Unleashing Demons

by Craig Oliver

  We go through the Commission briefing and spell out what we need to do to shift it.

  The conversation turns to the fact the Home Secretary still hasn’t told us where she is going – leading the Out campaign, or sticking with us. Just before take-off, DC looks wistfully out of the window and says, ‘Well, it may work for her. She could be PM in six months’ time.’

  Meanwhile texts are flying in from panicky people – one from Nick Boles, a minister in the Business Department, saying the emergency brake isn’t enough.

  We take off with an extraordinary amount of thrust into the wind.

  Having landed in Brussels, we are whizzed into the characterless UKREP, where Jonathan Hill is waiting for us, having just seen Jean-Claude Juncker, the President of the European Commission. Coffee is brought to us in two giant cafetières. It tastes disgusting and everyone winces. He leans over to me and says, ‘I think that’s instant coffee that they’ve just stuck in there …’

  He briefs the PM, saying he started by telling Juncker, and Martin Selmayr, his chief of staff who is seen by many as the power behind the throne, that all of the blabbing to the press is completely unhelpful. Apparently Selmayr agreed, saying, ‘Yes. The British must stop this.’ Everyone took a moment to process the fact that he could be so brazen.

  Despite all the issues, Jonathan Hill is confident we can do a good deal: ‘They just want to take one of their problems off the table.’

  While DC disappears into a lunch with Juncker and the negotiating teams, Helen Bower and I go to talk to the Brussels press pack. So many of their questions are crawling through the minutiae. I really don’t envy them – writing about stuff most people aren’t even aware of, let alone care about.

  When we link up with the PM again, he says, ‘That went well!’, telling us everything is going in our direction, not least that they appear to have accepted that the emergency brake on welfare would apply now.

  All weekend, in London and in Brussels, the negotiating team work on the first version of the draft document that’s about to be released.

  Come Sunday afternoon we sit round the oak table in the Thatcher Room in No. 10 to be talked through it, under the glare of the Iron Lady’s portrait. The conversation turns to the emergency brake on welfare. It goes round and round so much that everyone is relieved when the PM says, ‘You’re confusing everyone, break it down.’

  They do:

  We want it triggered now.

  It needs to be renewable.

  It should apply for a minimum of seven years.

  The Prime Minister goes into a meeting with Theresa May, Philip Hammond and George Osborne in his study. While they are in there, various people try to read the runes on where Theresa May is going to land in terms of Remain or Leave. Some think she is heading out; others that she simply relishes keeping us guessing; others that she simply can’t make up her mind. My guess is she sees her strategy as setting herself apart – trying to demonstrate she is her own person.

  Donald Tusk, the President of the European Council, arrives and DC goes in to dinner with him. A few of us eat the same food in the state dining room. Silver service waiters give us gravadlax, roast beef and pear crumble. The wine is excellent and we’re all enjoying it a bit too much, when after only ninety minutes, dinner breaks up.

  We rush down to the study – where DC can hardly wait to get away. I ask him to hold his horses to get the headlines. It’s been agreed that there will be another twenty-four hours of negotiation on the text – this is a good sign as it means we can get more. It’s also been agreed that an emergency brake on welfare would apply in the current circumstances. It means we have got our four-year ban on benefits for migrants, though the details on whether it is temporary or renewable aren’t clear.

  The meeting breaks up and I have a separate discussion with the comms team in my office. While we are talking it emerges that Tusk was asked if there had been a deal walking out the front door. He responded rather brusquely, ‘No deal.’

  The media is confused – is it all falling apart? We then sweep in to tell them it’s going to plan. They aren’t quite sure what’s up and what’s down.

  FEBRUARY

  Chapter 5

  Who Do EU Think You Are Kidding?

  AS FEBRUARY BEGINS, we are racing towards the first draft of the negotiated settlement with the EU being released and the prospect of a full deal in a fortnight. That means we’ll be calling for a June referendum. It’s by no means certain we can get the bill to make that happen through Parliament. We will be relying on Labour. DC says he normally doesn’t like going for a vote without a clear idea of where he’ll land, but he’s prepared to do so in this case.

