Cameron at 10

by Anthony Seldon

  Within days, though, the gloves are off. Clegg vents months of frustration at Osborne when, on 5 April, he describes him as ‘a very dangerous man with a very dangerous plan and I’ll do everything in my power to stop it’.19 After months of phoney war, the real fight at last has begun.

  FORTY

  ‘If we lose’

  March–May 2015

  ‘I don’t get it. This is one of the best campaigns I’ve ever seen. All our candidates are saying: “We are getting such a good sense on the ground.” Yet it’s not making any impression on the polls or in the way the media is reporting the campaign,’ says an exasperated Cameron. It is Saturday 25 April, and he is holed up in Chequers, taking stock in the Hawtrey room of a disappointing first four weeks of the election campaign. With him are Craig Oliver, Liz Sugg, Lynton Crosby and Crosby’s business partner Mark Textor, who is running the party’s polling. The meeting has been called because of the chorus from the media, which is damaging to the party, saying that the Conservative campaign is failing because the polls aren’t shifting. While Ed Miliband and Labour are performing ahead of expectations, the Conservative campaign, and Cameron in particular, are under attack for being listless and overly regimented. They need to regroup and discuss adjustments that might be required. Cameron is aware of the personal criticism. He has heard it all before: back in the 2010 campaign, he was accused of lacking passion and coming over as detached, as if he didn’t truly want to be prime minister, or feeling that he had a God-given right to the job.

  The day before, Friday 24 April, sees Cameron campaigning in Clacton, Essex. It is a long day and his performance is flat until his final question, when he suddenly sparks into life, saying ‘I will tell you what I am fighting for: I am fighting for families, for all that really matters.’ His team suddenly jump to their feet, and one says ‘Wow, where did that come from?’ Cameron is still revved up when he speeds back to London in his car: ‘I’ve had enough of being told I’m not fighting for this, or not fighting that, or not fighting UKIP. I am going to give it straight.’1 But his mood collapses on Saturday. The day begins badly, with an article in The Times saying that ‘five years of Number 10 seem to have killed the Tory leader’s appetite for winning voters … Cameron is the skulking warrior who’d rather be in his tent. He does not need the electorate and, as Tory high-ups fear, he is not even desperate to win.’2 This view is echoed elsewhere: ‘Privately, Cabinet ministers [are] dismayed at Cameron’s performance and his lack of obvious desire and passion to win,’ says the Daily Telegraph.3

  That morning, in Croydon, he muddles up which football team he supports, saying ‘I would rather you support West Ham’ when he meant Aston Villa: aides say he is feeling exhausted, had earlier driven past West Ham, and is not thinking straight. Such slips trouble him. He realises it will be widely reported, and he is angry with himself. A meeting has been called at Chequers to address these destabilising concerns. Cameron knows he needs to come across with more passion and intensity if he is to convince wavering voters, and an email from Andrew Feldman telling him this reinforces the message. Cameron is naturally reticent, feeling he shouldn’t act the showman, but Feldman tells him that he agrees with those saying he needs to show more aggression to impress upon voters what is at stake and how much this election matters. Cameron’s mind is clearing by the time he joins the core campaign team for the meeting at Chequers.

  Do they need to tear things up and start again? Craig Oliver reminds him of one of his favourite expressions about panic: ‘There’s no need to set your hair on fire and run around screaming,’ he tells the PM. ‘The fundamentals are right. The media is bored of writing that our campaign is boring. Let’s give them the excuse they need to write something else.’ Crosby adds forcefully to Oliver’s argument. ‘Let’s use this criticism and turn the negativity to our advantage,’ he says. Sugg tells Cameron, ‘You are the best person to be prime minister. Go and show them why. Go out and fight. What will it be like to wake up on 8 May and feel like you haven’t given it every drop of effort?’4 Sugg had bumped into Oliver that morning in the hallway of 11 Downing Street and they compared notes: Oliver is one of those who believe the polls are wrong, but still thinks it is essential at this point in the campaign for Cameron to go up a gear. The team are unanimous that he needs to energise himself more, and agrees a statement to put out, that he will become more passionate as they enter a new stage in the campaign.

