Downing Street’s policy statements have come unstuck through a catalogue of communications failures, writes MALCOLM ROBERTSON
In Armando Iannucci’s satirical television series, The Thick of It, the main character is a foul-mouthed Scotsman called Malcolm, who runs the 10 Downing Street communications team with all the grace and elegance of a Glasgow docker who’s stubbed his toe on a cruise ship.
Malcolm (Tucker) patrols Whitehall, hurling his amazing vocabulary like half bricks at a hapless assortment of ministers, special advisers and civil servants he feels are not – how should I say this? – presenting the best of the government to the media and voters.
One of my sons has recently started watching what I often think has become, in the minds of some, a documentary. As so often happens, satire struggles to keep up with real life.
To him, an impressionable 17-year-old, it is utterly ridiculous and fall-off-the-sofa hilarious. He looks justifiably bewildered when I tell him it’s not a million miles away from reality.
For years, Downing Street’s communications operation has, almost by necessity, been entirely reactive. It is focused largely on the powerful lobby journalists, and in dealing with whatever drama is exercising the Westminster bubble on any given day. Much of the time, it has little or nothing to do with public policy or improving the lives of voters, readers and viewers. Often, it’s about the compatibility of cats, the positioning of painted portraits, what wallpaper’s worth, or Taylor Bloody Swift concerts.
There is rarely time or capacity to lift one’s sights and take a broader, longer view. You are a prisoner of the moment and gift a licence to your opponents to lead and then dominate the discourse.
I once led the communications team at Heathrow Airport and in those days crises happened every other week. Some were more troublesome than others, but eventually I trained myself to take a step back – however rowdy the din outside – and imagine how we might move from the turbulence of the storm into calmer waters.
It is a lesson that serves me well to this day, allowing me a different, more measured perspective on the challenges of the here and now, and to sharpen focus instead on the long-term.
One of the less obvious, but most significant, recent changes to the real Downing Street team was the recruitment of James Lyons, a former journalist and communications adviser to TikTok. Lyons will form a strategic communications unit in the office of the Prime Minister and will presumably – hopefully – remove himself from the day-to-day noise and focus resolutely on long-term outcomes.
This was a gap in Labour’s capability that should have been filled long before it formed a government. One of the most surprising hallmarks of the new administration has been the catalogue of communications failures it has suffered. Some are more trivial than others, but each was avoidable if only somebody had been thinking beyond tomorrow, about the unintended consequences of decisions made and about building and enhancing this government’s reputation over the lifetime of the parliament.
The autumn budget was a bold one and represents a medium-term gamble of sorts. Rachel Reeves, the Chancellor, is attempting to persuade voters that in paying more tax and underwriting more borrowing, they are fully engaged in the job of creating a better country. A country in which modern and efficient public services work for everyone who needs them and the spoils of economic growth first materialise and are then distributed fairly.
To win the hearts and minds of voters, Reeves and her cabinet colleagues should talk less about the difficult decisions and who’s to blame. They must have the courage of their convictions and bring this “decade of national renewal” to life in positive, engaging, and relatable terms relevant to the lives and experiences of real people.
Here’s one example. In her budget pre-amble and on BBC Radio 4’s Today programme the following day, Reeves spoke about a summit that attracted more than £60 billion of investment for the UK. It was a vote of confidence in the government, she said. This is all good stuff, but to most ordinary people an investment summit is an alien concept and the application of sixty billion pounds completely unfathomable.
Our political leaders must explain what this actually means for individuals, families and communities, whether that’s in the form of better hospitals, schools, railways and roads. Will it deliver more homes, cheaper, cleaner energy, or a quantifiable amount of extra money in their pockets and in their savings?
The government communication function is highly capable and equipped with valuable audience insight and data, but it is ludicrously fragmented. Each Whitehall department effectively does its own thing, with Downing Street (head office) seemingly unable or unwilling to take a grip and build cross-government campaigns built around the core missions of its political leadership.
Sir Angus Grossart [the investment banker and former chairman of Charlotte Street Partners] was once asked if he would talk to a group of public sector officials about risk management. He declined, politely, but offered to talk to them about risk taking instead. Rachel Reeves should be applauded for taking risks in this budget, something few among this generation of politicians seem capable.
This is the mindset we need in the government right now, but it must extend beyond one budget. It is obvious that large parts of the country and society are broken and people are not so stupid that they believe tinkering here and there will be enough to fix it. Match the rhetoric of “rebuilding Britain” with similarly bold action. Then use every resource available to tell people that compelling story of change with real life examples.
For the Reeves budget gamble to pay off, for people to be persuaded that they are investing in a better standard of living, in a fairer and more prosperous country – and for the fortunes of this administration to improve – a transformation in the government’s storytelling is required.
Recent personnel changes in Downing Street, and signs of boldness and a willing to bear risk from the heart of government, may herald the reform required. You might reasonably suggest that only time will tell. But no government in these days of instant news and commentary has the luxury of time. Change must happen now.
Malcolm Robertson is founding partner of Charlotte Street Partners
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