  The next big question is posed by the civil service: ‘Is Chris Grayling going to be expected to defend the Government’s position on this draft deal before collective responsibility on Europe has ended?’ We are holding the line that collective responsibility applies right up to a decision in the Cabinet after the council. What no one seems to want to admit is, in reality, we are campaigning now. No one seriously thinks we’re going to suggest anything other than to stay in. The ‘I rule nothing out’ line is increasingly threadbare. We’re planning a major speech at the Siemens factory in Chippenham tomorrow, which will be a signpost that we believe we are well on the way to a deal and suggesting that, with an enhanced special status, we should remain in the EU.

  We talk about how we will use key moments to explain what we are up to and how we will try to get the PM to educate about Europe. DC says, ‘My approach has not been to overturn the table and shout – I’ve patiently explained and worked with people.’ It’s agreed he’ll say that publicly, demonstrating that he is the patient grown-up, ‘[who] doesn’t believe in more uncertainty at a time of uncertainty.’

  We also agree we need to use the advantage of being in Government to release a steady stream of stories showing progress. We create a grid to claim various successes in the renegotiation, including getting an agreement that if fifty-five per cent of parliaments are agreed, they can wave a red flag to any European legislation. We hope to create momentum, while the Outers have to react to us.

  I have a hilarious meeting with the Home Office SpAds. We wend our way through the key items in their in-tray. I use the ‘Any other business’ item at the end of the agenda to tease them a little. I say if we get a deal at the February Council, it will be a key moment for the negotiating team, in which Theresa has been a central figure, to make the case for remaining. One of them blurts out, ‘Theresa will be away that week!’

  ‘Yes, but she’ll be back on the day … We’ll need to get lots of voices out.’

  ‘She’s going away that weekend with Philip!’ is the rushed response after a couple of seconds of thinking time.

  ‘Yes. But she’ll be back on the Monday, and that will be a crucial time,’ I continue patiently. They assure me they’re more than willing to help and will get back to me.

  The front page of The Times the next day looks briefed by people close to Theresa May. It says DC ‘faces last-minute opposition from her to a compromise on migration’. She wants, among other things, Brussels to close a back-door route into Britain that’s being used by migrants from outside the EU.

  It says it’s leading to fears in No. 10 that she could refuse to back the reform deal.

  Everyone takes a deep breath and reminds themselves the concerns being briefed are all being dealt with in the document. In other words, they can’t be used to say the deal is weak.

  There’s another, bigger problem. The word ‘phasing’ hasn’t cropped up in any discussion we’ve had in the renegotiation. We’ve been pushing for a simple four-year migrant benefits ban. Now it emerges the document will say in-work benefits will start at zero and be ‘graduated’ or increased over time. What does that mean? Does it neuter it?

  Cabinet involves a section where the PM takes everyone through where we are on the renegotiation. There’s a moment where Chris Grayling points out t
hat the argument is being had now, so can people be allowed to speak out now? The PM tries to sound emollient, saying, ‘The Government’s position has got to be that we keep good order while the negotiation is ongoing.’ But his message is clear: collective responsibility pertains until a deal is done and Cabinet has met.

  Looking round the room I can see that people are sitting forward, their attention heightened. No one fights back, though. The point is, the PM wrote a letter to them spelling this out a few weeks ago – they didn’t complain then, so they can hardly complain now. It’s not long after Cabinet has broken up before I get calls suggesting the PM has said we can be relaxed about people blurring the lines. Some ministers have clearly been briefing journalists. I’m hardline – that is certainly not what he said.

  With journalists I trust a little more, I plant the seed, ‘People feel strongly about this. If they want to speak out, they have another option.’ In other words: if they feel that strongly, they can always resign on principle. No one does.

  With Cabinet done, we knock off a clip for the lunchtime news and get the train to Chippenham for the big speech. My view is that the PM needs to look utterly confident – constantly pulling back to the big picture, while everyone else tries to drag him into the weeds. You wanted me to end migrants getting welfare benefits for doing nothing? I’m doing it. You said it would be impossible for me to get a four-year benefit ban? Well, it’s happening.

