‘Let’s play this out,’ I said. ‘Assume Remain wins. I’ll bring the government back together and make new appointments. You will be a key part of that.’ I told him he would have a ‘top five’ job. He ruminated on what was in the top five, given that he knew I wouldn’t move George for him. ‘Defence is a top five job,’ I said. I was sure the hint was heavy enough to sink in.
I went on: ‘I’m not going to be prime minister forever. At the next leadership election – during this Parliament – it will probably be between you and George. Obviously I’m a huge supporter of George, but it should be a fair competition, and you’ve got every opportunity to win it. This will give you the best possible chance.’
Our discussion continued by text after we went our separate ways. Boris had become quite fixated on whether we could sort the issue of declaring in legislation that UK law was ultimately supreme over EU law. This was a long-running Eurosceptic campaign in Parliament, and I had hoped that it might be addressed by domestic legislation, building on our removal from ever-closer union.
The proposal was for Parliament to pass specific legislation making our Supreme Court the final arbiter of the application of EU law in the UK. I knew that our Supreme Court judges would be much more likely than the European Court of Justice to interpret the meaning of EU treaties in line with the plain words of the text, rather than bringing in their own ideas about what you could stretch the text to mean if you wanted to promote maximum integration. I also knew that they would pay real attention to the fact that Britain was explicitly no longer part of ever-closer union.
This idea was modelled on the sort of constitutional protection some other EU countries – including Germany and the Czech Republic – already had, under which domestic law takes precedence over supranational law.
An argument against was that it would set up a future clash between Europe and the UK. But such confrontations never actually happen, because the EU backs down. So the device acts as a deterrent.
I saw an opportunity to find a ‘win’ for Boris on this issue that would give him extra cover for coming down on the side of Remain. Oliver Letwin would get to work on this specific bugbear of the most evangelical Eurosceptics, and embarked on a nightmare round of shuttle diplomacy between Boris (helped by the Eurosceptic QC Martin Howe) and the government’s lawyers. But those lawyers were determined to defend the purity of European law, and therefore kept watering down the wording Oliver had agreed with Boris and Howe.
In some ways this episode epitomised a problem at the heart of the UK’s relationship with the EU. Instead of pragmatically pushing the boundaries in order to make the EU’s legal order more tolerable, our officials were determined to play strictly by the rules.
It soon became clear that while Boris cared about this issue, it was secondary to another concern: what was the best outcome for him? I could almost see his thought process take shape. Whichever senior Tory politician took the lead on the Brexit side – so loaded with images of patriotism, independence and romance – would become the darling of the party. He didn’t want to risk allowing someone else with a high profile – Michael Gove in particular – to win that crown.
At the same time, he was certain that the Brexit side would lose. So opting to back it bore little risk of breaking up the government that he wanted to lead one day. It would be a risk-free bet on himself. He was doubling down: making doubly sure he would be the next leader.
I kept saying to him: don’t take the course that you fundamentally think is wrong for the country.
To be fair, I could see that his agonising over the decision was genuine. He was torn between his head telling him that leaving would be a mistake, and his heart telling him to lead the romantic case for greater independence. I also accept that by holding a referendum I wasn’t simply giving everyone, including cabinet ministers, a choice: in or out. The referendum compelled them to make that choice.
Boris argued with me that this chance – a renegotiation followed by a referendum – might not come again, and so it had to be ‘seized’. When I challenged him that ‘seizing meant leaving’, and that ‘out meant out’, he would counter that in those circumstances there could always be a fresh renegotiation, followed by a second referendum. (This was a view he would repeat early on during the campaign, only to be rapidly silenced by his new allies in the Brexit camp.)
That said, the fundamental conclusion I am left with is that he risked an outcome he didn’t believe in because it would benefit his political career. But I recognise my shortcomings in failing to persuade him; above all, the fact that my renegotiation hadn’t done enough to create the conditions for more Eurosceptics to join my side of the campaign. Indeed, one of the greatest miscalculations I made was that I thought small ‘e’, small ‘s’ eurosceptics like me – in Parliament, in the press and among the public at large – would, like me, see that staying in and fighting, with new reforms agreed, with all the opt-outs secured, with all the advantages over trade and cooperation, was the right course.
Perhaps that is one of the biggest pitfalls in politics. Thinking that others, particularly those you know well, think like you. Often they don’t. In the weeks to come I would repeatedly be surprised by MPs, friends, local party members and councillors who I had never heard express the view that we should leave the EU waxing lyrical about how it was their passion. I don’t mean to say that they were all opportunists, more that I had given them the chance to think about the issue afresh, and they had decided to take that position.
In the days before the crucial EU summit, George and I saw all the members of the cabinet, some of them more than once. There were those we were certain would be for Leave (Chris Grayling, Theresa Villiers, Iain Duncan Smith and John Whittingdale) and those we thought could be persuaded.
George did an excellent job with Sajid Javid, who was far more pro-Brexit than I had thought. I failed dismally with Priti Patel, who revealed that she had always wanted to leave, but succeeded with Liz Truss and Jeremy Wright, who had both been wavering. All these conversations were far harder than I had anticipated. The latent Leaver gene in the Tory Party was more dominant than I had foreseen.
