Monthly Archives: September 2024

Book review

The Blair Years, by Alastair Campbell, 2007

I don’t think there is any question that Alastair Campbell’s obituary when it comes to be written will focus on the events of the last few weeks of this diary. For any readers for whom this is history rather than current affairs, a short summary: Alastair Campbell was Tony Blair’s press spokesman from shortly after Blair became leader of the Labour Party through the first two New Labour governments. He developed a fearsome reputation as a defender of the Government. The verb ‘to spin’ might have existed before Campbell and New Labour, but it came into common currency during those years. To give you some idea of Campbell’s reputation, all you need to know is that the character Malcolm Tucker from The Thick of It was based upon him.

After 9/11 America, led by George W Bush, was determined to depose Saddam Hussein. The premise for this attack was that Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction (WMDs), or the capability to develop such weapons. Tony Blair was unshakeable in his support for Bush and the issue became a deep dividing line within British politics. To support the case for war a file of intelligence briefings (a dossier) was produced, purporting to demonstrate that Hussein had WMDs. A BBC report claimed that Campbell had interfered with the drafting of the report and ‘sexed’ it up, over-stating the strength of the evidence. Dr David Kelly, a government scientist who had allegedly leaked information on the dossier to the BBC ended up taking his own life. A judicial inquiry into these events, the Hutton inquiry exonerated Campbell but the accusation has stuck, primarily because it seems the sort of thing that Campbell would have done.

Campbell has spent more than twenty years trying to rebuild his reputation, but I suspect he will always be haunted by this accusation. The Blair Years is the first of what is by now a series of eight volumes of his extremely detailed diaries – over 750 pages covering 1994-2003, around a sixth of the total words written contemporaneously. The obvious question is to what extent these diaries have been edited or selected to present a positive view of Campbell and his role in New Labour, and specifically to exonerate him from the WMD accusations? It would be astonishing if not almost impossible to edit down that volume of writing without any element of spin. Choices must have been made, inevitably with the intention of presenting Campbell and Blair in the most positive light. Even if Campbell wasn’t such a notorious exponent of the art of spin, some recasting of events must have happened. I am possibly being naïve but I choose to think that this is a reasonably honest version of events. Campbell saw himself as a leading figure in the Blair administrations, more a chief of staff than a press officer. He was at the heart of the New Labour project, even if on some issues he found his personal views to the left of Blair. An early instance of this is when he tries and fails to persuade Blair not to send his children to a grant-maintained school, which went on to be a bit of a PR disaster for him.

Most of the time there is little effort made to provide context to the events being described – footnotes are few and far between – so the reader either needs to be familiar with the events or spend a fair amount of time flicking back and forth to Wikipedia. The overall effect is of a real-time account of several significant moments in recent British history, such as the death of Princess Diana, the foot and mouth crisis, and the British reaction to 9/11 leading through to the Gulf War. Throughout, Campbell’s portrait of Blair is consistent: he was a reforming Prime Minister often out of step with his party but driven by faith in the rightness of his own views, determined to reform institutions (such as the House of Lords) and with a broad interest in social justice. Campbell himself is by contrast more a traditional party man. The cast of supporting characters is large. John Prescott comes across as a surprisingly likeable ally, while Campbell makes little attempt to disguise his contempt for others such as Clare Short. The effect of some parts of the diaries is to confirm public perception of Labour figures – Peter Mandelson is undoubtedly Machiavellian, Gordon Brown is prone to outbursts of anger, and so on – there aren’t many revelations about politicians secret lives. Perhaps this is because so many other memoirs have been published. What was at the time an insight into what really happened – such as the story of Robin Cook breaking up with his wife on the way to the airport because a tabloid was about to expose his affair (a story sometimes presented as Campbell instructing Cook to divorce his wife) are now well known and all these diaries do is confirm them.

Campbell isn’t over-burdened by humility. Early on he becomes excruciatingly convinced Princess Diana is attracted to him. The Secretary General of NATO is quoted as saying in the context of the conflict in Kosovo “If you can, send me your man Campbell, that would be best“. He becomes good friends with Bill Clinton and George W Bush. I suppose everyone is the hero of their own stories.

While some of the narrative feels like ancient history, other sections bear strikingly similarities to the political situation today – a reforming Labour Government with a large majority after a long period of Conservative rule; a hostile media; cynical anti-politics agenda being pursued by the right-wing; Europe as always a divisive issue. Even electoral reform and changes to the House of Lords are back on the agenda. So these diaries should probably be studied by the new Labour Government. If they were to do so what lessons would they derive?

First, the Conservatives must not be under-estimated. They will be back, and the time to cement Labour’s position as the party of Government is now, not in five years time. The next Conservative Prime Minister may not yet be an MP (Cameron was not an MP when Blair was elected; Starmer was not an MP when Cameron was elected) but they aren’t one of Europe’s oldest political parties for nothing.

Second the media will be unrelentingly hostile and the Government needs to decide what it is going to do about that. What we mean by the media has obviously changed since 1997 with the advent of Facebook etc, but the right-wing tabloids are still stubbornly there and will not miss a chance to undermine the Government.

Thirdly major crises seem almost unavoidable. Whether it is the death of Princess Di, foot and mouth disease, the oil delivery drivers strike (first term) or 9/11 and the Gulf War (second term) and the global economic crisis (third term) there are going to be testing times ahead.

