Whatever it Takes: The Real Story of Gordon Brown and New Labour. Steve Richards
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This was Brown the human being making authentic references to his father and childhood friends. Both had sustained him through the years. Brown then turned to defend his record:
I’m proud of much that the Labour Government has achieved, the minimum wage, the child tax credit, the NHS renewed, more police officers, half a million children out of poverty, two million more jobs than in 1997.
Brown went on to offer more extensive thanks and a defence of his long period in power. No leader with a future ahead of him would focus so much on friendship and the past, but Brown left the door ajar.
In listing the government’s achievements, and some of his own, he added at the end of each sentence:
That is what I have done … am doing … and continue to do.
His retrospective was accompanied by a defiant hint of future intent.
He and the Liberal Democrats were in agreement about the broad outlines of economic policy, and recently he had become an expedient, cautious supporter of electoral reform. He had become a convert in order to make the most of precisely these circumstances, a hung parliament.
Brown was waving goodbye and hinting that he might be willing to say hello one more time.
Soon after making his speech of conflicting messages Brown and his small entourage flew down to London. Election nights had always been highly charged for Brown even when Labour was winning landslides. In 1997 he had taken a similar flight in the early hours of an election morning wondering whether Tony Blair would give him the powers he sought. In 2001 he flew to London determined to force Blair to indicate his readiness to stand aside. In 2005 he made the short flight with a similar sense of angry resolution. Since 1997 the four post-election flights from Edinburgh to London for Brown had been troubled ones. Oddly, the short flight that took off at half past two in the morning on 7 May 2010 was the most positive. Although Labour was losing, Brown sensed he might be back in the game.
On his return to London Brown paid a brief visit to Labour’s headquaters at Westminster. After thanking staff he spoke to Peter Mandelson, who had been in charge of the campaign, and who advised him to get some sleep. But already Brown was focused on the task ahead, as if the immediate past had not happened. He took notes ferociously, attacking his notebook, as he explored the new political situation. Mandelson had been watching the television coverage like a hawk, as well as appearing on various news programmes to declare with emphatic, mischievous charm that the election was a defeat for the Conservatives. Since Brown’s leadership had turned into a form of hell he had turned to Mandelson as often as Blair had done after 1994. Both had a childlike dependence on a personality who displayed childish tendencies as well, although Mandelson had matured in recent years, keeping calm in the face of various media storms where once he would have erupted.
Famously, Brown had felt an irrational level of betrayal when Mandelson backed Blair in 1994, anger from which he never recovered and that led him dangerously astray. With Blair out of the way, Brown was able to purge his angry jealousy by having a similarly dependent relationship. At the end of long days as leader Blair used to proclaim: ‘Get me Peter.’ Tony was ‘addicted’ to Peter according to those who knew them both. Gordon had become an addict too, even though their relation in this final phase was still complicated, a potent mix of mutual doubt and intense relief that their old friendship had survived fourteen years of destructive enmity. Brown had invited Mandleson to become a cabinet minister in the autumn of 2008, an act that saved his leadership and highlighted how weak he had become. Together in yet another drama of uncertain outcome, on the Friday after an election they had jointly fought Mandelson told Brown that there was nothing he could do for a few hours, but the day ahead would be long. Sleep was best for now.
Uncharacteristically, Brown recognized that sleep was indeed a sensible option. He went to bed not knowing whether he was spending his final hours in Number Ten.
For others election night was sleepless. In particular the leader of the Liberal Democrats, Nick Clegg, was more or less staying awake through the night and into the next day. He had decisions to make, but was anyway in a state of mind not conducive to sleep as he was driven from his constituency in Sheffield to his home in Putney.
In the space of three weeks Clegg had twice been taken aback for wholly opposite reasons. During the campaign he and his wife Miriam had been shocked by the outbreak of ‘Cleggmania’, simultaneously exhilarated and slightly disturbed by the sudden switch from frustrated anonymity to indiscriminate adulation from voters and ferocious attacks from some newspapers. On the whole Clegg had been excited by the sudden transformation in his public status, but Miriam had her doubts about Clegg’s political venture from the beginning, intelligently sceptical about the theatrical dimension in British politics. During the campaign they had become the theatre. Even a rock star has more time to prepare for fame than the Cleggs.
Still, at least the hysteria had hinted at historic opportunities, and then the results on election night dashed his soaring hopes. Having adapted to Cleggmania during the campaign, Clegg now had to come to terms with anticlimax. Against all expectations the Liberal Democrats were performing worse in terms of seats than at the last election. The final outcome was close to the one predicted by the prematurely derided exit poll. The Conservatives had won 307 seats, Labour was second with 258 and the Liberal Democrats had 57.
According to one of his close aides, Clegg made his crucial moves on the Friday morning while feeling ‘shell-shocked’ from recent events. Often leaders respond to setbacks by becoming more assertive. On a more epic scale this was how Blair reacted to the catastrophe in Iraq, more determined than ever to seize control of the domestic agenda in spite of failing when allowed to roam free in the explosive field of foreign affairs. Similarly Clegg was sobered by the disappointing results, but he was more single-minded rather than less.
Several times during the campaign Clegg had insisted that the party that came ahead of the others in a hung parliament had the first right to attempt to form a government. His formulaic answer was more flexible than it seemed in some respects. Clegg never specified whether the number of seats or votes would be more decisive. In the event this did not matter. The Conservatives had won more votes and seats.
He had also been careful to avoid any suggestion that the first attempt at forming a government was bound to be successful. At the same time he knew that momentum plays a big part in uncertain political situations. On the Friday morning he was determined to stick to his word and give the early cards to the Conservatives. At this point he had the full support of his influential mentor, Paddy Ashdown. Both agreed that the parliamentary arithmetic compelled them to let the Conservatives move first. Ashdown also agreed with Clegg on the Friday morning that whatever else had happened, Labour had lost the election, and that the Liberal Democrats’ bargaining position was not as strong as they had hoped it would be. At this stage it had not crossed Ashdown’s mind that a coalition with Labour was feasible. Instead he was privately briefing journalists that the only options were a minority Conservative government or a Con/Lib arrangement.
With Brown still asleep in Number Ten, Clegg headed for his party’s headquarters in Westminster. He made a short statement confirming his view that the Conservatives should be given the first chance to form a government. Clegg delivered the words without having any idea how David Cameron would respond. He was sticking with what he believed to be his only legitimate response to an election that the Conservatives had almost won. His more ideologically inclined predecessors would almost certainly have been less accommodating to the Conservatives, but Clegg was the party’s first leader to be genuinely equidistant between the two other parties and in some respects closer to the Conservatives.
Soon after Brown emerged after a few hours’ sleep, Mandelson briefed him on what Clegg had said. Both agreed that they still had cards to play. Labour had fought the election pledged to hold a referendum on electoral reform and to campaign in favour of a Yes vote. The Conservatives were opposed to electoral reform and were not at this point offering a referendum. Brown was especially resolute, more so than Mandelson. ‘Clegg’s party won’t accept a deal with the Tories,’ he repeated several times. They agreed Brown must make a statement, but one that was restrained. Mandelson told him: ‘You must