I was determined to try with everyone.
My conversation with IDS was interesting. I went back to the Maastricht Treaty, when he had been a leading rebel, pointing out how much of it I had managed to put right with my deal. Ours was no longer a temporary opt-out from a common destination; it was the acceptance of different destinations. ‘Isn’t that what the Maastricht rebels had wanted?’ I asked.
For a moment he seemed engaged. He said how much he had enjoyed focusing on domestic policy in government, on his mission to tackle poverty. That it had been good for him personally to spend less time on the European issue. But, as he put it, ‘the cell door has been opened’ – and this might be the only chance to escape.
By the time I left for the European Council I could already see that the Tory split would be closer to 50–50 than the 70–30 I had hoped for.
However, I didn’t anticipate who would be quickest out of the stalls. As soon as I had sealed the deal in Brussels – indeed, while I was still in the building – it was Michael Gove who was the first on the media condemning it.
Then came a special Saturday cabinet, and it was a historic one. For ten years I had fought to keep the Tory Party united over Europe. This was the moment it would begin to divide again, with friends and colleagues taking opposing sides on an issue of fundamental national importance.
And yet, despite all that, it was civilised, dignified, and quite moving. I explained that we were there to do three things: decide the date of the referendum; agree the deal that I had negotiated; and determine whether the government’s position should be supporting a reformed EU.
I then insisted on everybody speaking, and doing so in turn. My principal private secretary Simon Case had dug out the cabinet order of precedence, something we had
never bothered with, which combines seniority of post and the length of time as a cabinet minister to determine the rank of everyone present, and therefore the order in which I would call them.
Those who said they would be campaigning to leave said they did so with heavy hearts. Those who would campaign to remain made some particularly strong points, some of which I’d go on to use myself. The first was what a fundamental deal this was in terms of the way Europe worked, and the movement of power to Brussels. Our referendum lock was a mechanism for stopping it from going further. Getting out of ever-closer union was the start of taking it back – and this was a genuine breakthrough. The second was something Patrick McLoughlin said to me later that day: ‘I would love to live in Utopia, but I expect the EU would probably be there too.’
Everyone around the table – Leavers included – welcomed and supported the deal: a point I made in the room, and afterwards to the media.
I finished off with the words: ‘Although we may find ourselves on different sides of the debate about our membership of the EU, throughout this period and afterwards, we will still need to govern and serve the public who elected us. Therefore, it is essential that, despite differences on this one issue, we remain a united and respectful team, and work together on all issues. There is so much more for us to do in government beyond the question of Europe – and we’ll only succeed with our ambitious agenda if we continue to work together.’
Shortly afterwards, though, the extent of the split was brought home to me as I watched Sky News. Michael was joined by IDS, Chris Grayling, Priti Patel, Theresa Villiers and John Whittingdale at the headquarters of Vote Leave, which was later to be designated the official Leave campaign by the Electoral Commission. Lined up like that, I realised this was a parallel cabinet. And it had a leader, Michael Gove, who soon after was crowned ‘co-convenor’ with Labour MP Gisela Stuart. From then onwards, every time I turned on the radio or TV Michael seemed to be there, blasting the deal one minute, saying that EU membership was dangerous the next.
Boris was still to declare. And there was still hope: he admitted to the press that he was ‘veering all over the place like a broken shopping trolley’. I was texting him furiously: if you’re not sure, do what is right. We agreed to meet in No. 10 on the Saturday. He said that the work on asserting parliamentary sovereignty while in the EU had run into the sand, and concluded it was ‘like sucking and blowing at the same time’. But his position was still in play. He was writing two opinion pieces – one in favour of leaving the EU and one in favour of remaining – to help him get his thinking straight. He was texting me throughout these vacillations, and seemed to change his mind at least twice.
But by Sunday afternoon I knew I’d lost him. I was at home in Dean when he texted me. He said Brexit would be crushed ‘like the toad beneath the harrow’, but that he couldn’t look himself in the mirror if he campaigned to remain. ‘It’s not about you, it’s about doing the right thing,’ I replied. But it was too late. Nine minutes later he was on TV telling the nation that he had come out for out. I watched from the same chair I’d sat in for the 2015 exit poll. I knew what a serious blow this would be. He was the only leading politician whose favourability rating was higher than mine – crucially on the soft voters we were trying to attract.
So not only was my civil service battalion becoming a platoon; two of my key generals had defected in the first few days of battle.
There was no time to dwell. Over the next four months I would make fifty visits, eleven major set-piece speeches and scores of stump speeches at rallies and fundraising events. I’d write for almost every national newspaper and for local newspapers across the UK. I’d argue for Remain in television debates on Sky News, BBC, ITV, Buzzfeed and Facebook.
Making big arguments about the future of the country was energising. But I would begin to feel a constant sense of paralysis, unable to do what I needed to do, thwarted at every turn, swimming in a quicksand of my own making. It takes a lot to get me down, but the sensation of my feet being nailed to the floor when I needed to be advancing was the worst feeling in my political career.
