Unleashing Demons

by Craig Oliver

  The ten o’clock news comes on. DC looks at me mischievously and says, ‘This isn’t going to be pretty. If you don’t like blood sports, look away now.’

  At one point there is an obituary part of the package, going over when MPs plotted against IDS and he resigned as party leader. Our thoughts turn to who should go out to defend us. I say Fallon. When I call, I can tell he is itching to do it. We agree to have a conference call at 7 a.m. I hand the phone to DC so he can thank him. He walks towards the back of his office.

  I drive Kate home. Both of us agree the real danger in this is the way so much poison is being pumped into the party’s bloodstream. How will it be survivable when the referendum is done?

  I try to get some sleep, but my phone keeps ringing until 1 a.m. and I need to take the calls.

  Chapter 13

  The One Word He Didn’t Use

  I’M UP EARLY on Saturday 20 March to make endless calls about IDS.

  Everyone wants to know the details of the resignation. Yesterday’s long round with the Sunday commentators has to be repeated. So, too, do conversations with political editors.

  From what I can work out, IDS still doesn’t seem to have got his story straight. On the one hand he agreed there was a need to reform PIP and was prepared to explain that need. On the other, he was angry he was left carrying the baby – fearing that having defended it, there would be a decision to soften it or move away from it.

  I push back with our story:

  There was a problem with PIP.

  DWP accepted something needed to be done and made this proposal.

  They then defended it, including writing a ‘Dear Colleague’ letter to Conservative MPs on Thursday night.

  How is this a principled resignation in opposition to the policy?

  At 7 a.m. I have a call with Fallon, who is going on the BBC. He is totally in control, getting this point and using a rapier rather than a sledgehammer to make it. We are lucky to have him around – it makes me smile that he relishes it so much.

  Amid the endless calls and the craving for detail – ‘Did DC call IDS a “shit”?’ ‘How did he receive the letter?’ ‘Is it true he was on a call with IDS when the news broke on Sky?’ (The answer to this is ‘Yes.’) – DC calls to discuss the reshuffle. He wants to ensure the Chief Whip and I are involved. His tone is decisive. He has decided he wants to replace IDS with Stephen Crabb, the up-and-coming Welsh Secretary. He says he thinks he’ll be a calming appointment. Alun Cairns will replace him in Wales.

  Philippa Stroud, IDS’s former special adviser, is on the radio ramming home his ‘not all in it together’ message.

  We regroup after the morning news cycle on a conference call and we agree that the lines I have taken are still the right ones.

  This proves useful when I’m talking to the likes of Simon Walters, the political editor of the Mail on Sunday. Simon and I have a close relationship, but occasionally I feel that it’s like the one between the boy and the Bengal tiger in the book Life of Pi – there’s never any doubt the tiger is a natural-born killer.

  He starts by claiming we are in trouble, but when I talk him through the precise chronology, he knows it isn’t a good look for IDS – is he resigning because he was briefed against (a questionable assertion), or because he disagreed with the policy? Any answer to either question doesn’t work for him.

  Of course, the bottom line is, it isn’t a great look for us either.

  As I go through the calls, it is hard not to feel that this is a bitter and bloody fight that has direct links to the referendum and the soul of the Conservative party. As things keep coming at me, I realise I am suppressing a deep emotion – this is upsetting, I’d rather not be doing this, I need sleep, I need a moment to switch off from all of this.

  The acronym used by Lynton Crosby’s business partner, Mark Textor, rattles through my brain – TTFU. Toughen the Fuck Up. On a practical level, it’s great advice. Swallow it – get on with it. But increasingly I feel days like these are corrosive, stopping anything like a balanced life.

  DC calls to go through why he is so irritated by IDS’s behaviour. ‘He never asked to see me about policy. He called me four times and he kept saying he would come back to me. As he was on the phone to me, his announcement popped up on Sky.’

