Disagreements and debates abound at the Lib Dem conference

The leadership no longer have an iron grip over proceedings at conference – and it’s better for it.

Thinking back over the last five years of party conferences, it is striking that this has been the least managed of them all. Party managers have not done the usual work behind the scenes to ensure that the leadership view prevails.

The leadership learned the bitter lesson of defeat when Norman Lamb lost a vote at conference on privatisation of the Royal Mail in September 2005. From that moment on, there was a determined effort to manage the controversial moments.

Leaflets to delegates, ensuring the right speakers are lined up, gentle persuasion in the bars in the evenings, plenty of phone calls – these things had become part of the process of managing conference in the preceding weeks. But in Liverpool, very little activity of this sort has taken place.

Why is that? One reason is that, as a result of the coalition, it has become more acceptable to disagree. There are reconciliation processes, designed by Labour and the Lib Dems in Scotland, where conflicts in policy are brought to a committee and resolved. Of course there are limits, but open disagreement no longer feels like the threat it used to.

Another reason is that, like a pressure cooker, this conference had to let off some steam. On future strategy, on free schools and on Trident, there was a clear need for the party to assert itself. Vince Cable in his speech today said that he expects conference to keep him and his colleagues "honest".

A final reason is that a democratic process has the potential to strengthen, not weaken the Lib Dems who are in government. Because decision-making is open and democratic, the ministers in government know that behind them are some powerful policy agreements and the full agreement (or sometimes disagreement) of a political party.

The question I have is: post-CSR, what will happen next year? Will less still be more? Or will the party managers be back in action?

Olly Grender is a political consultant. She was director of communications for the Liberal Democrats between 1990 and 1995.

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Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.