Gove in full rant mode ... it’s a glorious mix of Jeeves and Che Guevara
MICHAEL GOVE was a glittering star of the Government. It was possible to disagree with him, but impossible to dislike him. He was amusing, intellectually impressive and never, ever, dull. Pictures of Lenin, Margaret Thatcher and Malcolm X decorated the wall of his office in the Education Department, where we worked. He once suggested that the two us went to the department’s Christmas party as Morecambe and Wise.
In 2013, when we faced Treasury cuts, he cited French philosopher Voltaire: ‘Is the Cabinet not aware of the story about Voltaire? On his deathbed, the old man called for a priest to absolve him of his sins. “Do you repudiate the devil and all his disciples?” the priest asked. “My dear boy,” replied Voltaire, “this is no time to be making new enemies.”
‘Prime Minister, this is no time to be breaking pledges.’
Michael wasn’t good with numbers, but he wasn’t afraid to be challenged.
My policy adviser, Tim Leunig, emailed Michael, rubbishing his new, highly traditional, history curriculum for schools. Tim concluded: ‘You will, personally, be mocked if you go ahead with this, and rightly so.’
The email was sent over Christmas. Michael was on holiday in America. Any normal Secretary of State would have ignored it as impertinent or suggested a chat in the New Year.
Instead, within 36 hours Michael sent back a courteous, amusing and thoughtful response:
‘Dear Tim, I am out of the UK right now – trying to broaden my horizons but in fact only expanding my waistline.
‘Thank you for being so detailed and candid. The two things I value most in advice – and advisers – are evidence and honesty. Drawing up the curriculum has been a difficult political exercise. There may be different Conservative and Liberal perspectives on physics, perhaps liberals as instinctive believers in greater pluralism and the virtues of coalition are more inclined to believe two different objects can occupy the same space at the same time.’
And so it continued over four pages, covering Nazi Germany; whether the 1688 revolution was glorious; the Sonderweg; gay rights; Viscount Sidmouth; the utility of curriculum aims; the rivalry of Bolingbroke and Harvey; the impact of Defoe, Swift and Pope; the Greeks; the Romans; the Aztecs; the Victorians; and the Tudors.
But Michael could also be a political street fighter.
One Tory said privately: ‘He’s a cross between Jeeves and Che Guevara.’
At Cabinet in 2013, complaining about cross-departmental projects, a bugbear of his, he cited the actress Greta Garbo, one of whose famous ‘lines’ was ‘I just want to be left alone’, as a model of how focused government should work. He didn’t leave it at that, either.
‘People often criticise “silos” and “Balkanisation”,’ he told baffled Cabinet colleagues, ‘but why? Silos protect our nuclear deterrent. We need silos. Balkanisation meant respecting the integrity of small nation states. It has had a bad press for far too long.’
When a new fuel poverty target was put forward, Michael mischievously suggested introducing a ‘book poverty target’ too. ‘We could send in inspectors to people’s homes to count the number of qualifying family books and measure the “book poverty rate”. We could identify households under a particular book number threshold, pass an Act of Parliament to guarantee a minimum number of books per household, and bus extra books around the country to reduce the book poverty rate,’ he suggested, with a semi-straight face. Ken Clarke roared with laughter.
When Michael and I met senior officials for a budget meeting, he forewarned me, oddly: ‘I will literally say nothing.’ He was true to his word, but couldn’t help letting his views be known. When I raised school transport, he nudged me, and silently put his hands together into a ‘praying’ posture. I had no idea what he meant, and he signalled his lips were ‘zipped’.
An official piped up: ‘I think the Secretary of State is saying to be mindful of the impact on church schools.’ When I suggested trimming the new ‘sports premium’, Michael nudged me again, shook his head, and pointed up into the sky. ‘Is it something to do with God, again?’ I asked. No. Eventually we guessed: the PM wouldn’t tolerate cuts to his pet scheme for more sports advisers. Michael smiled and put his thumbs up.
Regular clashes between Gove and Nick Clegg were compounded by Michael’s political adviser, Dominic Cummings, [now at the EU ‘Leave’ campaign with him]. ‘Dom’ had restless desire to shake things up. He was also rude and had a low opinion of Clegg and Cameron. After a series of hostile press briefings Nick blamed on Gove’s team, Clegg told Michael: ‘Listen, we can be at each other’s throats 24 hours a day, if you like. I don’t mind. Our voters hate you. We are both Marmite politicians.’
But as well as provocative, Michael was very thoughtful.
When I said I hadn’t got a summer holiday book, he sang the praises of a biography of Lyndon Johnson by Robert Caro. When I arrived at my office the next day, a brand-new copy was on my desk, with a card from Michael.
I still chuckle at Michael’s amusing rant at a Cabinet away day at Chequers in July 2013, which left colleagues angry, amused and some – like the PM – irritated.
‘I have some questions, Prime Minister, for the Cabinet,’ announced Michael.
‘Don’t we need to think more about what we are all doing? Why are we bothering with the Troubled Families Unit? What does it cost and will it ever achieve anything? How is the Home Secretary’s “Gang Task Force” going? How many gangs have closed? What’s the use of cross-departmental work?
‘Why do Ministers bother going on the Today programme? Isn’t it a complete waste of time? Why do they ask stupid questions about where the money comes from for Government initiatives? Why don’t we just say it all comes from the Treasury? What do party conferences ever achieve? Why don’t we just stop them?’ On and on he went, treading on multiple toes.
Theresa May starred icily down at her papers. She had set up the Gang Task Force and was often trying to engage Michael, usually unsuccessfully, in cross-departmental work.
The Prime Minister looked irritated and decided not to rise to Michael’s bait.
‘Well, Michael, some interesting and wide-ranging points there,’ he said. ‘But I think it’s time for lunch.’
Extracted from Coalition: The Inside Story Of The Conservative-Liberal Democrat Coalition Government, by David Laws, published by Biteback Publishing at £25. Offer price £20 (20 per cent discount) until April 3. Call 0844 571 0640 or visit www.mailbookshop.co.uk. P&P free.
He was amusing, impossible to dislike and never, ever dull ‘Send in inspectors to count books in every household’