  He sits in First Class with a black marker gathering his thoughts on a sheet of A4. He is visibly wound up by the Times front page. Suddenly he picks up his mobile and is calling Theresa May, asking her to make clear we have been victorious in our plan to crack down on ‘swindlers and fiddlers’ attempting to come into the UK. When he hangs up, DC seems to think he’s made an impact.

  The Siemens factory in Chippenham looks like it could do with a makeover. DC wants to do his speech ‘sleeves rolled up’. I think this is a moment for him in a suit and tie. He says, ‘I always think you look like a bit of a fool in a factory in a suit and tie.’ We compromise on him doing it with his jacket off.

  He gives it some welly. The workers hear him in respectful silence – rewarding him with a round of applause. DC feels he ‘made it simple’, essentially making the case for why Britain should stay in a reformed EU. He does well, but I wonder how many minds were still focused when we got to ‘subsidiarity’.

  In the car from the speech to the helicopter, I get the PM to call Tony Gallagher, the editor of the Sun, attempting to push how remaining in the EU works for working people.

  The helicopter is circling above a pleasant military outpost, while we look up from a field below. When it lands, we wait for its blades to calm and we climb on board. The sun is out and we approach London from the south-west, providing the most stunning views of the city I’ve ever seen: the glistening river snaking through all the landmarks towards the horizon.

  In the car at the other end I raise John Witherow, the editor of The Times, and then Lionel Barber from the FT. They listen respectfully as DC explains the latest to them.

  As soon as we arrive in No. 10, the PM has a call with Barack Obama.

  DC does it at his desk. The rest of us listen on a ‘spiderphone’ elsewhere. After a short wait, a woman from the White House says, ‘Introducing Prime Minister David Cameron.’ The President sounds even more laid back than usual – referring to the PM as ‘brother’ and engaging in a lot of verbal back-slapping. DC asks him about his recent TV programme in the wilderness with Bear Grylls. Obama says he loved working with ‘the stud’ – though the security services would only let him do so much.

  Finally Obama asks what he can do to help the UK stay in the EU. He evidently believes it is the right thing for the country, and it would be a great loss to the US and our own standing in the world if we left. He says he will come towards the end of April, which could well be the perfect time.

  When the call has ended, there are two pieces of good news. First, the Labour party won’t oppose any attempt to have an early referendum. Second, DC’s call to Theresa May seems to have worked. She’s issued a statement saying she believes there’s ‘the basis for a deal here’. This is immediately interpreted as the moment she has climbed down off the fence and chosen a side. After all the concern around her, it seems to have ended not with a bang, but a whimper.

  The PM and I usually see newspaper editors together. The one exception is the legendary editor of the Daily Mail, Paul Dacre. I make a point of going and finding him in the waiting room. He’s well dressed in what could be a classic Savile Row suit and I wonder what he makes of this tiny dimly lit room, with a couple of clapped-out armchairs and a water machine with clear plastic cups. Only in Britain would the head of government welcome the great and the good this way. In the hallway outside there’s a tea stain on the carpet and some gaffer tape holding together a particularly threadbare section.

  I ask him what he made of the PM’s speech today, full well knowing the answer, and he laughs, and gives me a friendly tap on the shoulder. We both know it’ll get the Mail attack treatment tomorrow.

  The PM arrives and I let them disappear upstairs together – taking the opportunity to slip off home. DC calls me to say it wasn’t so bad: ‘I asked him when the Daily Mail became a great advocate for Out.’ He can’t recall it having been such a great theme. He says he pointed out that this was the paper that supported Ken Clarke’s leadership bid. Paul Dacre claimed he could have persuaded him on Europe, to which DC asked, ‘Have you met Ken Clarke?’

  I warn DC that tomorrow’s papers will be a car crash on Europe, but on the plus side, the Out camp are in disarray, taking a major blow in not landing Theresa May.

