Contest? What Contest?

'What limited amount is known about Henry Baird McLeish is that he is excellent at getting himself into selected news- papers, and almost as good at keeping out of harm's way when the flak is flying. He was true to form on both counts this week. .' Douglas Fraser, in the Sunday Herald, 28 th October 2000.

Things Can Only Get Better

From the Sunday Herald 28 th October 2000

Political Editor Douglas Fraser looks at the new First Minister's first week in office, and finds a man increasingly overwhelmed by the task ahead

His problem was that it was also a high-profile week, during which he had to shift from being the heir apparent to Donald Dewar, found last weekend to be less apparent than most had thought. Taking on the mantle of national leadership, it was a week which saw him, touchingly, nearly overwhelmed by emotion, but also looking increasingly like a man overwhelmed by the task he now faces.

The week had its ugly side too, as Dewar's team was unceremoniously and gracelessly ousted. McLeish narrowly won the succession battle claiming to be continuing the Dewar legacy, but by the end of it, his own team were on a mission, in their words, to "dump the crap" which the late father of Scotland's Parliament had included in his policy programme.

What limited amount is known about Henry Baird McLeish is that he is excellent at getting himself into selected news- papers, and almost as good at keeping out of harm's way when the flak is flying. He was true to form on both counts this week.

The first hassles hit him on Sunday. An in-depth radio interview followed by television exposed him uncomfortably. His interrogators could see that voting reform for councils is going to be necessary to keep his coalition together, but on such an important matter, he flannelled, failing to find a clear position. The rest of the week saw such prolonged media exposure avoided.

Tuesday was his day to sort out the problems with his backbenchers, of whom more than half seem to have voted against him in the leadership race three days before. The meeting was amicable. Having conceded the dissatisfaction among backbenchers with ministerial high-handedness, he presented proposals which would get MSPs involved in making policy and give them access to civil service advice.

They liked what they heard. But oddly for McLeish, his swift departure left it to others to put their gloss on what he had just offered. And even his most ardent admirers could only conclude the result was a shambles, 48 hours before he had even become First Minister.

First, the printed proposal was mistakenly circulated to the media. Then, the MSPs left to explain did not understand what had been offered. Usually keen to get on television, they scurried away. Third, the package promised privileges to Labour MSPs, but failed to concede, as ministers later had to do, that these would be afforded to opposition members too.

And, fourth, he had failed to square the proposals with the civil servants themselves. Muir Russell, the head of the Executive civil service, brushed aside opposition accusations that the plans threatened to politicise his colleagues. But he also admitted that he had not been told of the plan.

Already complaining of being massively overworked by the work of devolution, civil servants were appalled at the soon-to-be First Minister. The idea that MSPs could have access to them strikes at the heart of the service culture, which is built on single, simple, clear lines of responsibility up to ministers. And with confirmation on Friday that he wants MSPs to have access to civil service advice on their committee work and on the two personal bills that each are allowed to propose during the four years of the parliament term, McLeish has won the antagonism of a bureaucracy he cannot afford to alienate.

The blame for the Tuesday fiasco was placed squarely on the media minder drafted in to hold the show together as Dewar's loyal spin doctor, David Whitton, got rudely sidelined, his demise wrongly reported by those close to the new First Minister as a sacking. The same sort of farewell was meted out to Dewar's head of policy, Brian Fitzpatrick, who was also wanting to leave, but was the subject of deliberately-placed negative reports on his way out the door.

It may be unwise to alienate such men. Whitton was on television on Thursday night, jauntily pointing out that he had notebooks detailing all his meetings with Dewar for the past two and a half years and hinting heavily that they might make interesting reading one day. He did not have to add that the name Henry McLeish crops up repeatedly.

Having tried to placate Labour backbenchers on Tuesday lunchtime, the new premier set about wooing his coalition partners on Tuesday evening. It may have been the week's high point for him, as the group entered the talks sceptically and came out reassured.

The junior partners' shopping list was extensive; a higher profile for leader Jim Wallace as Deputy First Minister, particularly now the Labour leader casts less of a shadow than his predecessor, and for junior minister Nicol Stephen, whom McLeish has eclipsed while in charge of enterprise. They want Ross Finnie's rural affairs brief to have more of the environmental agenda. They also want a third special adviser's post out of the total 12 allowed.

And they told McLeish he should not include in his team one of his favourite journalists, veteran Daily Record columnist Tom Brown, following 17 months of repeated tabloid monstering of the LibDems and Wallace in particular. While McLeish confirmed Brown would be part of his team, he tried to reassure the LibDems that he would only be a speech-writer.

What mattered to the LibDems were the words they wanted from McLeish about their power over the coalition, particularly at a time when his insecurity in his new job will require him to be more partisan for Labour. The junior partners are aware the looming showdown over council voting reform offers an enticing escape route if the new regime goes badly wrong. "I know you've got the gun, and you can pull the trigger," McLeish told them. "I see it as my job to make sure you don't want to use it by making this work as well as possible."

Despite McLeish's reputation for media-savviness, the week was more notable for cock-ups. The difficult interviews followed by the Tuesday farce were only the start. There followed an odd episode in which he offered his favourite four tabloids exclusive interviews with his wife, Julie. But when they discovered each other had the "exclusives", they all backed out in the huff.

And then there was the bizarre matter of Tom Brown's article in the New Statesman, published on Thursday: McLeish's speech-writer and kitchen cabinet member authoritatively reporting in the past tense about a cabinet reshuffle and policy announcements which had not taken place.

It was a stupid, unforced gaffe for McLeish to have been so clearly desperate to curry favour with his favourite hack. But his closeness to Tom Brown says much about the administration tone we can expect, if McLeish chooses friends who trumpet their macho, populist, politically incorrect tabloid credentials.

Much of the week had been internalised, taking up McLeish's time with the problems he had to sort out; the weakness of his position after being run so close by Jack McConnell, the dissaffection of backbenchers, reassuring LibDems, appointing special advisers, and trying to sort out his re-shuffle.

So Thursday was an opportunity to address the nation in the seven minutes allocated to him in his pitch to be elected First Minister. Perhaps because he was nervous or because his victory was assured, the three contenders up against him all produced more impressive speeches.

A day of legislating had been scrapped for this. But the opportunity was fluffed. The man selected by a tiny electorate and whose political core remains little known even within Labour circles, let alone the general public, left people little the wiser about who he is, what he stands for, what motivates him and what will mark out his leadership.

So with the foundations of that regime somewhat shaky, he has done nothing to play down expectations of his cabinet re-shuffle as a defining symbol of the McLeish era. Rumour and speculation have been rife about how he can juggle personnel and portfolios to reward his supporters and placate his opponents, in a Parliament so new that almost everyone wants to be on the way up the career ladder.

The winners in this new-look, crap-dumping cabinet will be pictured this lunchtime on the steps of Bute House, Henry McLeish's official residence - the same steps where Donald Dewar fell with fatal consequences. Can it be only 19 days ago?