Cameron at 10

by Anthony Seldon

  Handling the delicate question of Margaret Thatcher’s legacy has never been far from the surface. She had a profound influence on Cameron: when he was at Oxford, he held a party in his room to celebrate her third election victory in June 1987.3 Alongside Llewellyn, he had worked for her in the Conservative Research Department. They resolved that, should she die while he is in Downing Street, they would make it a major national moment. His relationship with her when he became party leader in 2005 began poorly: at a meeting shortly after his election, she was heard to remark that she could not believe anyone not wearing a tie could possibly be a Conservative leader.4 To the bafflement and frustration of Cameron’s team, she accepted Gordon Brown’s invitation to visit Number 10 for tea on 13 September 2007.5 The acceptance of the invitation would have been decided by Thatcher’s praetorian guard, a source of concern in itself.

  On 8 June 2010, very shortly after Cameron becomes prime minister, he invites her to tea. For Cameron and his close team, this is a moment to savour. They meet upstairs in the White Room. Respect for Lady Thatcher also means that in October that year she is invited to Downing Street for her eighty-fifth birthday. Along with former Cabinet colleagues, the staff who worked with her in Number 10 are also invited. But on the day, a message arrives that she is too unwell to attend. The party goes ahead without her at her office’s wish.

  Margaret Thatcher still casts a deep shadow over the Conservative Party. That shadow had significantly damaged the premiership of Major, whom she treated deplorably, deliberately undermining him.6 In the eyes of many commentators on the right, like Simon Heffer and Charles Moore, Major had been part of the ‘great betrayal’ of Thatcherism.7 Vernon Bogdanor, who taught Cameron at Oxford, reminded him that democracy is government by explanation, and wrote to him saying that it is not enough to have good policies – what is also vital is to communicate them to the country.8 Cameron models some of his personal style on her, such as her insistence on punctuality, on injecting urgency into the system, and personally driving it forward. But in some ways, as William Hague notes, Cameron is more like Harold Macmillan, albeit more ambitious for change.9 It was Macmillan’s portrait that hung above Cameron’s desk in the Commons when he was Leader of the Opposition. In his first speech as Tory leader on 6 December 2005, in the full flood of the modernisation phase, he very deliberately distanced himself from one of her best-known statements: ‘There is such a thing as society, it’s just not the same as the state.’10 Cameron indeed felt that for all her achievements, she could be needlessly rebarbative and divisive.

  After the crash and the adoption of austerity, Cameron moves closer to Thatcher ideologically. One of the key lessons that Cameron, Osborne and Hague take from the Thatcher years is the Budget of 1981, in which, despite widespread criticism from economists and commentators, the direction did not change and Thatcher and her chancellor Geoffrey Howe stuck tenaciously to their plan. ‘We were all schooled in the Geoffrey Howe Budget of 1981,’ says Rupert Harrison, ‘we all knew it would be difficult and we’d have to stick to our strategy.’ Cameron admired Thatcher for triumphing over her opposition and confounding her critics against the odds. There are lessons for his administration. ‘People misremember the Thatcher syndrome and expect it to be easy today,’ he says.11

  Shortly after her death, he says on Radio 4 that ‘we’re all Thatcherites now’.12 Does he believe it? Scratch below the surface, and he refuses to describe himself as a ‘Thatcherite’, but rather a ‘Thatcher supporter’. He and Hilton admire aspects of her thinking, but a yawning gulf remains. When pushed to define the difference, he describes himself as a ‘one-nation Conservative, wanting to take the whole nation with me’ – a phrase that he later repeats on the morning after the 2015 general election. He is critical of her for being ‘so focused on economics’ and overlooking the fact that ‘Conservatism is also about social renewal and communities’.13 His brand of Toryism is far more pragmatic and traditionally set than the radicalism she represented and inspired.