  The next morning, Sunday 26 April, aides notice a difference. The PM is tangibly more animated and has resolved in his own mind to let things rip. On the helicopter on the flight west to Yeovil in Somerset, he frantically writes down what he might say. An aide urges him on: ‘This is a turning point. Go for it.’ Cameron is almost too distracted to notice, absorbed in his usual routine of writing five pages of notes, then boiling them down to three, then one, then bullet points. His nose is still in his text as he is whisked away from the helicopter by car, driving past Paddy Ashdown’s house with posters for David Laws, the local MP, prominently on display. They arrive at a village in the constituency and are shown to the room at the back of the hall. ‘He was very fired up and ready to go. He bounded out of the room and jumped up on stage.’ His aides and protection team immediately notice a different prime minister. He has a new quality about him.

  Cameron carries the energy forward to the launch of the small-business manifesto on the Monday. Again, he springs up onto the stage at the Institute of Chartered Accountants in London, praising those starting small businesses for ‘taking a risk, having a punt, having a go, that pumps me up’. There is no stopping him: ‘If I am getting lively about it, it is because I feel bloody lively about it.’5 For the next few days, ‘It was a change of style, sleeves rolled up, no suit or tie – in the round, it felt different,’ says Osborne.6 Cameron has the kick-start he has needed. He starts feeling much better about himself: the lows are behind him and he begins enjoying the campaign again.

  The strategy of the campaign – the focus on economic competence and Miliband’s leadership – remains exactly as before, as does the emphasis on the SNP and on vital Lib Dem marginals. But a new self-belief is apparent in the team for much of the last ten days. They feel they have managed to change gear mid-campaign, in contrast to Labour ‘which has Miliband stuck in his suits, speaking from a lectern’, says one. ‘It worked in the first weeks of the campaign to present him as prime ministerial. But over a long campaign, it became monotonous.’ ‘They haven’t managed to reach inside themselves and find the thing to change: we have,’ says another. While they see Miliband’s campaign falter, and succumb to gimmicks, they maintain their focus.

  The Conservative campaign is the most strategic and scientific in the party’s history. Crosby runs it with military efficiency from CCHQ in the open-plan office in Matthew Parker Street near to Parliament. At the centre of the office is ‘the pod’ with Crosby sat in the middle. To his right sits Stephen Gilbert, who runs the ‘ground war’, the battle for marginal seats, and to his left sits Craig Oliver, running the ‘air war’, dealing with the media. Oliver has been working out of both Number 10 and CCHQ but bases himself permanently in CCHQ for the last few weeks of the campaign. Also at the desk is Mark Textor, whose speciality is the latest micro-targeting techniques. Textor crunches the overnight polls. Party chairman Andrew Feldman is important too, especially with his personal relationship with the PM. Party co-chairman Grant Shapps is effectively sidelined after a number of skirmishes with the media, including a controversy over his former business dealings. Jim Messina, campaign manager on Obama’s 2012 re-election campaign, gives advice principally on social media and online messaging in the latter stages. No other figures come close in importance to this group during the entire campaign.

  Crosby stresses the need to be proactive. They cannot let themselves be distracted by the media into making reactive statements that threaten the overall clarity of the campaign. Key to this vision is the economy: ‘The notion of our five-point economic
plan is that we are working for something better for people in the long-term, and are not just a bunch of opportunist politicians making short-term interventions,’ he says.7 Parties lose elections, he believes, when the voters aren’t sure what the core message is. Hence the imperative need for a plan for the future, underpinned by iron discipline. ‘On the whole, the campaign was very disciplined. One or two people needed some counselling, as always happens, but on the whole, it was pretty straightforward,’ he says.8 A series of Sunday evening meetings with Cameron’s inner circle had started before Christmas, where Crosby argues that the route to success is via the Lib Dem marginals, as Gilbert and his team had already identified. If all these seats can be taken, and Labour is held at bay in the marginal seats won in 2010, an outright majority is possible. Given Crosby’s force of character and understanding of voters in the marginals, even Cameron’s team are reticent to challenge his expertise. But they still push him back: ‘Can we really take all the seats off the Lib Dems?’

