Whelan on Miliband, Mandelson and election defeat

“All they were interested in was getting Miliband in,” says former spin doctor. “I was sickened.”

Today's Daily Mail has what it claims is the first major newspaper interview with Charlie Whelan since Labour came to power in 1997. Whether that's hyping things a little or not, the joint interviewers, Andrew Pierce and Amanda Platell, appear to have got what they were after from the outspoken Whelan.

Here are some of the "highlights" for those of you yet to get down to the newsagent's . . .

On Peter Mandelson and the 2010 election campaign

Peter claims he is a great strategist and campaigner. In truth, the great campaigner was Gordon Brown, who masterminded the 1997, 2001 and 2005 victories. Peter ran two campaigns: 1987 and 2010.

I'd been to America to the Democrat Convention and had seen how Obama had revolutionised the way you use modern media. Peter was stuck in the past.

He was meant to be the conductor of the orchestra, but he wanted to be up front blowing his own trumpet.

On David Miliband and the plots against Gordon Brown

At the time, there were genuine leadership challenges which made us less and less electable. The first rule of politics is that the public do not like divided parties.

[Although he won't identify him, it is obvious Whelan thinks David Miliband was central to the plot. When we suggest the former foreign secretary's name, Whelan shrugs and says:]

You don't need to be a genius to work that out.

On the "defeatist" Blairites

HQ was full of Blairites. Their heart wasn't in it. They didn't think they could win it, and they didn't have any interest in Gordon. They were waiting to lose. All they were interested in was getting Miliband in. I was sickened.

So far, Whelan, an active tweeter, has yet to comment on the Mail's splash.

 

Jon Bernstein, former deputy editor of New Statesman, is a digital strategist and editor. He tweets @Jon_Bernstein. 

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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.

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