  The afternoon is a write-off, as I patiently explain the story to journalists. Some have only just worked out that IDS sent a letter on Thursday night defending the proposals. It never ceases to amaze me the number of times you can make a point before it finally lands.

  I read through the Sunday papers. They revel in the gory detail of knifings and claims of betrayal. We have given as good as we got – forcing more questions on IDS than he has on us.

  I watch IDS on Marr – and yet again think he really doesn’t have his story straight. The first half of the interview is a confusing mess. Finally IDS revs up and delivers his blows, questioning George, and the ‘One Nation’ credentials of the Government.

  There’s no point pretending – this will look bad for us when it is clipped on news bulletins. Why he resigned will be diminished – the attack on the Government as uncaring will dominate. He looks indignant, saying he wants the children of people on welfare to have the same opportunities as him. The challenge: ‘Yes, but if you don’t have sound public finances while welfare budgets like PIP are spiralling out of control to the tune of £1 billion a year, and you still have a deficit, you can’t help those children,’ does not come.

  On a conference call after, we are all agreed that it looks like a bloodbath, but IDS didn’t properly connect. It’s like he has delivered a cut that creates an awful lot of blood, but which isn’t fatal.

  George points out, ‘He explicitly supported both of us continuing.’ IDS could make a statement in the Commons tomorrow, which might be a serious problem, but it seems he doesn’t want to. DC’s view is, ‘Don’t goad him.’

  Nevertheless, everyone is kicking themselves. IDS was given the pretext to resign and portray himself as a martyr. We had not properly prepared people for why there was a good case to do something so controversial. Were too many people too focused on the referendum to pay attention to other things that were inevitably going to be connected?

  We need to move on. I get an idea. The next call is with the Telegraph. I tell them DC will make the case that he is the true advocate of modern, compassionate Conservatism. Setting out his achievements in this field when he goes to the Commons tomorrow.

  At 7 p.m. I drive in to Downing Street. I’m supposed to be talking to Greg Clark, the unassuming, but highly capable Secretary of State at the Department for Communities and Local Government, but the switchboard is down and there’s no chance of it working any time soon.

  The meeting takes place in the PM’s study. DC and George in their usual armchairs, the rest of us on the sofa opposite and chairs dotted around. We agree not to send anyone out on the morning media round. We want to slow it down, take it easy. If the burn rate of these stories is as fast as it has been, the less energy added, the better.

  At the end of the meeting DC wraps up, saying, ‘It’s odd they said I called him a “shit”. That was the one word I didn’t use.’

  I drive home and watch the news – both on the BBC and ITV. I’ve briefed them that the PM will make the case for modern, compassionate Conservatism in his Commons statement and that Crabb will confirm the PIP reforms won’t happen. DC calls straight after. He says I did really well briefing Kuenssberg and Peston, before asking what I thought.

  ‘Bloody – but not fatal. I think we can turn this tomorrow into a fightback, but you’ll have to dig deep and be magnanimous to IDS.’ He agrees.

  The next morning, as predicted, the papers report the bloodbath in all its gory detail. It’s a mess, but my view that it’s like a flesh wound, which produces a lot of blood but isn’t life-threatening, is confirmed.

  The CBI is out saying Brexit is a disaster and is running mid-bulletin, which is pretty much where it shou
ld be given the circumstances. I get calls suggesting we should try to move it up the running order. I don’t point out that might happen if we could stop stories about the Government tearing itself apart.

  Michael Howard does a good job of reminding MPs to support the manifesto they stood on and that they’re very good at opposing cuts, but not great at supporting measures designed to control budgets.

  Next, DC decides we will accept both ‘rebel’ amendments on the budget – one on the so-called ‘Tampon Tax’, the other on solar panels. It’s painful, but a quick way to cauterise the wound.

