SPECTATOR
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THE ONE-YEAR ITCH
cians and journalists are picking their part- ners for an anniversary waltz. This big pro- duction number, with a cast of thousands, is being staged to celebrate Tony Blair's first year in Downing Street. Several television programmes have already warmed up the audience, magazines (not this one) are preparing their happy birthday issues and Whitehall is to publish its first 'Annual Report'.
No one seems to question the value of the celebration. One hundred days of Labour government was greeted as a signif- icant milestone. How much more impor- tant, we are encouraged to believe, is an entire year of Britain under Blair. The inescapable message is that this is a signifi- cant event. Over the past year, says the sub- text, the nation has been transformed by a new political philosophy. Such myth-making has, historically, played an important role in British politics. From Elizabeth I onwards, intelligent rulers have cloaked themselves with a sense of destiny and inevitability. Margaret Thatcher cultivated her status as an icon of consistency, concealing considerable politi- cal agility behind the Iron Lady front. As she told the Conservative conference, in the words of the late Sir Ronald Millar, You turn if you want to. The Lady's not for turning.' Tony Blair would like to emulate that success. He is, however, hampered by the need for a mission. So far, the Prime Minister is a political phenomenon in search of a purpose. One year after Tony and Cherie's tri- umphal entry into a Downing Street lined with cheering party workers, his party has yet to decide what it wants to do, if any- thing. Domestic policy has been a mixture of the sensible (freedom for the Bank of England) and the misguided (increasing centralisation in education); of success (unemployment continues to fall) and fail- ure (NHS waiting lists are longer). The only area of real change is the constitution, where the revolution under way — devolu- tion in Scotland and Wales, reform of the Lords, possible proportional representation ---- cuts against the grain of the Prime Min- ister's own political instincts. So it is no surprise that he has chosen to concentrate on his emerging role as the Great Conciliator, first in Northern Ire- land, and now in the Middle East. Here is a role he can play convincingly. It relies, how- ever, on continued domestic economic growth, the benign legacy of the last Con- servative government.
The British people are unimpressed by political performance abroad, an epithet which most of them would also apply to all of Ireland. If things go wrong at home, they will turn on Mr Blair. Were voters to con- clude, for example, that the Americans had only permitted the Prime Minister his tri- umph in Israel in exchange for Britain accepting Georgian nuclear waste, they would not forgive him. Falling popularity in Britain would undermine his success abroad, which is based not on personal charm, but on a reputation as a political wunderkind. Mr Major's considerable pri- vate appeal was no match for his aura of public failure.
Acclamation overseas will not help with the electorate, nor will it impress the Labour party. The Prime Minister's sup- porters argue that he has assumed a presi- dential role, above politics. This is opti- mistic. British prime ministers are, as Lady Thatcher discovered, ultimately dependent on the support of their colleagues in the House of Commons. The young Blairite MPs who support him now have no political roots; if their jobs were threatened they could easily turn on their benefactor. The old Left, now dormant, would enthusiasti- cally assist them. This anniversary is no milestone, nor a cause for celebration in the Labour party or the country. On their first anniversary Mr Blair and his friends have yet to find a use for his immense polit- ical power. This may be no bad thing, but it is not the stuff of which myths are made.
he Duke of Edinburgh is in trouble again. At an awards ceremony in Sydney, he remarked jovially to a young man who had trekked through the mountains of Papua New Guinea, 'You managed not to get eaten, then?' The Duke's jest has caused commentators in this country to claim it as a setback to the royal family's bid to modernise its image.
Of all the people in Britannia, Prince Philip is perhaps the most uncool. How the style gurus must wince over his unfashion- able suits and his brusque bearing. How they must despair, most of all, of the Duke's Palmerstonian attitude towards for- eigners, which has earned him the title of Britain's Foot-in-Mouth Ambassador.
This is certainly the antithesis of New Labour. Or is it? There is one leading member of the government who in many ways bears an uncanny resemblance to Prince Philip. Indeed we might speculate that his 'style' abroad was actually modelled on that of the Prince. We refer to Mr Robin Cook, the Foreign Secretary. The Duke, therefore, is surely the epitome of cool.
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