David Cameron during his visit to the headquarters of ventilation manufacturer, Vent-Axia on January 23, 2014 in Crawley. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Maria Miller’s belated resignation shows that Cameron is a slow reader of the public mood

The Prime Minister radiates the Westminster elitism of which Farage offers himself as the scourge.

How can I be off message?” John Major once complained when his advisers said he had deviated from the party line. “I am the message!” The same thought must race through David Cameron’s mind whenever his party erupts in discontent with his performance. The Conservatives’ campaign in the next general election has two elements: reassurance that the economy is on the right track and fear of a derailment if Ed Miliband were put in charge. The message is safety in continuity, framed as a test of which party leader looks more plausible as prime minister. The message is Cameron.

Opposition strategists concede that the Conservatives’ strongest asset is their leader. In opinion polls, he trounces Miliband in measures of personal authority and trust to run the economy, although his party is behind Labour. The opposition also enjoyed a lead in 1992, right up until polling day, when Major crushed Neil Kinnock. This is the precedent – a late surge against an unconvincing opponent – that gives Cameron hope of hanging on in Downing Street.

A large obstacle to fulfilment of that dream is indiscipline in the Conservative ranks, fuelled by panic over Ukip. A reason why many Tories thirsted for sacrificial blood in the battle over Maria Miller’s expenses is the knowledge that Downing Street’s bungled defence of the culture secretary made it too easy for Nigel Farage to decry a corrupt establishment stitch-up.

No 10 invited Miller’s assassins in the press and parliament to desist but failed to erect a bulletproof shield around her. Her resignation exposed Cameron as a slow reader of the mood in his party and the country. That detachment is just one of the reasons why comparisons with 1992 are redundant. Central to the Tory message in that election was the ordinariness of Major’s background. He was the working-class boy from Brixton whose attainment of high office could never be belittled as the ornament of a gilded class. Cameron’s irremediable poshness isn’t just a problem when trying to woo Labour voters. It alienates ex-Tories who are switching to Ukip. The Prime Minister radiates the Westminster elitism of which Farage offers himself as the scourge.

The plan devised by Lynton Crosby, Cameron’s campaign strategist, for closing down the Ukip threat involves reminding people that voting for it risks admitting Miliband to No 10 by accident. Tory MPs who have been testing that line in their constituencies report mixed results at best. “We don’t care. We just want to hurt you,” is how one backbencher summarises the response on the doorstep. Even Conservative optimists say they do not expect to make any progress against Ukip until after May’s European Parliament elections. Many have written off that poll and have resorted to pleading with constituents to “split the ticket” – backing the Tories in local elections on the same day. Get this Ukip thing off your chest in the MEP ballot, is the whisper: just please reconsider Cameron in time for a general election.

One way the Prime Minister hopes to compensate for the limitations of his personal appeal is by assembling a cabinet that looks less exclusive than he does. In parliament, Labour MPs tease the government front bench as a parade of male millionaires. Downing Street dismisses the tactic as petty but the barb stings. A wide-ranging government reshuffle is likely in June and Cameron – counselled by George Osborne – is expected to use the opportunity to “refresh” his team. That usually means elevating MPs who confound the Tory ministerial stereotype of a chap in pinstripes. Young women with regional accents and comprehensive schooling are preferred.

Undermining the presentational advantages of such a reshuffle are the grievances it generates among those passed over. The joke among Tory MPs is that the only way to get promoted in Cameron’s regime is to be an Old Etonian, female or Matt Hancock (the skills minister is a favourite of the Chancellor). It is widely suspected that Cameron’s reluctance to surrender Miller owed much to her precious status as one of the few women in the cabinet.

Over the past year, the Prime Minister has tried to repair relations with his parliamentary party. He has made special overtures to right-wingers, hoping that they might be prevailed upon to issue the warning not to dabble with Ukip for fear of abetting Miliband. That, it is hoped, will sound more persuasive coming from MPs who share many views with Farage.

Such a strategy doesn’t address the despondency of moderate Tories whose problem with Cameron is not ideological. They are annoyed about what one former minister calls “pay and rations” – the feeling among middle-aged male MPs that more lucrative careers were available outside parliament and that their talents are ignored in a regime of positive discrimination that favours candidates with cosmetic appeal. They hate the way troublemakers are rewarded with policy concessions, while obedient supporters are neglected.

These rumblings are not the stuff of rebellion. They contain no eagerness for a change of leadership before the election. Yet, while most Tory MPs accept that Cameron is their best bet for 2015, their conversation still turns to questions about the succession: what will Boris Johnson do? Would Osborne climb free from the wreckage of an election defeat? Is anyone from the 2010 parliamentary intake ready for the top job? Partly that is because the electoral arithmetic makes victory so uncertain but it also describes a deeper malaise. Even many loyal Tories struggle to embrace David Cameron as the message because he keeps sending the message that he doesn’t want to embrace them.

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

This article first appeared in the 09 April 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Anxiety nation

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The economics of outrage: Why you haven't seen the end of Katie Hopkins

Her distasteful tweet may have cost her a job at LBC, but this isn't the last we've seen of Britain's biggest troll. 

Another atrocity, other surge of grief and fear, and there like clockwork was the UK’s biggest troll. Hours after the explosion at the Manchester Arena that killed 22 mostly young and female concert goers, Katie Hopkins weighed in with a very on-brand tweet calling for a “final solution” to the complex issue of terrorism.

She quickly deleted it, replacing the offending phrase with the words “true solution”, but did not tone down the essentially fascist message. Few thought it had been an innocent mistake on the part of someone unaware of the historical connotations of those two words.  And no matter how many urged their fellow web users not to give Hopkins the attention she craved, it still sparked angry tweets, condemnatory news articles and even reports to the police.

Hopkins has lost her presenting job at LBC radio, but she is yet to lose her column at Mail Online, and it’s quite likely she won’t.

Mail Online and its print counterpart The Daily Mail have regularly shown they are prepared to go down the deliberately divisive path Hopkins was signposting. But even if the site's managing editor Martin Clarke was secretly a liberal sandal-wearer, there are also very good economic reasons for Mail Online to stick with her. The extreme and outrageous is great at gaining attention, and attention is what makes money for Mail Online.

It is ironic that Hopkins’s career was initially helped by TV’s attempts to provide balance. Producers could rely on her to provide a counterweight to even the most committed and rational bleeding-heart liberal.

As Patrick Smith, a former media specialist who is currently a senior reporter at BuzzFeed News points out: “It’s very difficult for producers who are legally bound to be balanced, they will sometimes literally have lawyers in the room.”

“That in a way is why some people who are skirting very close or beyond the bounds of taste and decency get on air.”

But while TV may have made Hopkins, it is online where her extreme views perform best.  As digital publishers have learned, the best way to get the shares, clicks and page views that make them money is to provoke an emotional response. And there are few things as good at provoking an emotional response as extreme and outrageous political views.

And in many ways it doesn’t matter whether that response is negative or positive. Those who complain about what Hopkins says are also the ones who draw attention to it – many will read what she writes in order to know exactly why they should hate her.

Of course using outrageous views as a sales tactic is not confined to the web – The Daily Mail prints columns by Sarah Vine for a reason - but the risks of pushing the boundaries of taste and decency are greater in a linear, analogue world. Cancelling a newspaper subscription or changing radio station is a simpler and often longer-lasting act than pledging to never click on a tempting link on Twitter or Facebook. LBC may have had far more to lose from sticking with Hopkins than Mail Online does, and much less to gain. Someone prepared to say what Hopkins says will not be out of work for long. 

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