  Finally the PM is magnanimous to IDS, but also underlines that he doesn’t accept that his team are anything less than modern and compassionate Conservatives. The lines I put out to that effect are leading the BBC news and are the splash in the Telegraph. Encouraged by that, I have a sense of calm. This is a balloon that has been blown up to the verge of popping, but no one seems to want to prick it. All the while, we are letting more and more air out of it.

  DC says, ‘We’ve just lost a whole load of money,’ meaning the welfare savings. ‘We need to take our time in working out how to deal with that.’ Meanwhile, George Osborne pads around Downing Street like a caged tiger. It goes against all of his instincts to lie low.

  There’s a small group meeting not involving the PM about Europe. We discuss the fact that the Government leaflet making the case for Remain is going out – and the level of anger it’ll spark. Even with what feels like the whole of Government poring over it, I still don’t think everyone has quite grasped what a big deal this will be for the Leave campaign:

  Nearly £10 million spent on it.

  Done against the advice of the Electoral Commission.

  Our defence is that there was a leaflet in the 1975 referendum and in Scotland. The thing about the Scottish leaflet is that it was balanced by one released by the Scottish Government. To make matters worse, it’s coming out as we are holding an awayday/night for MPs. This prompts discussion about whether we should just can the whole event.

  I decide to watch the PM’s statement in the Commons. He does well – the assertion about being the leader of a modern, compassionate, Conservative Government goes down well with his backbenchers and badly opposite. There’s a lot of noise, but he soldiers on. I can see tweets suggesting it looked good on TV. Corbyn begins by complaining that the PM only gave him half of his statement in advance. It’s a tactic that undeniably worked, because to the astonishment of everyone, he doesn’t mention IDS once, though several people point out that he could have read it on the front page of the Daily Telegraph.

  The Labour MPs look glum – how can it possibly be that the PM isn’t being eviscerated? How can he have got away with it?

  Late on, DC calls. I tell him I think we have taken the heat out of it. He agrees and says, ‘Well done.’ The story is burning itself out.

  By Tuesday there’s a real sense that we are turning this around. The tide is changing in our favour – as enemies fail to exploit our misery.

  There’s a brilliant demolition of IDS by William Hague in the Daily Telegraph that concludes devastatingly:

  … presented with the idea that he resigned over a policy he defended the day before, which was being revised before he quit, and because it was combined with policies that could not possibly have come as a surprise, I can come to only one conclusion. This resignation was totally unnecessary and unequivocally wrong.

  Tube passengers stare at me as I laugh out loud at another quote by Nicholas Soames, lamenting the failure of successive Tory leaders to confront the Eurosceptics:

  If you have an Alsatian sitting in front of you, and it growls at you and bares its teeth, there are two ways of dealing with it. You can pat it on the head, in which case it’ll bite you, or you can kick it really hard in the balls, in which case it’ll run away.

  The humour drains out of everything pretty quickly, as it starts to emerge there’s been a terror attack in Brussels.

  As I walk into DC’s office, he is commenting on a line in one of the papers that Michael Gove should be made Deputy PM. He turns to me, knowing I will wholeheartedly agree with his view: ‘Can you imagine him ever being left in charge of the country?’

  He doesn’t yet know about the attack and I warn him it is looking like a major act of terrorism.

  News starts to flow in – the airport and a metro station have been hit. The images are horrific. I have an empty feeling in my stomach – shock, horror and empathy for the people there, blended with a dread that it could happen here.

  There’s a Cabinet, followed by a political cabinet – where Zac, Mark Fulbrook and Lynton Crosby report on the London mayoral race.

  Zac stands on the fringes, refusing to sit at the table. There’s more passion, but he still hasn’t shaken that diffident vibe. He claims he is ‘closing in fast’ on Sadiq Khan and alludes to a hustings he has just been at, where Sadiq ‘blew up’.

  I also sit on the fringes, on a chilly window seat, monitoring the situation in Brussels. The bodies are still being removed from the airport and metro station and some extreme Brexiteers are already trying to make political capital.

