Power behind the throne at Number Ten
After a decade of consecutive Conservative Party Governments commanding the reigns of power, it is apparent that they have failed to shrug off the Blairite doctrine that preceded them. In fact, one might ask whether there was a rotation of doctrine to begin with; certainly a change in personnel and party colours, but where was the dichotomy in policy, vision and overarching ideology — held with unsurmountable conviction — that should follow an election victory?
Almost all of Blair’s legacy has been embraced by the Conservative Party, which has carried it forward like the Olympic Torch on its way to the stadium. From the out-of-touch social liberalism to blind faith in the elitist economics of neoliberalism; the issue of Brexit was initially resisted by a large portion of Conservative MPs until the electorate forced their hand — having to do so again at the 2019 General Election.
But it is in the realm of the executive where Blair’s ghost continues to haunt the halls of Downing Street. Notoriously looking to side line the prerogative of Parliament in scrutinising his actions (a task his heir Boris Johnson has achieved through emergency Coronavirus powers) along with being unwilling to restrict himself to the centuries old role of ‘primus inter pares’ (Latin for ‘first among equals’) with his fellow cabinet, Blair succeeded in bolstering the power of the executive branch far beyond the authority any post-war Government ever dreamed of possessing. This was part and parcel of Blair’s scheme to ‘Americanise’ British politics (where do you think the ideas of devolved Assemblies and a Supreme Court originate from?).
A powerful executive results in authority resting in the careful hands of one figure, with the help of their advisers to feed them crucial information, and a cabinet to fine-tune and enact their intentions in specialised areas. Yet a problem which routinely crops up in this system is that, either through incompetency, self-interest, or both, the head of the executive is limited by those around him. When multiple ambitious figures dwell in the ecosystem, this leads to an internal power struggle — the outcome of the battle dependant on the actions of their boss, and more importantly, who has been able to win their favour.
Such a civil war has occurred very recently behind the doors of Ten Downing Street, as Boris Johnson fired Lee Cain, his Director of Communications, allegedly at the behest of his fiancée Carrie Symonds, who had reportedly opposed him being hired by the PM as his Chief of Staff (yet another Americanisation).
What does Symonds have to gain from this? After all, she is not an elected official, not even an appointed, qualified adviser. Her previous political experience revolves around working as a press officer for the Conservative Party, eventually reaching the heights of Head of Communications in 2018, resigning that same year. She has no skin in the Whitehall power game. So why has she formed a power bloc with the Home Secretary Priti Patel, Head of Downing Street Policy unit Munira Mizra, and last but not least, soon to be Press Briefings Secretary Allegra Stratton, to oust Cain, and now Dominic Cummings, one of Johnson’s closest advisers?
Never mind her intentions, she has no right to have this level of involvement — or any level of involvement. If she wishes to throw her hat into the ring of dirty politics, then the people can elect her as they did with her fiancée. Although I doubt (and wish) that the Tories do not survive another general election.
Johnson has left himself too vulnerable with the one who is closest to him, and when the apex of Government amasses this much power, expect much of it to be found behind the throne.