In his circus tent, Stewart made most of his rivals look like reality TV wannabes
RORY Stewart is different from the other Tory leadership contenders in just about every significant way. And just about every insignificant way, too.
All the rest have launched their campaigns in the usual stuffy and soulless Westminster conference rooms. Yesterday evening, Mr Stewart launched his campaign in a crimson circus tent.
It sounds eccentric. But I’d rather say idiosyncratic. Because – apart from the odd semi-mystical flourish about “energy” and “the wisdom of humility” – Mr Stewart’s speech wasn’t dismissible as quirky or daft, an amusing little sideshow.
It was serious. It showed intelligence, wit, maturity, and real feeling. It extolled such unfashionable conservative virtues as moderation, and the spirit of compromise, and economic prudence, and realism (“I’m a Conservative because I’m a realist… I’m a Conservative because I believe in prudence. In that, I’m more of a Conservative than anybody in this race”). And it elegantly dismantled what he called the “fairy stories” of both Jeremy Corbyn, and the leadership rivals who believe, or claim to believe, that a no-deal Brexit would be easy.
His way of answering questions marked him out from his rivals, too. His answers were direct, without the customary sneaky evasions; but they were also reflective, discursive, well structured, thought through. Not sound bites, but little off-the-cuff essays. More importantly than that, he didn’t simply tell the person in the audience what he or she wanted to hear. No doubt many of his supporters – and there must have been 500 people in the tent – are wistful Remainers. Two anti-brexit campaigners urged him to back a second referendum, or cancel Brexit altogether. He declined, but respectfully, and without the usual table-thumping clichés about traitors and The Will of The People.
In short, yesterday evening Mr Stewart made most of his rivals look like what they are: contestants on The
Apprentice. Reality TV wannabes. Glib, shiny, superficial, and, as far as the viewer can make out, desperate to win for no better reason than winning itself.
In sane times, Mr Stewart would storm this contest. These are not sane times.
Two other contenders launched their campaigns yesterday. First: Andrea Leadsom.
Whenever I listen to Mrs Leadsom, I picture a certain sort of England. An England of well-to-do villages and immaculate suburbs. An England of bunting, twinsets, Waitrose, Wimbledon, personalised stationery and home-made lemon drizzle cake.
In both appearance and demeanour, Mrs Leadsom somehow embodies it. She always seems so nice, so terribly nice. Her smile is always sunlit, her manners faultless, and her voice a cheery little sing-song, with just the faintest undertow of menace. June Whitfield would have played her beautifully.
Yesterday she made a speech near Parliament. The slogan on the wall behind her promised “Decisive & Compassionate Leadership”. The “Decisive” was a Tory blue, and the “Compassionate” a cuddly pink. Her mission, she said brightly, was to “build a healthier and happier society”, so that “every person in our great country” is able “to be the very best they can be”. It was all very nice.
The most notable line, though, was this. “We all,” said Mrs Leadsom, “have a shared stake in our future.” Without context, the significance of this seemingly anodyne remark may not be obvious. But in 2016, Mrs Leadsom’s previous leadership bid was wrecked when she said that “being a mum” gave her “a very real stake in the future” – unlike, by implication, Theresa May, who is childless.
But for that one horrible misstep, Mrs Leadsom might have been prime minister. Yesterday, she stressed the word “all” very, very firmly.
The other launch of the day was held by a rank outsider: Mark Harper, the one-time Chief Whip. Not much was known about Mr Harper before his launch, and not much more was known about him after it. One thing he was keen to highlight was that his parents were working class.
He said so in the first line of his campaign flyer, said it again in his opening remarks, and then, when asked to reveal an “interesting fact” about himself, said it once more.
I don’t doubt it’s true. But it’s an intriguing theme of this contest: the eagerness of so many candidates to emphasise the toughness of their backgrounds. Even Jeremy Hunt has done it, and he was head boy at Charterhouse. Boris Johnson launches his campaign today. I’m half-expecting him to mention that he was educated “at a school near Slough”.
‘His answers were direct, but they were also reflective, discursive, well structured, thought through’