  Allison Pearson, who I had thought of as sensible, writes: ‘Brussels, de facto capital of the EU, is also the jihadist capital of Europe. And the Remainers dare to say we are safer in the EU! #Brexit.’

  The responses are shaming and condemnatory – most ironic in pointing out how classy she is; some sickened that bodies are still being pulled out. Another UKIP supporter tweets a picture of someone lying bloodied on the ground, clearly pleading for help – saying it shows we need to leave.

  After sitting around the coffin-shaped briefing table in the Cabinet Office Briefing Room, better known as COBRA, it’s impossible not to shudder again at what happened. The PM does a clip on the attack for the news bulletins in the Cabinet Room and we disappear into more Europe meetings.

  The main topic of discussion is how we get the Labour party to be more involved. My sense is that the likes of Mandelson and Alan Johnson need to be meeting with the PM. Not because it will get anything done, but more as a diplomatic exercise to show how willing we are. Others aren’t convinced, but DC is irritated. ‘There’s no point sitting on the sofa rolling your eyes. We need to win this and if that means meeting with people – that’s fine.’

  The conversation moves on to the Conservative party. There are a lot of people telling the PM he needs to stand back, claiming he is damaging himself. DC says he doesn’t know how to lead other than from the front. He’s right.

  After another COBRA, we go to DC’s office to prepare for PMQs. It’s likely Corbyn will ask him to apologise to people with disabilities. If he has his wits about him, which recent days have proven is by no means guaranteed, he’ll ask about the prospect of further cuts to welfare and the budget black hole of £4.4 billion.

  This should be deeply uncomfortable, but we have been handed a gift by a Sam Coates piece in The Times. He has been given a document from the Labour Leader’s Office grouping MPs according to their relationship to Corbyn.

  The categories are: Core Group – including Corbyn; Core Group Plus – neutral; Core Group Negative; and Hostile Group.

  As we are discussing it, Michael Gove walks in, making a joke about being ‘Core Group Negative’. I find it hard to be in the same room. He is chairing the Leave campaign, which is doing all it can to tear us apart. Fine – that’s his choice, but let’s not play the happy families game. I just need to swallow it, as DC seems prepared to do.

  When I return for the final half hour of prep in the Commons, the breakdown of Labour MPs is returned to. DC studies it carefully – looking for opportunities to smash Corbyn. Amazingly, Corbyn’s own Chief Whip Rosie Winterton is considered hostile, ‘And I thought I had problems!’ he quips, rehearsing his lines.

  DC waits for his moment in the Commons and then is lethal, tearing into a glum-looking Labour party. He should be on the rack, tortured for the budget and the I
DS resignation. Instead he is on the front foot – laying into them. Before it is over, the whole thing is summed up by a Labour MP, John Woodcock, who tweets: ‘Worst week for Cameron since he came in and that stupid fucking list makes us into a laughing stock.’

  He deletes it quickly, but it’s too late. It’s been captured – cementing a desperate day for Labour.

  The key meeting of the day is in the PM’s Commons office. The In members of the Cabinet crowd round the long table, the afternoon sun outside dissolving into dusk.

  Andrew Cooper stands in front of a screen, presenting fresh polling, a reminder that this is by no means won yet.

  46% of people now think it’s more risky for their family to remain in the EU.

  Who is best for ‘Strong Public Services’, ‘Jobs’ and the ‘Economy’ are all moving slowly in the Leave direction. That is a real concern.

  DC sums up, ‘In some ways that is a depressing presentation. But in others it is optimistic. If we get the economy and national security in the right direction, we’ll win.’

  A couple of days later, with DC in Lanzarote for a short break, Andrew sends through more polling. It shows that most Labour voters aren’t aware that the party wants to stay in the EU. This is serious. We need to put the party at the centre of our comms plan – with clear messages that voting to Remain is the best option for working people. That’s an easy sentence to type, but delivering is going to be like bailing out a boat with a sieve.