  On Wednesday 3 February, the papers are indeed brutal – having seen the draft renegotiation document and heard the speech.

  The Sun plays on the current Dad’s Army revival theme with DC dressed to look like Captain Mainwaring, and the headline: ‘Who do EU think you are kidding, Mr Cameron?’ The sub-headline is: ‘He caves in over benefits; Brake on Laws is Bogus; No Control of Our Borders.’

  It’s not subtle and it’s hardly surprising. We’d always known they were going to throw a bucket of shit over the draft deal.

  However DC is feeling pretty bullish about it. Others are concerned that Brussels effectively doing their negotiating in public is a serious problem for us – making a basic error of giving away too much detail about the process. The official and final deal won’t be completed for a fortnight. In news terms this is an eternity – endless opportunities to pick away at something that is complex and unpopular with much of the press, without another major event to move things along. It would be better to publish the deal cold in a fortnight, explain its significance, and then be straight into the campaign.

  As the PM sits in his armchair and prepares for PMQs and his Commons statement, he leans forward and proclaims, ‘Maastricht, Nice, Amsterdam, Brussels. Thatcher, Major, Blair, Brown – all of them have stood at the despatch box and declared they are handing powers over to Europe. I am bringing them back.’

  He goes on, ‘There have been two ways in which Europe has increased its powers: through treaty change and the European Court of Justice. I am standing here saying I have stopped that.’ Anyone who has ever had anything to do with Brussels is convinced this is a significant deal.

  Despite this, others are proving hard to convince. I run into ultra-loyalist Jeremy Hunt on the way to PMQs. He tells me he’s happy to go on Marr, while confiding he, too, thinks the deal is a difficult sell.

  And there are editorials saying: ‘Even the most loyal Cameron supporter would admit that the draft text from the European Council is a long way from what the PM and the Tory manifesto promised.’

  Jeremy Corbyn dismisses the whole thing as a Conservative drama – effectively claiming the renegotiation is a vast magic show, designed with many distractions.

  An MP who is an old friend has a cup of tea with me. He says most Tory backbenchers are hat
ing every second of this. They’ve traded on Euroscepticism for years and now they are standing on the edge of the precipice, they’re realising they should have been careful what they wished for. He is clear this is a must-win situation for us, saying if we lose, ‘They will come for us in numbers.’ He means DC’s enemies and those who believe they will fare better under a new leader.

  He also believes that some MPs have taken the decision to go for Out, while not actually believing it – hoping it will make them popular with their local party associations, but thinking it will never actually happen. Now they are realising that they have only added momentum to a campaign that could prove unstoppable.

  The next day the Mail has an extraordinary front page, headlined: ‘Who Will Speak for England?’

  It is so over the top, it seems like a parody. ‘Today the Mail asks a question of profound significance to our destiny as a sovereign nation and the fate of our children and grandchildren.’ It goes on to say that its headline is inspired by the events of 2 September 1939 – the day after Hitler invaded Poland and Neville Chamberlain gave an ambivalent statement to the Commons. As the Labour party deputy leader was set to respond, Tory backbencher Leo Emery bellowed, ‘Speak for England!’

  It’s a curious comparison. Parliament debating on the eve of the Second World War, the pivotal event of the twentieth century, and people now deciding how they feel ahead of a debate to leave the EU. A few paragraphs down, the paper agrees that it would be absurd to draw a parallel between the EU and the Nazis, which begs the obvious question.

  Of course, they’re hoping to tempt big figures into realising that leading the Leave campaign could be a real career opportunity. Theresa is no longer an option, but what about Boris? What will Gove do?

  On seeing the paper and hearing that Nigel Lawson is to be on the board of one of the Leave campaigns, a senior figure marches me down the corridor of No. 11, takes me to the stairs leading to the PM’s flat and shows me a cartoon on the wall. It shows John Major and Margaret Thatcher rowing in opposite directions, with Major taking us towards European Monetary Union. On the riverbank are people urging in or out. His point is that Lawson, now an Outer, was part of those taking us deeper into this project.