What Mr Cameron should have said about belonging to White’s
Most of those who write and talk about politics have it the wrong way round. In the Conservative leadership election, it is Mr Cameron who is the traditionalist and Mr Davis who is the moderniser.
That is no reason for preferring one to the other. It is something neutral. History suggests, however, that the Camerons have led the party through much of its life. Nearly all prominent Conservatives have emphasised the importance of change. ‘Change is our ally,’ said one who was typical of their number (Eden). But they wanted the change to be evolutionary. The Davises only become prominent with Margaret Thatcher. Such was the state of the country that she, and they, wanted change soon. Most previous Conservatives of any importance would feel comfortable with Mr Cameron. He is one of them. Not all of them would feel comfortable with Mr Davis.
Mr Cameron, among the other traditionalist influences which he exercises, is causing the old Tory language to revive. It is a dialect. For example, fluent speakers of Old Tory are never adversely critical of fellow Conservatives except to people to whom they are exceptionally close. Since few politicians are close to one another, that is few. In their language, they differ from Labour, Old or New. Labour politicians in private rarely have a good word to say about one another. They assume that all the others are on the make. Conservatives might think that about one another too, but seldom say it. Thus, since Mr Cameron’s rise, club, smoking-room and countryweekend now ring with the old language. It is how they would have spoken even in the act of doing down Rab, Harold or Alec; even in the act of doing down the one and raising up the other.
‘D’you know, I think the leadership election has been awfully good for the party. I’ve voted for Cameron, of course, but we’re lucky to have both Davids. The more Davids in the party the better. Look at Willetts. He’s a David too. In fact, he’s been for both the other Davids in this election. He started out for David Cameron. Then he went over to David Davis. After Blackpool he wanted to go back to David Cameron. But apparently his name was already down in some pamphlet for David Davis, and the David Davis people talked him out of it. But I’m sure he ended up on both sides, as he has every right to.
‘Splendid chap, Willetts. It’s no accident that he’s a David. In fact, it would be more convenient if all Tories were in future christened David. Unless of course they are Muslims or women, both of which we need more of in the party and David is the man to bring them in. Any David, in fact, since this leadership election has shown that what unites Davids is much greater than what divides them, despite what the BBC and the rest of the media say.’ That is what to say in, for example, White’s. Mention of this establishment is further proof of Mr Cameron’s traditionalism. This is the first Conservative leadership contest since 1963 (which Douglas-Home won) or 1957 (Macmillan) in which White’s has had any signifance at all or even been mentioned. It was the only subject in contest about which Mr Cameron appeared to lack confidence.
It had been discovered that he was a member. A television interviewer, possibly a Dimbleby, asked him about it two weeks ago. It must be admitted that his reply was unimpressive. He said he was a member because his father liked occasionally to dine there. Someone told me that his father had in fact been the club’s chairman, though I have no proof of that, in today’s climate, damaging accusation. Given that climate, we may sympathise, however, with Mr Cameron’s predicament. The question was McCarthyite.
‘Are you now, or have you ever been, a member of White’s?’ ‘Er, well, er ... ’ ‘Answer the question, Mr Cameron.’ ‘Well, my father ... yes, I mean, no ... You’ve got to understand the historical context ... I did it only for my father and the bread and butter pudding.’ ‘So the answer to the question is: yes.’ ‘Yes. That is, no. Or rather, not really. But what is important is that the party should change.’ ‘So you’ve changed clubs, then?’ ‘No. They’re ruthless people. They don’t let anyone leave. They’d take my father hostage. They’d never let him out.’ ‘It sounds as if that’s what he’d like.’ ‘But he’d still like the occasional trip abroad: that is, across the street to Brooks’s.’ Mr Cameron’s mishandling of his White’s past should not disqualify him from becoming Conservative leader, but mishandle it he did. What he should have said was that he joined when he was young. Like many young men, he was idealistic to the point of naivety. By joining White’s he thought he was helping to create a new world: a world in which anyone could enter that famous bar and sink a few pre-lunch dry martinis under Nicholas Soames’s rule, proceeding to table under Mr Soames’s inspirational guidance.
Mr Soames bewitched an entire generation of non-intellectuals. The young Cameron knew nothing of the untold numbers of innocent pheasants, grouse, partridge and guinea fowl which the Soames regime had murdered during the Great Gulp Downward. If Mr Cameron had protested, he would at best have been sent to the Garrick. It is unlikely that he would have been able to rescue his father. In any case, his father was not of an age at which he could be expected to survive a Garrick sentence. Many members of the Garrick do not shoot — that is, except in arts reviews and newspaper columns one another. Instead, Mr Cameron decided to stay in White’s and await the collapse of Mr Soames’s appetite. That has not yet happened. History will judge whether Mr Cameron is right or wrong. But one thing is sure: Mr Cameron, Mr Davis, Mr Willetts, Mr Soames, White’s — we are lucky to have them all.
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