POLITICS
Alastair Campbell's mistake is to assume that everyone else is like him
BRUCE ANDERSON
It is impossible to dislike Alastair Camp- bell, the PM's press secretary; he is such a cheerful rogue. At the moment, in the wake of the Blair-Prodi telephone calls, Mr Campbell is more than usually pleased with himself, because no journalist has yet taken up his invitation to call him a liar. But this is a more fragile basis for self-esteem than Mr Campbell seems to realise. There is no need for semantic disputes over the word `lie'; it is clear that No. 10's initial account of Mr Blair's dealings with Signor Prodi was misleading, as was the Prime Minister's subsequent clarification. He did no more for Mr Murdoch, he tells us, that he would have done for any British businessman. Really? Any businessman? Perhaps it would have been wiser — and more truth- ful — of Mr Blair to say that the help avail- able to Rupert Murdoch would also be available to any American citizen who con- trolled important media outlets, and was prepared to instruct some of them to sup- port the Labour party.
Nor was the Prodi affair an isolated lapse. A pattern is emerging. As we saw with Lord Simon, Lord Irvine, Bernie Ecclestone and Geoffrey Robinson, if an inconvenient truth emerges, No. 10's first instinct is to suppress it by giving briefings which are deliberately designed to mislead. The new government has still not learned the Nixon lesson: that the cover-up can get you into more trouble than the original crime would have.
Mr Campbell himself is at fault here, though the blame has to be qualified, given the inadequacy of his moral training. He spent most of his journalistic career at the lowest end of the tabloid market, on news- papers where truth is an optional extra in news stories, as is self-respect among the journalists who write them. Mr Campbell hero-worshipped Robert Maxwell, and appears to have learned some tricks from his late master, especially braggadocio and bullying, as in his memos to Harriet Har- man and Frank Field. This is the way he generally writes to most ministers, and that is unprecedented.
Whitehall is notorious for its elaborate courtesies, with rebukes administered — if at all — by raised eyebrows and clearings of the throat: `Ah, Perkins, old man; the Peli- can affair doesn't seem to be turning out quite as we had anticipated.' There are also conventions which used to govern prime ministerial tellings-off. Instead of the PM writing directly to the defaulting minister, a member of the No. 10 private office would write to the minister's private secretary, using him as a whipping-boy. Margaret Thatcher was fully capable of being peremptory with her colleagues, but even she observed the proprieties. When which was often — she wanted to blast Geoffrey Howe in his days as foreign secre- tary, Charles Powell would send a note to Sir Geoffrey's private office. Everyone in Whitehall knew what was meant, and Mr Powell's notes occasioned much discreet chuckling; his prose usually had a sharp edge. But even Charles Powell — or Bernard Ingham — would never have writ- ten directly to ministers in the way that Alastair Campbell does.
Nor is he always wise in his choice of tar- gets. It is fair enough to bully Harriet Har- man. She deserves it, and has no means of retaliation. A charmless incompetent, who owes her survival in government solely to her photogenic attributes, Miss Harman will endure any humiliation if only she can cling to office. But Frank Field is another matter. Mr Field is a proud, fastidious and sometimes prickly man. Infinitely abler and more principled than his nominal boss, Miss Harman, he requires subtler and more respectful handling.
It was widely thought that Frank Field would find it hard to adapt to the routines and disciplines of office, but as Matthew d'Ancona has perceptively observed, he is not without ambition and has proved more adept than had been expected at making the necessary political compromises. But there are limits, and Mr Campbell may have come close to reaching them. There is a streak of hardness and disdain in Frank Field; in his pre-ministerial days he would not have had much time for someone like Alastair Campbell. Equally, Mr Campbell did not meet many people like Frank Field at Robert Maxwell's court.
Alastair Campbell has never read much, nor has he thought deeply about politics. He has, or had, some naive socialist princi- ples, on which he has now superimposed opportunism and love of power. But he makes the same mistake that a lot of thoughtless people do; he assumes that everyone else in the world is just like him. That may be true of a majority of members of the government; it is not true of Frank Field.
Nor of the House of Lords. Tuesday's Telegraph recorded an extraordinary brief- ing by an unnamed member of the govern- ment. The tone of voice sounded like Lord Irvine, except that these days, the Lord Chancellor is mainly preoccupied with inte- rior decoration. The gist of the remarks was that the Tory peers had better watch it; the government would ensure that any of them who opposed its plans for Lords reform would be denied life peerages. This pro- vides a fascinating insight into the govern- ment's mindset; its belief that everyone in public life will behave like its own minis- ters. In reality, however, the Telegraph briefing will have the opposite effect to that intended; it will stiffen resistance in the House of Lords.
A lot of agonising is taking place these days among their Tory Lordships. As has happened at regular intervals since 1909, prominent Conservative peers are torn between their attachment to the present House's composition and their fears that the composition places undue limits on its powers. The government could exploit this high-mindedness, but only if it produced a well-thought-out proposal for Lords reform, which would probably mean a largely elected Chamber. But the problems of Lords reform have defeated previous ministries which were prepared to think hard. They will not be solved by a set of ministers whose idea of long-term planning is organising tomorrow's headlines. Above all, they will not be solved by bribery and intimidation. Downing Street will not be able to treat the House of Lords in the way it treats government ministers.
There is an increasingly sharp contrast between Mr Blair's smile and every other aspect of the administration which he runs. Fortunately for Labour, it is the smile which dominates the opinion polls, with the help of the economy, but this is a bullying, cynical and mean-spirited government, solely interested in its own re-election and full of idle and ineffective ministers who are far more interested in the perquisites of office than in the principles which ought to animate office. Member for member, the Cabinet is significantly less impressive than John MajorN last Cabinet was — but fortu- nately for Mr Blair, that is not the public's impression, and this is a government for which impression is all.
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