We made some big mistakes in the campaign – I won’t deny it. Nor will I play the blame game: this was a referendum of my making, and a campaign of my choosing. I think about it every day, and turn it all over in my head. As there ended up being only 600,000 votes in it, it’s not far-fetched to say that if I had done something differently the result could have been different. It’s impossible to say for certain.
What I can say is that throughout it felt as if a sort of cloud was hovering over us. Small to start with, but growing ever larger and darker. Gradually, every killer argument was being drowned out, and every advantage slowly sunk. Every trait of this age of populism – the prominence of social media, the emergence of fake news, anti-establishment sentiment, growing unease with globalisation, frustration over the level of immigration – appeared to conspire against our cause. It wasn’t that Leave was besting us in every battle. It was that the physics of politics seemed to have changed. The upper hand became the losing hand, and the higher ground – which we felt we had captured – was surrounded.
At the very start of the campaign we felt like winners-in-waiting. The Remain campaign, named Stronger In, would be headed by Labour (predominantly New Labour) figures such as Peter Mandelson and Jack Straw’s son Will, because we knew victory would rest on Labour votes. But it would be steered by Conservatives. In Downing Street we reinstated our Sunday evening meetings. Ameet ran the grid, Liz organised the visits, Craig did the press – each of them no longer just for me and the government, but for all the cross-party constituent parts of the campaign.
Initially, our opponents were in disarray. While Remain engendered cross-party consensus in the form of Stronger In, Leave spawned battles between the rival groups, Vote Leave, Leave.EU and Grassroots Out, that had vied for official designation. They may have had Gove and Boris, but they were also a cauldron of toxicity, including figures like Nigel Farage, Dominic Cummings and the businessman Arron Banks. There was something of the night about them that would, we hoped, put off many voters.
My principal task was to deliver the right messages. Everywhere I went, I explained that Britain was stronger, safer and better off in the EU. That my renegotiation had fixed many of the things that were wrong with our place in the organisation. That we now had the best of both worlds – a special status that gave us access to the largest trade bloc in the world, with opt-outs from the biggest burdens, like the euro, open borders, justice and home affairs powers, and the like. That leaving would be a leap in the dark.
But I went beyond slogans and broad-brush arguments. In Ahoghill, Northern Ireland, I explained how the EU gave farmers access to a market of five hundred million consumers. At the O2 headquarters in Slough I told them how telecoms was helped by common rules and liberalisation of trade. At BAE in Preston, in front of a Typhoon fighter, I set out how EU membership made defence cooperation easier – and the more retail benefits like keeping the costs of flights and holidays down. In Wales, where almost 50,000 jobs relied on agriculture, I warned of the eyewatering tariffs outside the EU.
Anyone who says that Remain was a metropolitan, elitist outfit, and Leave was the voice of ordinary people, couldn’t have been more wrong. This was calf-rearing, call-handling, aeroplane-assembling Britain. They were the ones who benefited most from EU membership and would be hit hardest by leaving. And I was the one going out there and speaking directly to them.
Going into March, I was buoyant. ‘I feel I’ve had a very strong week,’ I recorded. ‘If anybody wants to know “Does he care about this?” Yes! I really am quite enjoying this campaign, because the arguments are very strong and it is actually quite refreshing to go into a workplace and not to talk about Tory cuts and all the rest of it.’ Our chances in four months’ time? ‘I think it will be OK. I think it is going to be bloody hard work and very close, and it could g
o wrong. So it’s not much better than 50–50.’
My tour outlining the economic advantages of EU membership culminated in a speech at the Vauxhall car plant in Ellesmere Port. It was the first of three speeches intended to cover each element of our three-part slogan. This one focused on ‘better-off’ – how massively the elimination of tariffs in the 1970s (from 32 per cent on salt, 37 on china and 17 on bicycles to zero per cent on everything) benefited Britain. It might have sounded esoteric, but it mattered – and my job was to get that across.
I wanted to focus in detail on automotives – literally the man under the car bonnet. Because this was one of Britain’s, and this government’s, greatest success stories. Our ability to export to the EU helped massively with that success. Of every hundred cars made in the UK, forty-four were sold to the EU. That wasn’t just because of our proximity; it was because cars were 10 per cent cheaper in the tariff-free single market. And the size of that market meant that complex just-in-time supply chains had become established. Hundreds of parts could cross the Channel several times before becoming a UK-made car.
And all this is what appealed to investors. That was another great success of the government: becoming the world’s leading destination for investment like this, after America. Along with our strong, low-regulation economy, it was EU membership that helped to attract that money.
I made it clear that it was the Leave side that was out of touch: ‘When I hear people argue that, by being in this single market, we are “shackled to a corpse”, I say: “You won’t find the people in these industries saying that; or the towns whose employment depends on them.”’
Again and again, it was Michael Gove who was getting his hands dirty. First, he came out to say my renegotiation was not legally binding, since the European Court of Justice could override it. We had to scramble government lawyers and the attorney general to say, no, an agreement by twenty-eight member states had the legal force of anything written into any treaty. More significant than the falsity of that claim was the fact that it was a direct attack on me and my integrity. I was naïve, perhaps, but the ferocity and mendacity shocked me.
For the Record Page 83