Rishi Sunak’s honeymoon period is over

Rishi Sunak is in trouble. His personal approval ratings have dropped to a three-month low. The forlorn hope of a besieged incumbent party is that their figurehead remains a more likely prime minister than the pretender. He no longer does and leadership counts. 

I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve never been convinced. Something I share in common with the membership of the Conservative Party and, increasingly, the country. 

I rush to add that this is not a retro sigh for the popular touch of Boris Johnson nor the somewhat “spectrumy” Liz Truss. Though one at least had the knack of victory and the other a notion of what she wanted, however cack-handedly pursued. Both brought with them chaos and not in the form of a creative raw material.

Prior to that we had Theresa May. A woman who, like John Major, has proven adept only in bitter interventions off the back benches while dressed in the borrowed clothes of misunderstood wisdom and hollow “I told you so’s”.

But of Rishi Sunak, what is there to say? Watching him under Iain Martin’s interrogation at the London Defence Conference, one can easily see why he enjoys a reputation for diligent approachability and a safe pair of hands. 

His whistle stop tour of British defence and foreign policy successes may have brought harrumphing contradictions from Menzies Campbell to my side and head-shaking scepticism from veteran correspondent Robert Fox opposite, but he was right to do it. 

In almost all aspects of national life, the narrative of catastrophic near-collapse has become a truism by tired repetition. The media mainline it. The Blob inhales it. And the touchline sniggerers of the commentariat ingest it via patches. All the usual self-loathers gather.

But there is something of the Blair to the PM in the baffled inability to see quite what the trouble is in paradise. He’s even adopted the habit of ending his answers with a glottal-stopped ‘righ’?’ The sure sign of the public schoolboy playing down. “I ain’t no slag, righ’?” never will speak of authenticity from a Wykehamist.

For a spell, he’s traded off a reputation for halting the tailspin. It’s late but the lights are on in Downing Street. All is well. Spreadsheet managerialism slowly turns the cockpit warning lights from red to green. “I’m bringing this baby in”.

But the truth is, of course, that aircraft is still stuck at altitude and the calm is all relative. 

The technocrats of the Bank of England still insist on opening the doors at 20,000 feet and depressurising the economy. Captain Rishi – a Conservative it is rumoured – suggests price-capping basic foods. 

Bond markets hit turbulence and, once again, mortgage holders reach for the sick bag. 

The nation declines to work. Either because it doesn’t want to, has no incentive to do so or is on strike. BT sheds jobs in favour of AI.

Immigration adds a good-sized town to the population yearly. The stubborn refusal to connect this to housing shortages, wages and pressurised public services persists. One of the many areas in which we are constantly invited to add two and two and come up with any other answer than four. 

The mad deconstruction of our history and heritage continues apace and, with it, the glue that binds society. No public debate can be conducted moderately or with due respect for an opposing view. The country is characterised as “far Right” (unlike most of Europe, it has no far right party within a million miles of a parliamentary seat let alone a chance of government). Social media polarises. The middle classification of everything means that opinions come armed with a hyperdeveloped sense of moral rectitude. No longer a difference of view, it is good versus evil.

These are, of course, trends and consequences beyond the immediate scope of a recently arrived prime minister but they form a daily contradiction of the notion that, under Sunak, peace reigns.  

The increasingly despondent mood among his own MPs, however, does lie within his gift. I have spoken to several in recent times who are baffled by his managerial inability to plant a rallying flag and say “this is what we stand for”. Obvious, Conservative measures like reducing taxation or rolling back regulation seem beyond him. 

Regulation is a particular source of frustration. Britain’s largest growth industry and one with admirable productivity. Within that conversation comes an increasing frustration with the Civil Service who, it is suggested, have simply stopped working. Like a puppy half way through a lengthy walk, they have refused to go on and are waiting for the next government to pick them up and take them home.

The mood is often one of weary resignation. To take the inevitable bravely. Some suggest imminent retirement. They look enviously at executive pay in local government and senior echelons of the Civil Service and wonder why they bother with the constant opprobrium of public life.  

Invited as a “bum on seat” to a friend’s constituency dinner recently, a senior Cabinet minister could suggest not much more in the way of compelling reason to vote Conservative than that Labour in government would be much worse. Unsurprisingly, this did not provoke a rousing cheer. More generalised worried nodding.  

Meanwhile, Labour’s hotch-potch of nods and winks to the woke agenda at least, and particularly the young, conjures some vision of the future. A dream to some. A nightmare to others. 

So back to the one-time dishy Rishi. Now with a permanent rictus grin and the consolation of industry over political inspiration.      

Reputations rely on behaviour and communication. What we say, but primarily what we do. Ask Philip Schofield. Sunak and his supporters have told us he’s quietly effective. He now needs to do it loudly. Not being Boris won’t cut it in any more. 

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