Cameron has morphed into the candidate the Tories wanted in 2010. What do they want in 2015?

The PM has found the campaign that the Tories wish they had used to win the last election. That is less than he needs to win the next one.

Three years late, the Conservatives are celebrating victory in the 2010 general election. They still don’t have a majority in parliament but they believe they have won the argument. Labour forfeited its right to govern – so the story goes – by presiding over economic calamity, squandering public money on benefits and opening Britain’s borders to an army of foreigners. The remedy was a Tory government that would cut spending, reform welfare and cap immigration.
 
At the party’s annual conference in Manchester, David Cameron and George Osborne will say their methods are vindicated by incipient economic recovery. Some Tories concede that the truth is more complicated but there is little doubt over who is winning the politics of blame and credit. “The economic argument is not as clear-cut as we’re making out but George has played it well,” says one Conservative adviser.
 
The Prime Minister and the Chancellor will avoid sounding boastful at the conference. They aren’t stupid. They know that the recovery is more legible on paper than it is palpable in pockets. Bills are rising; wages aren’t. In his speech at Labour’s conference, Ed Miliband accused the Tory leader of planning an undeserved “lap of honour”.
 
Cameron won’t oblige with crass claims of missions accomplished. Nor will he respond directly to the charge that the Tories are presiding over a “cost-of-living crisis”. Downing Street knows it has to do something to help struggling households but that task will be addressed later in the year, in a series of policy announcements building up to the Chancellor’s Autumn Statement.
 
At the Tory party conference, the message will be that the Conservatives are on the side of industrious people, while Labour favours freeloaders (domestic and foreign). What excites Tory strategists is that, after three years in office, they feel they have a record to support their argument. They also feel that the party’s MPs are happy with the message and well drilled at delivering it. Effort spent at summer garden parties mending relations between No 10 and backbenchers – the “barbecue offensive” – appears to have paid off. That doesn’t mean the Conservative Party automatically does the Prime Minister’s bidding, as his defeat in the vote on military intervention in Syria proved. But a year ago, such a rebellion would have triggered leadership speculation and lurid tales of panic in the ranks. This time, the disturbance was quickly contained. Cameron wriggled out of his foreign policy humiliation within 24 hours. His spin operation has become sharper and the number of Tory MPs who want nothing more than to hurt him has dwindled to manageable proportions.
 
Labour has watched this transformation with dismay. The Tories can no longer be relied on to deliver a steady flow of bungles. The new ruthlessness and discipline of the Conservative machine is noted with grudging respect by shadow ministers. Tories who once despaired of the way Downing Street was run now speak in reverential tones about Lynton Crosby, Cameron’s campaign director and the man credited with sharpening the party’s sense of strategic purpose.
 
But there is a difference between attacking the opposition harder and governing better. There are also great gaps between what Cameron and Osborne say they are achieving and what has actually been achieved. The deficit and public debt have not been trimmed to anything like the extent that was promised in 2010. Claims to have cracked down on immigration will look shaky when the controls that restricted labour migration from Bulgaria and Romania as a condition of their EU membership are lifted in January. The government’s flagship welfare reform – Universal Credit – has shrivelled from a national revolution in the benefits system to a pilot scheme in Ashton-under-Lyne. With it has shrunk the moral authority of Iain Duncan Smith, who sold Universal Credit as an emblem of “compassionate Conservatism” – easing the path from benefits to work, not just shredding the social safety net.
 
Labour has waited in vain for the public to recoil at the wounds inflicted by the Chancellor’s axe. MPs on both sides note the equanimity with which their constituents have tolerated the hardships of recent years. There is a stoical acceptance of financial insecurity as a force of nature rather than a consequence of government policy. As one Tory MP in a bellwether constituency tells me: “People don’t love us but I don’t get the sense that they are desperate to get rid of us.”
 
Others are less relaxed. “I’d like to show George around parts of my constituency to let him see what poverty really looks like,” says one Conservative defending a marginal seat. The Tories still struggle to shed their image as a favour factory for the rich and powerful. Cameron has steadied his party’s nerves but he hasn’t established what one influential backbencher describes as “a morality behind the narrative”.
 