  Within twenty-four hours of his return to London, Cameron decides, after consultation with Ed Miliband, that Parliament must be recalled for a day of tributes. The arrangements for her commemoration are pored over in great detail. He works hard on his speech for the occasion to ensure it is full of praise, but also sincere: ‘Margaret Thatcher … rescued our country from post-war decline. They say that cometh the hour, cometh the man. Well, in 1979 came the hour, and came the lady. She made the political weather. She made history. And let this be her epitaph: she made our country great again.’14 Miliband gives one of his better speeches: ‘Whatever one’s view of her, Margaret Thatcher was a unique and towering figure. I disagree with much of what she did, but I respect what her death means to the many, many people who admired her, and I honour her personal achievements.’15

  The parliamentary tributes over, the nation’s attention turns to the funeral. Francis Maude oversees the arrangements at the Cabinet Office. The funeral is fixed for Wednesday 17 April. In a break with convention, Buckingham Palace gives an early indication that the Queen will be in attendance. There are daily meetings in the COBRA room. Intense liaison takes place with the Thatcher family and other parties over who is to be invited, and where they will sit in St Paul’s Cathedral. Earlier planning in anticipation of her death had taken place when both Blair and Brown had been prime ministers. Different possibilities are discussed with the Palace, including the option of a state funeral. The Duke of Wellington, who died in 1852, had received one, but that was more by dint of his contribution as a military leader than as an undistinguished prime minister. Since 1945, only Churchill in 1965 has received a state funeral, which again was significantly because of his leadership of Britain during the Second World War. They soon agree on a ‘ceremonial’ funeral, which includes a military component as well as national representation. This accords with the wishes of the Thatcher family, who did not want it to have a status higher than the Queen Mother’s funeral.

  As the day approaches, meetings in the COBRA room become longer and the tension more apparent. Maude is pulling his hair out over the Cabinet Office’s chaotic ticketing arrangements, which nearly derail the event. All living prime ministers and their wives are to attend, as are Lady Thatcher’s former chancellors, Nigel Lawson and Geoffrey Howe. Foreign prime ministers include Italy’s Mario Monti, Canada’s Stephen Harper, and Donald Tusk of Poland. President Obama isn’t there but James Baker, Ed Meese, George Schulz and Dick Cheney, senior figures from the Reagan and Bush presidencies, are all to be in attendance. Cameron will read a lesson, and the address will be given by Richard Chartres, the Bishop of London. The night before the funeral Cameron hosts a dinner in Number 10 for all those from the US and Canadian administrations she had worked with.

  Massive police presence is required in the event of public disorder, a real fear discussed in COBRA. On Saturday 13 April, a largely peaceful crowd gathers in Trafalgar Square to protest against her policies.16 ‘Ding Dong! The Witch is Dead’ from The Wizard of Oz rises to number two in the singles chart. On the day of the funeral, angry demonstrators stage their own mock funeral in the former mining town of Goldthorpe in South Yorkshire. Six police forces from outside London send officers, and 4,000 policemen and women are on duty. Terrorism is another concern, given her strong stance on Northern Ireland and support of the USA. The funeral takes place just two days after the Boston Marathon bombing and security is intense. In the event, the day passes relatively without incident. Thousands line the streets as her coffin, placed on a gun carriage and covered by the Union flag, is drawn through London to St Paul’s. While some hold placards in protest, the mood is respectful, and as the cortege passes spontaneous applause ripples through the crowd. The service is emotionally charged, although Cameron is composed throughout. During Chartres’ eloquent address, Osborne, sitting directly behind the Camerons, is moved to tears. He later tweets: ‘A moving, almost overwhelming day.’17 Although some ridicule Osborne, his display of emotion is genu
ine, and contributes to his rehabilitation – at least in the eyes of some in the press.

  John Major is one of many in the congregation of St Paul’s who feel a degree of ambivalence towards Thatcher. Since Cameron became leader, he went out of his way to build a close relationship with Major, and his advice is regularly called upon. He has known Major from the time he prepared his press briefings during the 1992 general election. Llewellyn equally knows Major well from that era. Llewellyn worked for Chris Patten and keeps in close touch with Major’s long-standing chief of staff. They work together to co-ordinate several ‘helpful’ interventions by Major, such as after the Bloomberg speech, on Europe, Scotland and on immigration. A rare exception comes with Major’s suggestion of a windfall tax on the profits of energy companies, following Ed Miliband’s call for a price freeze in October 2013.

