A curious case of residual loyalty

By Mark Ferguson / @markfergusonuk

Silly season is undoubtedly over (if, in fact, it ever started this year), as Alistair Darling becomes the latest New Labour doyen to release an autobiography – this time on the dog days of a tired Labour government. Based on the extracts released today by the Sunday Times(£), it’s an interesting read. Darling (a man who has often appeared the dictionary definition of gray), is far more flamboyant in opposition than he appeared in government. And yet some of the tastier phrases previously attributed to the former chancellor in leaks to Labour Uncut this week – including a description of Brown as “brutal and volcanic” and the suggestion that Ed Balls was running a shadow treasury operation have been angrily denied by Darling(£).

Yet Darling’s book will still make uncomfortable reading for Brown. Brutal and volcanic doesn’t seem like a far fetched précis of what Darling describes – even if the unpleasantness of the Brown regime so often seemed to be outsourced to his trusted advisers, rather than raining down from the man himself. Darling himself uses an incredibly evocative phrase:

“I was reminded of the words Henry II uttered about Thomas à Becket: “Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?” He didn’t order his knights to go and kill Becket, but they believed they had his blessing to do so.”

Does Darling feel that Brown’s briefers were responsible for his political death? Perhaps. Darling has responded in kind by hammering another nail into the coffin of Brown’s political career, and yet it’s a well worn path now. It’s hard to think of one of his contemporaries who hasn’t (either implicitly or explicitly) played “pin the blame on the Gordon”, as it has become known in some Westminster circles. The story itself seems like a familiar one (albeit from a different perspective) to anyone who has waded through the gory torture porn of the Blair-Brown era retrospectives.

Darling has also implied, in an interview with Andrew Marr, as well as in today’s Sunday Times, that he has held back the details of some of his more personal conversations with Brown thanks to a “residual loyalty” to his old friend.

Today’s revelations reminded me of Brown’s own book launch back in November, held in a glass and steel tower far above me Liverpool Street. Many of the other guests were recognisable personalities from the media, but there was only one recognisable politician – Nick Brown, his namesake’s longtime enforcer, was stood behind me at the back of the room. That was until an hour in, as much of the crowd had dissolved into the cold London night, and the wine was running low, when a familiar face (specifically hair and eyebrows) entered the room. He stood for quite some time talking (and even smiling) with his former colleague. That night at Brown’s book launch there was no Balls, Miliband or Alexander anywhere to be seen. His trusted lieutenants were nowhere to be seen. But Darling was there.

Hardly the reactions of two men at irreconcilable loggerheads with each other.

Perhaps, even now, there’s more than just “residual loyalty” after all.