even as home secretary, occupying one of the great offices of state, she shunned theatricality, rarely strayed outside her policy portfolio, and spent much less time than her colleagues cultivating the media.
Instead, her strategy was to let the boys fight it out amongst themselves in a murderous version of the Eton wall game, and then to step over their political corpses and into No 10. That strategy was perfectly suited to the collective psychosis of the European Union (EU) referendum and its aftermath. As the farce of fragmenting leadership campaigns descended into Shakespearean tragedy, May seemed to glide into Downing Street, frictionless and unopposed. At the very start, her composure and poise were sufficient — a signal that the government was in the hands of a grown-up. Now she needs to introduce herself more fully to the public, unveiling the pith behind the “one-nation” slogans and the type of society she aspires to nurture.
Naturally, her team is focused on her speech at the Conservative party conference in Birmingham. But that is some way in the future. The challenge of self-definition cannot wait until October, or the autumn statement later in the year. Like former prime minister Gordon Brown, May is not the sort of politician to whom public introspection comes easily. Nor does she share former premier David Cameron’s inclination to declare himself up to date with digital fads like Angry Birds, or smash-hit television dramas like Game of Thrones. By her deeds shall ye know her. She will use the brush of strategy and policy to fill in the blanks of her political self-portrait.
Unseemly turf war
Looming over all else, of course, is Brexit and the form its enactment takes. Already there has been an unseemly turf war between Liam Fox, the International Trade Secretary, and Boris Johnson, the Foreign Secretary, over the international commercial function of HMG. Fox’s land grab was thwarted by Johnson, whose officials are well-used to departmental jealousy.
The PM let it be known that she was “distinctly unimpressed” by the squabble. What she cannot be is surprised. Having appointed Fox to his new role and David Davis to be Brexit Secretary, May was setting the scene for a three-way battle for control of Britain’s departure from the EU. As if to dramatise the struggle, she has asked Johnson, Fox and Davis to share Chevening, the grace-and-favour country house that is generally allocated to the foreign secretary (William Hague spent many happy hours in its fabulous library).
In practice, it should be Davis, reporting to the PM, who calls the shots. Small wonder that he is reluctant to move out of the Brexit unit’s current home at No 9 Downing Street — though he accepts that 250 or so of his civil servants will have to find accommodation elsewhere in Whitehall. Daily proximity to the centre of power is a huge asset in the Westminster jungle and one he will not easily surrender.
May and Davis are an unlikely duo, and his appointment suggests that this PM is more imaginative and flexible in her approach to team-building than might have been supposed. They have, so to speak, history: She replaced him as party chairman in July 2002, after Iain Duncan Smith sacked him while he was abroad. More recently Davis, as the leading civil libertarian or Runnymede Tory on the backbenches, was a thorn in her side at the Home Office, constantly challenging her anti-terror and surveillance measures.
Appointing Davis suggests that this PM is more imaginative in team-building than might have been supposed.
Indeed, Davis almost missed his own appointment to the cabinet. On the day itself, July 13, he was ensconced in the Commons, debating the Chilcot inquiry, and turned his phone off. Later, over a drink with his former chief-of-staff, Renate Samson, he became aware that something was going on — and turned his phone back on to discover a series of ever-more frantic messages urging him to call the Downing Street switchboard.
As secretary of state for exiting the EU, Davis has developed a strategy that is sensibly cautious and resists the demands of IDS and others for a hasty departure. According to Davis’ timetable, there must first be six months of detailed research and stress-testing, with particular attention paid to the likely impact of Brexit upon the service economy. He faces institutional hostility in both houses of parliament, and is basing his calculations upon the assumption that our soon-to-be former EU partners do not want a trade war. It is a daunting challenge that will require all his streetfighting and cerebral nous.
Those who know May tell me that she wants to be remembered as more than the steersman of Brexit, important though that is. She has already signalled a belief in an industrial strategy more comprehensive than, say, George Osborne’s championship of the “northern powerhouse”.
‘A long-term strategy’
Greg Clark, the business and energy secretary, told the Sunday Times on Monday that the success of Team GB at the Rio Olympic Games should be an inspiration for “a long-term strategy for our industrial and commercial future. Recognising our strengths — from science to the creative industries — and making sure they are nurtured and encouraged”. What precisely does this mean? Subsidising successful sectors of the economy at the public expense, just as lottery cash has been pumped into sports that reach their medal targets? Or something else? The answer, I suspect, lies at the heart of May-ism, if there is such a thing.
Of the new cabinet committees she has established, attention is drawn by her allies to the social reform group and its centrality to her thinking. In her first statement as prime minister, she promised to fight the “burning injustice” of poverty, racism and gender inequality and to alleviate the struggle of families that are “just managing”.
No Tory leader has ever expressed such fundamental ambitions to reconfigure society. No Conservative moderniser has marched so boldly into the terrain vacated by Labour as it busies itself with a carnival of cannibalism. The May era begins in earnest this week. It is much too early to say how it will be judged by posterity. Her reach may exceed her grasp. But those who dismiss this prime minister as a dull technocrat are in for a big surprise. She is not afraid to dream.
— Guardian News & Media Ltd
Matthew d’Ancona writes a weekly column for the Guardian. He was previously editor of the Spectator. He also writes for the Evening Standard and GQ. He was the Sunday Telegraph’s political columnist for 19 years. He is a visiting research fellow at Queen Mary University of London, author of several books including In It Together: The Inside Story of the Coalition.