  In St Paul’s Cathedral, Cameron sits on the front row alongside Major, Blair and Brown. All three had governed the country that Thatcher had so decisively shaped. All three, in their own particular ways, had been shaped by her policies and her style. At the end of the ceremony, as music begins to play, the soldiers lift the coffin and begin a slow march down the great cathedral’s nave. The mourners, some mighty and powerful, others from what seems to be a distant era, are left in sombre contemplation.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Maximum Danger: Syria Vote

  August 2013

  Cameron is relaxing with Samantha and the children on holiday near Polzeath in Cornwall. He is enjoying the August sunshine, feeling considerably more confident and happy than he was on holiday the year before. They are spending a few days at a house rented from Conservative MP George Hollingbery, reading and trying to avoid attention from the paparazzi on the beach and in Cornish villages. His ever-present staff are keeping a low profile, and have barely had to disturb him. But in the early hours of 21 August, reports come in to Number 10 of a chemical attack in the Ghouta region east of the Syrian capital of Damascus. Videos are soon being uploaded online, showing people suffering from the effects of poison gas. Médecins Sans Frontières quickly estimate that at least 3,600 patients are being treated for ‘neurotoxic symptoms’, and it is widely reported that as many as 1,300 have been killed.1 The finger of blame points to the Assad regime, as the chemicals are delivered by rocket artillery of a type used by the Syrian government’s armed forces. The UN later says that the gas is probably sarin, a nerve agent ‘twenty times more deadly than cyanide’.2 Syrian government forces have been under severe pressure in the region, and reports have filtered through that opposition forces are making significant gains against them.3 Cameron decides to return to London at once, as Britain, the US and France announce that they hold the Syrian government responsible.

  Cameron is deeply anguished about what is happening. He is ahead of any member of his team, any minister or official, in asserting that Bashar al-Assad, ruler of Syria who succeeded his father Hafez in 2000, is a ruthless, brutal dictator, and that the world would be a safer place if he is swept away. On the surface, Assad – who had two years of postgraduate medical training in London in the early 1990s – is mild-mannered and articulate. Once the Arab Spring begins in late December 2010, Assad is indubitably beyond the pale.

  Protests erupt against Assad’s regime in April 2011, and the bloody military crackdown by Assad’s forces incenses Cameron. Unrest is kicking off at the same time in Libya. Many ask why he is prepared to take action in Libya but not Syria. The answer becomes obvious: Britain lacks the capacity to become involved in both countries at the same time, much though Cameron’s instincts lead him to want to do so. The plight of Benghazi at the time seems more acute, Libya is closer and, while far from straightforward, it offers better chances of a successful outcome. Syria is also a diplomatic headache. Russia has been quick to provide weapons and ammunition for Assad’s government forces, as have the Iranians, while Saudi Arabia and Turkey side with the rebels. Unpredictable forces are at play. Then there is the position on the ground, which is vastly more complex than in Libya. Syria’s Alawite Muslim, Christian and Druze communities in general back Assad, while many Sunni Muslims, who make up the majority in Syria, support the opposition rebels. The opposition itself, which initially appeared to be pro-West and pro-democracy, is also splintering: by the end of the second year of unrest, there will be as many as a thousand different opposition groups, with Islamist penetration becoming ever deeper.4 As the conflict continues, the jihadist groups grow stronger, with arms and resources sent from Saudi Arabia, and an influx of dedicated foreign fighters. Increasing numbers of Western policymakers express concern that any more help for the opposition will simply empower dangerous Islamic fundamentalists.5

  So Syria must take a back seat while Cameron negotiates his way through the Libya morass. But, by the autumn of 2011, it appears that British intervention there is reaching a successful conclusion. His gaze starts to turn eastwards towards Syria. After the massacre of over a hundred civilians by Syrian soldiers or government-backed militia near Homs in May 2012, the British government expels the remaining senior Syrian diplomats from London. Three months later, Foreign Secretary William Hague says that Britain will supply aid to those fighting government forces in Syria in the form of ‘non-lethal, practical assistance’ including satellite phones, radios and equipment.6 In October, Cameron asks Hugh Powell of the National Security Council to ‘grip Syria’. The following month, Hague announces that the government recognises the ‘National Council of Syrian Revolutionary and Opposition Forces’ as ‘the sole legitimate representative of the Syrian people’.7

