If ever a prime minister needed a break from a centrally controlled publicity machine, Tony Blair does. Alas, it has not worked out that way. For the past two weeks he will have been gritting his teeth through daily briefings from his press adviser, Alastair Campbell, on how to deal with a press preoccupied with the closing of Tuscan beaches and the welfare of Pisan horses: ask for the beach to be open to the public; frown if a horse gets hurt in the Palio race; offer the local hospital a donation; keep a tight hold on Cherie.
We are accustomed to centralised policy-making and the careful choreographing of its presentation. "Joined-up" government, it is called, and it covers everything from the higher tax rate to what grown men do on holidays, with no slips or indiscretions in between. But two years into government, optimists might have hoped that Blair and his cabinet could begin to relax a little, loosen the marionette strings, encourage debate and, assured of their rectitude (and majority), even smile benignly on dissent.
Instead we learn that government insiders are calling for greater controls and a stronger centre. Their argument, outlined by Anne Perkins on page 6, is that government has become even harder to steer and the cabinet is forever struggling against competing departmental warlords within a powerful Whitehall machine. Hence the much-criticised Downing Street "parallel civil service", with its ever-expanding number of advisers, and the corresponding discontent of senior ministers. Even a deputy prime minister with a firm power base like John Prescott can suddenly find himself adrift from the programme. True, he has shown himself well able to fight fire with fire and use the media to do it, but the imperative for ministers and party to think with one head and, even more important, speak with one voice, is firmer than ever.
Thus the number of issues on which Labour MPs who care for their future careers cannot express dissent is growing. Don't mention the war, at least not the one in Kosovo, or tax or proportional representation or freedom of information or asylum seekers or the decriminalisation of drugs. The government has stated its position on these things, and that is an end to the matter.
Take Charles Kennedy's debut announcement as the third party leader, calling for a royal commission to consider decriminalisation of cannabis. Labour's response? Keith Hellawell, UK anti-drugs co-ordinator, told Radio 4 rather irritably that the debate was over. "Only a very small minority keep raising the issue . . . People who continue to raise these issues make our job more difficult." Leaving aside whether or not such a debate has taken place (it bypassed the Commons), is this a government that will never permit itself second thoughts?
Don't mention tax, either. We know there are government members who believe that chronic underfunding in areas such as health and education (including the need to deal with anomalies and injustices in the pay and conditions of junior doctors and lecturers) could be partly relieved by higher taxes. Now the leader of the opposition has thrown down the gauntlet by suggesting abolition of the higher rate of tax, with the sole aim, one suspects, of wrong-footing a government paranoid about being labelled tax-happy. When, since Clare Short's slapping-down, did we last hear a call for higher taxes?
Labour's natural supporters have been horrified by the progress of the punitive Immigration and Asylum Bill, apparently designed to appease Daily Mail readers, which attempts to solve a bureaucratic crisis with heavy-handed treatment of asylum seekers. Labour was told that "tough" talk on bogus asylum seekers would foment racism and make life hard for genuine refugees. Violent clashes between asylum seekers and Dover residents have proved critics right and are a horrible augury of what may happen when the bill comes into force. We know there are MPs and ministers who believe Jack Straw is wrong. Why can they not be heard?
Blair's team shows admirable determination to deliver on what it sees as key promises. Bit by bit, it is getting there and occasionally confounding its critics. But it has to relax enough to listen, as well as just present perfectly honed messages.
Next week the Blairs will go to a village in south-west France where, we are told, they are loved by the locals. That would be a good place to start to relax. For a start, there is no bar - which should keep the journalists away. And, so close to the Pyrenees, it might even be a mobile phone black hole.
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