The right stuff
stensibly, Gordon Brown's first Labour conference speech as Prime Minister on Monday was grandly nonpartisan: there was not a single mention of the Tories or of David Cameron. In practice, the Conservative party generally, and Mr Cameron specifically, were present in every line.
Though presented as a lofty civic oratory by the father of the nation, this was in fact a brutally partisan speech by an expert Scottish machine politician. Everything was achieved by implication, but heavy implication.
First, Mr Brown presented himself as a sort of Sarkozy from Fife, translating 'love France or leave it' into an extended discourse on playing by the rules, British values, the need for migrants to speak English and 'British jobs for British workers'. As one of the PM's allies told The Spectator in July, part of Mr Brown's strategy is to turn his 'pathologies into assets': that is, to transform perceived weaknesses into strengths. It was widely assumed, for example, that his Scottishness would be a liability when he became Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. In fact he is now using his Kirkcaldy roots as a weapon with which to contrast himself with the metropolitan elite of London, and to align himself with all those who live outside the capital.
So, too, Mr Brown's battle to save his own eyesight — aided by the NHS — became a metaphor for the struggle of life in which courage and effort are rewarded. He started from the premise that life is tough for most people — no Cameroon 'General Wellbeing' here — and that he could identify with that spirit of struggle.
What he really meant was: I understand how hard life is, what it is like to earn everything you have — unlike the foppish, privileged, callow amateurs in the Tory party who dare to presume that they can run the country. In a subliminal sense, Mr Brown was playing the class card in every sentence, implicitly contrasting what he caricatures as the Cameroon Britain of ease, privilege and inherited security with his own Britain of strength, fair play and hard work.
Mr Brown's strategy is threefold. First, he wants the Tories to lose their cool over the injustice of it all. Here, after all, is the man who for ten years has denied funds to prison building, constructed a welfare state inimical to marriage, allowed our armed forces to live in squalor, enabled crippling levels of personal debt and poured untold billions into schools and hospitals while obstructing consumer-oriented reform behind the scene. How dare the tainted incumbent behave like a vigorous insurgent, full of promises of 'fresh starts' and 'lessons learned'?
What Mr Brown would love is for the Tory conference to descend into a playground chant of 'It's not fair!' — a collective whine as speech after speech lists all of the crimes of G. Brown, 1997-2007 and demands that the public stop falling for this terrible con. That would be a colossal waste of time, verbiage that would be lost immediately in the Blackpool sea winds.
The elephant trap set by Mr Brown is to drag the Tories back into a neurotic audit of his own past while he focuses on the future. The better response is to take him at his word — his word since he became PM — and to find him wanting.
The Tories should contrast Mr Brown's rhetoric since 27 June with the reality of policy. You've changed? Excellent. Citizens' juries and more systematic consultation are to be welcomed. So how about a referendum on the reheated EU Constitution? You're in favour of parental choice and personalised teaching, Mr Brown? Great. So how many city academies do you want to build and what, precisely, will their relationship with local authorities be? You believe in a personal NHS? Great, so do we. So how come you're closing all these maternity units?
Second, this week's election fever has partly been intended to panic the Tories into releasing all their policies at the conference, whether they are ready or not. The hope is that the party will lose its cool and effectively rush out the manifesto in Blackpool. Instead, Mr Cameron should focus calmly on answering the charge that he lacks substance, and reassure his party and the public with some policy nuggets, without launching his election campaign prematurely. He must flesh out his views on social responsibility, say more about what his philosophy means for patients and pupils, promise tough action on crime, spell out a robust immigration policy based on rules that work rather than mere rhetoric.
Third, and most important, Mr Brown hopes to panic the Tory leader into 'lurching to the right'. Why? Because he knows that the voters despise those who get scared into changing course dramatically, who publicly lose the courage of their professed convictions. It should not be forgotten that the strategy pursued by Mr Cameron since he became leader has achieved remarkable success in 'decontaminating the brand' and in diminishing voters' suspicion of policies when attributed to the Tories. For all the mockery that this strategy has invited, without it the Tories would not have held an opinion poll lead for as long as they did, or won more than 900 council seats in May.
What Mr Brown wants is for Mr Cameron to switch strategy, to retreat gasping to the Tory comfort zone. What he wants least is for the Conservative party to go even further, faster: to present itself confidently, not as a tribe on the run, but as the real force for change — a dynamic, reinvigorated movement that is straining at the leash to get into office and pursue its mission for the common good.
Two years ago, Mr Cameron won the Tory leadership in Blackpool with a speech of panache, sincerity and courage. Now, in the same seaside resort, he must dig even deeper to show that he deserves to be Prime Minister; that he is, truly, made of the right stuff.
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