  To Oliver, the genius of Crosby lies in his ability not only to spot that the route to victory is ruthlessly targeting Lib Dem seats, but his ability to deliver it too.9 Cameron and Osborne flirted with the idea of an advertising blitz at the start of the year, with a series of billboards across the country, as in 2010, but Crosby is sceptical about the value of mass advertising campaigns, which play to the egos of politicians rather than targeting specific voters. In January they are presented with one of a number of poster ideas from Saatchi: ‘WELL DONE YOU’ it states simply, in black type on a white background. There is silence in the room for about a minute. Everyone looks at each other before Cameron says: ‘Maybe I’m not getting this, but isn’t that rather patronising?’ The Saatchi representative retorts: ‘That’s the point – it’s supposed to be controversial and prompt a debate.’ Osborne, initially attracted to the idea of a big poster campaign, now worries that the idea risks presenting a complacent view of the economic recovery. The proposed poster is shelved.

  Even before Cameron calls the general election on 30 March, a regular rhythm is established at CCHQ. At 5 a.m., Gilbert chairs the first meeting of the day, where the field team collate information from the previous day to assess what needs to be done. At 5.45, Crosby then chairs a meeting of Gilbert, Oliver and Textor, drawing on Gilbert’s information, Textor’s overnight polling and a report from CCHQ on the morning bulletins and newspapers. At 6.30, the third meeting of the day sees Llewellyn and Fall come from Number 10, and at 7.30, Cameron and Osborne join them, often face-to-face, but sometimes by conference call, where they discuss the key media appearances and interviews for the day. The final morning phone conference follows at 8.15 with the Cabinet, during which they are briefed by Crosby and Oliver. The day is bookended with a final meeting in the evening, again either face-to-face or by conference call. Cameron and Osborne always participate, and it is often the most decisive exchange of the day.

  Visits by Osborne and Cameron across the country are co-ordinated to complement each other. The public face of the 2015 Conservative campaign is essentially a double act between the two men, while other actors have only walk-on parts. Osborne had jointly run the campaign in 2010. He takes great pride in his skills as a campaign manager. But he doesn’t cavil now at ceding control to Crosby – partly because Crosby is meticulous in securing his and Cameron’s agreement for every single decision of importance. Whenever morale amongst the inner group dips with the refusal of the polls to move, or due to the constant media criticism, Crosby raises their spirits. He repeatedly focuses the team on his research, showing where the campaign needs to focus and which voters need to be targeted, especially in the critical Lib Dem marginals. Textor time and again underlines Crosby’s view that the election is winnable and that Cameron and the team should not start doubting themselves.

  Crosby’s iron discipline trumps even the manifesto, launched at Swindon University Technical College on 14 April, the day after Labour’s manifesto launch. Entitled Strong Leadership. A Clear Economic Plan. A Brighter, More Secure Future, the manifesto is the fruit of fifteen months of work overseen by Jo Johnson. Despite this, Cameron had ordered it to be rewritten in February around the theme of ‘security’. The policies did not change, but the structure did, with a new emphasis placed on security at every stage of life. It includes the doubling of free childcare for three- and four-year-olds to thirty hours a week, an extension of the right to buy, and a guarantee that those on minimum wage will pay no income tax by the end of the next parliament. But the emphasis on the campaign remains a focus on leadership and economic competence, rather than policy prescription. Party research shows that the public are sceptical about the details of policies, and the decision is therefore taken to keep the campaign focused rigidly on the key issues.

  Cameron’s biggest regret of the 2010 general election is that he agreed to the three televised debates during the ‘short’ campaign, which he feels sucked the oxygen out of it, absorbed far too much of his own time, and left him just a few days at the end to put his case to the country personally. Cooper, Feldman, and, above all, Crosby are clear that the same format must not be repeated in 2015. Oliver and Llewellyn are in the middle, concerned about the potential damage if Cameron is blamed for refusing to participate and none take place. It becomes apparent that they cannot avoid them altogether. Cameron personally believes that because a fixed-term parliament means that broadcasters know when the election will be, debates can be planned for February or early March, well before the campaign begins.

