Cameron's tweeting of the G8's luxury menu shows his blind spot

The Prime Minister's decision to advertise the lavish dinner enjoyed by the leaders is the quickest way of reminding everyone that we're not "all in this together".

As polls regularly attest, one of the biggest obstacles to a Conservative victory at the next election is the perception that the party is both of the rich and for the rich. One recent survey found that 64 per cent believe that "the Conservative Party looks after the interests of the rich, not ordinary people", while Labour enjoys a 17-point lead over the Tories as the party most likely to treat people fairly.

So it is unclear why David Cameron thought it wise to tweet the luxury menu enjoyed by the G8 leaders last night. No one would expect the leaders to dine on gruel and water, but Cameron's decision to advertise their lavish reception, before breezily remarking, "I'll chair a discussion on tax, trade, transparency and Syria", shows a remarkable lack of tact. It reminds everyone, in just eight words, that "we're not all in this together" and provokes exactly the kind of questions he should seek to avoid: "how many food banks have you visited recently?" Neither Tony Blair, with his finely-honed political antennae, nor Gordon Brown, with his hairshirt Presbyterianism, would ever have committed such a faux pas. 

Cameron's tweet is a good example of what Conservative MP Sarah Wollaston recently described to me as "a kind of blindness". Referring to the social narrowness of his inner circle, she said: "it's a kind of blindness to how this looks to other people and why it matters to other people . . . It’s not just the message, it’s the messenger. This is something that they obviously don’t see; they don’t see something that, to me, seems pretty obvious."

Similarly, Cameron, having enjoyed a fine (and taxpayer-funded?) meal, sees nothing wrong with sharing this fact with an austerity-scarred public. If the Tories are ever to win again, their next leader will need to be someone who does. 

David Cameron welcomes Barack Obama during the official arrivals for the start of the G8 Summit at the Lough Erne resort near Enniskillen in Northern Ireland. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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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.