When the new UK prime minister Boris Johnson announced his reshuffle, one name above all the others attracted much coverage. It was not a new member of the cabinet that caught the attention of commentators, but the appointment of Dominic Cummings to be a senior adviser in 10 Downing Street.
It normally takes years for the backroom staff to become the story, but Mr Cummings is no ordinary adviser. As the man who led the Leave campaign to victory in the 2016 Brexit referendum, he is one of the small elite of staffers who are significant political players in their own right — think of Rahm Emanuel, Barack Obama’s chief of staff, Alastair Campbell, Tony Blair’s press secretary, or Steve Bannon, Donald Trump’s former chief strategist.
Like them, Mr Cummings is seen by friend and foes alike as someone who can shape the political landscape. His appointment is important because he is, to adopt Michael Corleone’s phrase in The Godfather, a “wartime consigliere”.
We are a long way from the world in which Margaret Thatcher could say of her economic adviser Alan Walters that “advisers advise and ministers decide”. Everyone who follows politics closely knows that the staffer, or as they are called in the UK system the special adviser, plays a central — and at times a determining — role.
What fascinates most about them initially is the sense that they are Svengali figures — capable of bending powerful politicians to their will. The truth is somewhat simpler. Very many people in politics have opinions, hardly any have plans. Politicians are surrounded by people who are long on views but short on actionable advice. This is the strength of Mr Cummings — wherever he is, he is the man with a plan.
He has another strength which is perhaps even greater — though he cares deeply about political campaigning, and is exceptionally good at it, he is not addicted to the game. I remember having lunch with him before he took the role leading the Leave campaign. He had a clear and compelling strategy for winning, but he said that he required complete control of the campaign or he would carry on with the family and professional life he had built since leaving government.
Knowing what he wants to do and doing it only on his own terms is what makes Mr Cummings so mesmerising for many, and terrifying for some. He won’t compromise, he will achieve his ambitions by any means necessary.
The story of how he was found in contempt of parliament is telling. He refused to give evidence to the House of Commons digital, culture, media and sport committee when it was investigating the proliferation of false news stories during the EU referendum campaign. Or rather, he set terms. As he put it on his blog: “My offer to give evidence to MPs remains open. As does my reasonable demand that ALL OF US ARE UNDER OATH TO TELL THE TRUTH. I hope they take it up but am not hopeful.” That is some counterpunch, and typical of the man — an offer they couldn’t accept.
Not a blind respecter of authority, Mr Cummings was called a “career psychopath” by former prime minister David Cameron, who initially barred him from becoming an adviser to Michael Gove in the education department. Mr Cummings has written at length about government and being an adviser. Three things come through strongly.
First, he loved the life and he dedicated himself to it. His accounts of crises and the general sense of government being constant chaos with no sense of urgency will ring bells to many who worked as advisers.
Second, he has a passionate belief in the need for civil service reform. This is partly due to a powerful — and correct — sense that if politicians pay the price for what is achieved, and not achieved, in their departments, they should pick personnel. Mainly, though, he believes strongly that the arts and humanities educational backgrounds of senior government figures — both political and bureaucratic — is wrong for a world transformed in recent decades by science and technology, expanding the frontiers of both knowledge and effective management.
Third, he insists that something must be done about this. As he puts it: “You cannot reform the way the civil service works. Only a PM can do that.” Now he has his chance.
Mr Cummings used his credit card to make a deposit on a shop rental when he started his 2004 campaign against proposals for a regional assembly in the north-east of England. He managed to turn strong initial support for the idea into a nearly four-to-one defeat.
Mr Cummings is a restless risk-taker. He is frustrated by government not because he is an ideological opponent of the state, but because he is a believer in how much better things could be done. Fasten your seat belts, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.
The writer is a political strategist