  The team have two overriding concerns. They have been saying for months that Miliband is a weak leader; so if he takes part in a head-to-head with Cameron, ‘anything better than Miliband defecating on the stage will be a plus for Labour’. Farage, they believe, is a fading star; so any extra television exposure for him will only add to his credit. There are months of negotiations. Cameron’s team become locked into a major fight with the broadcasters, who they say are ignoring their requests for an early spring debate and are then trying to bully them into participating. The broadcasters, they believe, then add insult to injury by wanting UKIP to be represented. The negotiations produce ‘a lot of drama’, according to one senior aide. They have a fine judgement call: balancing the certainty of the accusation that Cameron is scared of participating against the high risk that Miliband and Farage will receive a boost, as Clegg did in 2010. They decide to hold their line. Oliver has to face down broadcasters threatening to ‘empty chair’ the PM. Oliver’s discussions with the BBC’s director of news and former editor of The Times, James Harding, produce the idea of a single, seven-way leader debate to include the leaders of the SNP, Plaid Cymru, UKIP and the Greens, as well as the three established parties. By giving Nicola Sturgeon, whose popularity in Scotland is on the rise, such a high profile, Cameron’s team believe the potential damage to Miliband and Labour could more than outweigh any damage Farage might do the Conservatives. Agreement is reached eventually on the seven-way debate, as well as back-to-back interviews with Cameron and Miliband in front of a live studio audience, and a ‘challengers’ debate’, omitting Cameron and Clegg, to be held on 16 April. They further agree that Cameron will appear alongside Miliband and Clegg at a special BBC Question Time on 30 April, as happened in the 2005 campaign.

  On 5 March, Downing Street announces formally that Cameron will take part in only one televised debate, with the seven party leaders. Jim Messina’s counsel has been important in helping them reach this decision, arguing from his experience in the US that a seven-way debate would be substantially less risky to the Conservative cause than a two- or three-hander. A backlash does indeed come, articulated strongly in The Times: ‘Number 10’s arrogant “final offer” to participate in just one seven-person debate before the campaign officially starts risks reinforcing the worst stereotype of the Tories as high-handed “born to rule” grandees.’10

  The first television contest that Cameron faces is Jeremy Paxman on Channel 4 and Sky News on 26 March, alongsi
de Miliband. Cameron has not trusted the former Newsnight presenter since he was interviewed as a leadership candidate in November 2005. After being asked if he knew what a ‘pink pussy’ was, the two fell out badly, and Cameron has tried to avoid Paxman ever since. He is unusually nervous before the programme, knowing that Paxman has nothing to lose, and as the incumbent he will be given the harder ride of the two interviewees. When the interview begins, his anxiety is palpable. Cameron’s team are not surprised by Paxman’s aggressive questioning, particularly over ‘zero hours’ contracts. Cameron is unsettled by the encounter, but when he talks it over afterwards with the team, his spirits rise, and he thinks he did better when interacting with the studio audience.

  A week later on 2 April comes the seven-way debate on ITV, moderated by Julie Etchingham. Cameron is selected to speak last. He spends ten to fifteen hours preparing for it, a significant chunk of his time, though far less than he spent in 2010. Bill Knapp, who had worked on Obama’s 2008 election campaign and who had helped Cameron with the debates in 2010, is brought back from the US to offer advice. His core strategy is not to get dragged into the argument, but to let the other speakers slug it out. Llewellyn and Fall think Cameron makes a strong start with his initial speech, then fades a bit, but overall they are happy, principally because neither Miliband nor Farage shine. ‘Do no harm’ is the advice Cameron has taken to heart, an approach that his team feel is vindicated by the public reaction to his performance. Sturgeon is widely perceived to have ‘won’ the debate, and as soon as it is over, Crosby pushes out the line that Sturgeon is therefore a disaster for Miliband.11