  Cameron holds back from doing more in Syria in the autumn of 2012 until after the result of the US presidential election, held on 6 November. Once Obama’s victory is declared, Cameron and the president discuss Syria. Shortly afterwards, the British government announce they are opening talks with the armed opposition groups. Within days, Downing Street is indicating that the EU arms embargo against Syria should be lifted.8 Cameron privately tells his officials that he has grown sick of the endless slaughter and the intransigence of the Assad regime.9

  In November the National Security Council debate a set of papers advocating a large programme to train and equip Syrian rebels and air power options. The British military has also been reappraising options, now that the Libyan conflict is over, including using Western ‘boots on the ground’ and air power. Possibilities also include creating a large Syrian army in exile, which would be used decisively to reverse the military balance on the battlefield.10 This would be combined with a robust diplomatic stance by Arab states and Syrian opposition groups in order to ensure their full co-operation. When Chief of the Defence Staff David Richards presents his plan to the NSC in the spring, a response comes back from Powell to say that it is ‘more than the market could bear’. It would be unsellable to Washington as well as contrary to parliamentary and public opinion. The military’s plan is also rejected on the basis that it will take a year for the benefits to be felt. Richards is angry: ‘If they’d had the balls, they would have gone through with it … if they’d done what I argued, they wouldn’t be where they are with ISIS.’11 He tries to make the point that if the government is not prepared to adopt a comprehensive strategy then ‘the next best option was to let Assad win’.12 He is critical of the government for not being willing to work with Assad, who has the support of a considerable part of the Syrian population, many of whom Richards thinks are more biddable than the opponents. ‘They had this moral disgust of Assad. They didn’t want to think through second- and third-order questions, to find out what was really happening on the ground, where our intelligence wasn’t good.’ Others say that as well as never having the support of Washington, Richards’s plan is misdirected, and that more attention should have been given to options below the massive commitment of resources, time and effort that he favours.

  Cameron nevertheless makes it clear to the NSC at a meeting on 14 November that he wants to see movement on Syria, and in a series of cru
nch meetings of the NSC later in November and into December, various options are debated. Cameron decides to move ahead on two multinational platforms, the US and the EU. He and Obama hold detailed discussions in December 2012 and January 2013 in which they consider the action they might be prepared to take. His aim is to get the re-elected president more ‘muscularly active’ in Syria, so Cameron is pleased to find Obama more willing than he had been in the preceding eighteen months. Reports are that some 60,000 people have already died in Syria.13 Cameron takes the view that things are so bad that action will hardly make the position on the ground worse and offers a significant chance to make it better.

  Cameron comes to the EU Council in December 2012 with a number of proposals. He talks about ending the arms embargo and allowing weapons to be supplied to moderate as opposed to Islamist opposition groups. He also floats the idea amongst his team of putting military trainers on the ground to assist the rebels. He pressures his fellow leaders to do far more than simply roll over the arms embargo. In the first few weeks of 2013, Britain succeeds in getting agreement for technical assistance to the rebels, which the NSC has identified as a major priority. Cameron is satisfied with the momentum that this provides, but at the EU Council in March, François Hollande wants to go much further, saying, ‘we should lift the whole arms embargo on Syria’. He requests a bilateral with Cameron in his office before the Council begins. Coming off the back of the difficult budget negotiations the previous month, Cameron feels obliged to fall in with the French plan. In front of the cameras Hollande reiterates his desire to remove the embargo.14 Having made his gesture, Hollande then withdraws, leaving much of the work to get it lifted to the Foreign Affairs Council from March to May, where Hague takes up the slack. The Netherlands, Sweden and the Czech Republic are among the EU countries who are sceptical, worrying that the weapons could fall into the hands of Islamist terrorists with connections to groups fighting in Syria. Nevertheless, by 28 May agreement is reached when the EU announces that it will lift the arms embargo, though there are many details to be agreed before the Syrian rebels will be supplied with arms.