In the conference hall, Cameron will be unchallenged. He will fight the next election as Tory leader. However, in the hotel bars, the gossip will revert to the discreet beauty contest among potential contenders for the succession – Michael Gove, Theresa May, Philip Hammond, Boris Johnson, George Osborne – because Tories also know that outright victory in the next election is still a remote prospect.
 
The criticism that Tories habitually level against Cameron is that he lacks fixed beliefs and that he changes his political clothes to suit the weather. With the help of Lynton Crosby’s natty tailoring, Cameron has at last found a costume to match his party’s tastes. He has persuaded the Conservatives that he really is their leader but he hasn’t imprinted his own politics on them. He is secure and confident because he has found the campaign that the Tories wish they had used to win the last election. That is less than he needs to win the next one.
David Cameron prepapres to greet his New Zealand counterpart John Key ahead of a meeting in Downing Street on September 18, 2013. Photograph: Getty Images.

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

This article first appeared in the 30 September 2013 issue of the New Statesman, The Tory Game of Thrones

Getty
Show Hide image

Rarely has it mattered so little if Manchester United won; rarely has it been so special they did

Team's Europa League victory offers chance for sorely needed celebration of a city's spirit.

Carlo Ancelotti, the Bayern Munich manager, memorably once said that football is “the most important of the least important things”, but he was only partly right. While it is absolutely the case that a bunch of people chasing around a field is insignificant, a bunch of people chasing around a field is not really what football is about.

At a football match can you set aside the strictures that govern real life and freely scream, shout and cuddle strangers. Football tracks life with such unfailing omnipresence, garnishing the mundane with regular doses of drama and suspense; football is amazing, and even when it isn’t there’s always the possibility that it’s about to be.

Football bestows primal paroxysms of intense, transcendent ecstasy, shared both with people who mean everything and people who mean nothing. Football carves out time for people it's important to see and delivers people it becomes important to see. Football is a structure with folklore, mythology, language and symbols; being part of football is being part of something big, special, and eternal. Football is the best thing in the world when things go well, and still the best thing in the world when they don’t. There is nothing remotely like it. Nothing.

Football is about community and identity, friends and family; football is about expression and abandon, laughter and song; football is about love and pride. Football is about all the beauty in the world.

And the world is a beautiful place, even though it doesn’t always seem that way – now especially. But in the horror of terror we’ve seen amazing kindness, uplifting unity and awesome dignity which is the absolute point of everything.

In Stockholm last night, 50,000 or so people gathered for a football match, trying to find a way of celebrating all of these things. Around town before the game the atmosphere was not as boisterous as usual, but in the ground the old conviction gradually returned. The PA played Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds, an Ajax staple with lyrics not entirely appropriate: there is plenty about which to worry, and for some every little thing is never going to be alright.

But somehow the sentiment felt right and the Mancunian contingent joined in with gusto, following it up with “We’ll never die,” – a song of defiance born from the ashes of the Munich air disaster and generally aired at the end of games, often when defeat is imminent. Last night it was needed from the outset, though this time its final line – “we’ll keep the red flag flying high, coz Man United will never die" – was not about a football team but a city, a spirit, and a way of life. 

Over the course of the night, every burst of song and even the minute's silence chorused with that theme: “Manchester, Manchester, Manchester”; “Manchester la la la”; “Oh Manchester is wonderful”. Sparse and simple words, layered and complex meanings.

The match itself was a curious affair. Rarely has it mattered so little whether or not United won; rarely has it been so special that they did. Manchester United do not represent or appeal to everyone in Manchester but they epitomise a similar brilliance to Manchester, brilliance which they take to the world. Brilliance like youthfulness, toughness, swagger and zest; brilliance which has been to the fore these last three days, despite it all.

Last night they drew upon their most prosaic aspects, outfighting and outrunning a willing but callow opponent to win the only trophy to have eluded them. They did not make things better, but they did bring happiness and positivity at a time when happiness and positivity needed to be brought; football is not “the most important of the least important things,” it is the least important of the most important things.

0800 7318496