Bully or not, Raab lacked the ministerial magic touch

Not that long ago, a number of thoughtful Tory friends of mine thought that Dominic Raab might make a good leader of the Party. He had Thatcherite views, while other senior figures did not appear to share his intellectual self-confidence. He was tough-minded: nothing wrong with that. 

But there were two related problems: policy and people. Although he might have sounded effective, what did Raab actually achieve during his time in various offices? He also found it hard to work with officials. When he left the Foreign Office, a lot of senior figures were delighted. We are not talking about snowflakes or weaklings: merely able people who found his abrasiveness wearisome, especially as he seemed unable to decide what British foreign policy ought to be. 

For what it is worth, over many years I have formed a conclusion about government ministers. A bad workman blames his tools. Weak ministers blame their civil servants. Strong ones win their respect. Imagine you are a civil servant, working through a weekend to help draft a white paper. You know that your ministerial boss economises on charm. On Monday morning, there will be no effusive thankyous. But you also know that your efforts will be fruitful. The Minister is able. His advocacy will convince the relevant Cabinet committee. The white paper will turn into legislation. You, the official, will be aware that you are helping to make a contribution to history.

Then imagine that you are a civil servant working for a very different boss. This is a charming fellow who always says please and thank you. Everyone likes him. But alas, no-one respects him. The Cabinet Office has made it clear that he is not allowed to choose between tea and coffee without their prior approval. He is unlikely to survive the next reshuffle. So you are giving up your weekend. It is a sunny day. You could be watching the Test match or sitting outside with a glass of beer encouraging your wife’s efforts in the garden. Instead, you are drafting a document which will fall still-born from the press. Monday morning’s expressions of gratitude are not adequate compensation.

The sense of assisting in great events is crucial. Churchill himself was often inconsiderate and rude. Once, during the War, his transport arrangements went awry. Though it was not the driver’s fault, he received a prime ministerial blasting. When the PM had stormed off, Anthony Eden went over to reassure the driver that he was not to blame. The driver reassured him: after all, it was not everyone who could say that they had been blown up by the great man in person. “Don’t you believe it,” replied Eden with real feeling. But everyone knew that they were dealing with a great man, entitled to his foibles.
As for Mrs Thatcher, the handbag was part of her armoury, but only for those who could answer back. After she had reduced an early EEC summit to rubble, Ian Gilmour said: “She will insist on treating heads of government as if they were members of her Cabinet.”  

Around the same time, there was a crisis meeting in No.10. Half a dozen very senior officials were present and it was going to be a long session. “Have all of you let your wives know that you’ll be late for dinner?” the PM enquired. Naturally, they had not. “Right. You make those phone calls while I organise some sandwiches.” It is easy to understand why many of those who worked for her came to love her as well as admire her. Moreover, in all the 15 years while she was Leader of the Opposition and then PM – stressful work – there is no recorded instance of her ever being rude to messengers, secretaries, telephonists – or drivers. More grounds for affection.

To be fair to Dominic Raab, there is no suggestion that it was ever a concern of his. Yet there is a difficulty with the whole affair. The government will be stronger for his departure, plus the arrival of Alex Chalk, an excellent man who is good with people and also with ideas. But did Raab commit a hanging offence? I cannot find one in the report, and there is an unfortunate consequence, in the private sector as well as in the civil service. Not every employee who protests about bullying will have a justifiable complaint. An idle and incompetent fellow might decide to move one jump ahead of the redundancy notice by complaining to an employment tribunal. Some shyster solicitor will happily take on the case, and it is always hard for the employer to win. So one consequence of Raab’s departure will be a reluctant willingness of managers – already plagued by HR departments – to put up with a higher level of inefficiency than they would otherwise tolerate. That is not good for the economy.

Then again, when it comes to shysterism and inefficiency, the working habits of Boris Johnson’s Downing Street defy belief. Anthony Seldon is a scrupulous historian. However incredible, everything that he writes will be true. Had you tried to sell the chronicles of Boris’s premiership as a novel or a film-script, you would have been laughed to scorn. A politer agent or publisher might merely enquire whether you had come across the concept of verisimilitude (something that has always escaped Boris). “My name is Borismandias, rogue of rogues. Look on my works, ye mighty, and laugh.”

There are still some Tories who regret Boris’s departure: a political form of nostalgie de la boue. Anyone who thinks like that ought to read Professor Seldon’s book. It was helpful of Diane Abbott to make her intervention, but Rishi Sunak must long for the moment when his attempts to project his own message are not distracted by background noise from his own benches. 

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