Is the portrait of Campbell that emerges from these diaries accurate? For example is his reputation for quite aggressive ferocity justified? I wanted to quote at length a description Campbell gives of a shouting match between himself and Gordon Brown, Chancellor of the Exchequer (page 528) during the 2001 general election campaign. Brown had long been concerned about the negative impact of briefings by Peter Mandelson, who had been sacked twice from Cabinet positions:

“I went over to see GB in his office….and he was banging away at his computer. He had a pile of papers to the right and on the top had written 75 pence and below it, in large black letters, ‘who will silence Mandelson?’ ….

I tried to make a joke of it, but he was having none of it, went on a great tirade, said we were letting him destroy the campaign, undermine him, be ill-disciplined, on and on he went and eventually I lost it, said PM was nothing to do with me and I did not like the implications that I could be held responsible one way or the other for what he was or was not up to. “Well it has to stop” he said. “Telling me it has to stop suggests that in some way I might be responsible, and I fucking resent that….(continues at some length) I was suddenly conscious that I was jabbing my finger at him, and thought it better to leave.”

This is extraordinarily unprofessional conduct, but it seems there were no consequences for Campbell for swearing and shouting at the second most senior member of the Government. The word suddenly is revealing here – if the description can be taken at face value, he seems genuinely not to have realised he was shouting and being aggressive towards Brown for most of the exchange. If he treated the Chancellor of the Exchequer like this, what was he like with junior members of staff and journalists? Of course we don’t need to ask because there are multiple accounts of his behaviour. So yes, he was aggressive and either didn’t know or care that people were often genuinely scared of him.

Just one other thing I noticed: the back cover of the paperback edition includes the following quote from Matthew Parris, the Times columnist and former Conservative MP

“A brilliant, absorbing account….These diaries….will be gasped at, and relied upon, for decades to come. Buy them; they will suck you in”.

I was surprised to read this endorsement when Mr Parris himself appears only once in these diaries (page 308) as “The little shit Parris“.

One wonders what qualifications were hidden by the ellipses?

The Blair Years, by Alastair Campbell, 2007

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Book review

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot, 2010

The premise of this book is that the extraordinary story of Henrietta Lacks – and more specifically, her cells which (for reasons I am still not clear about) continued to multiply after they were removed from her body, shortly before her death from cancer in 1951 – needs to be told. In other words, that this is the most

comprehensive account of Henrietta’s life, death, and subsequent ‘life’. But you don’t have to read very far into “The Immortal Life” to establish clearly that is an overstatement – in fact one of the complaints of Henrietta’s surviving family is that they are constantly being badgered for interviews by journalists and scientists. Skloot’s account may well be the most comprehensive but it is not a revelation of a lost story. Since 1996 the main School of Medicine in Atlanta has held an annual Women’s Health Conference in recognition of Henrietta and “the valuable contribution made by African Americans to medical research and clinical practice”. In 1996 the mayor of Atlanta declared a ‘Henrietta Lacks Day’. In 1997 U.S. Congressman Robert Ehrlich presented a congressional resolution recognizing Lacks and her contributions to medical science and research. Also in 1996 the BBC made a documentary about Henrietta’s story, ‘The Way of all Flesh’. Skloot writes that the documentary team “covered the Lacks family story in more detail than anyone ever had, filling dozens of hours of interviews”. In other words, hers is a very well known and comprehensively researched story and the suggestion that this account is anything other than a detailed retelling – albeit with some new elements relating to Henrietta’s family – is misleading. Which is a pity because this is a perfectly worthwhile retelling, as far as it goes, just not anything revolutionarily new. To be fair I have to accept that I can’t pin down a quote where this claim is made explicitly, but it is strongly implied throughout the text, as well as the presentation and marketing of the book.

Henrietta’s story is definitely worth retelling. She came from a literally dirt-poor African American family only two generations away from slavery. Brought up by her grandmother and married at 14 to a cousin, she grew up in an America where African Americans had few civil rights. She was only 31 years when she died in 1951 in a “coloured ward” in hospital in Baltimore. She left behind a husband and five children – and a slice of her tissue, cut from the cancer that went on to kill her. These cells duplicated and kept on duplicating despite being outside a host living organism. Scientists had known this was technically possible, and I am not sure if Henrietta’s cells were the first ever kept alive in this way, but they were undoubtedly the most prolific. The cells went on to be used across the world in numerous different laboratories and environments, including being sent into space. Their origins were largely forgotten. An industry developed around the production of these cells and it seems as if the question of compensating Henrietta’s family and heirs for her extraordinary, if entirely accidental contribution to medical research simply didn’t occur to anyone.

Henrietta’s family are as much a part of this story as her own short life. Her deaf daughter, Elsie, was committed to an institution despite there being any evidence of mental illness. The hospital she was committed to sounds an incredibly grim place. Henrietta’s other children grew up without much in the way of parenting and suffered horrible abuse from family members. Skloot invites us to pity this resilient family, suggesting that they struggled to understand the difference between their mother’s death and the survival of her cells – “Nobody round here ever understood how she dead and that thing still living. That’s where the mystery’s at” – which feels… improbable. Henrietta’s youngest son Joe served time for homicide and remains a menacing presence in this narrative, but the central role is taken by Deborah, Henrietta’s daughter, whose obsession with her mother’s legacy comes to dominate the final chapters of the book. Whether that would have been the case without Skloot’s intervention is unclear, but it’s no surprise that in the television film adaptation of this book it was this role that was taken by Oprah Winfrey rather than Henrietta herself. Skloot even goes so far as to suggest that Deborah believed her mother had been cloned and that she was suffering the pains of all the diseases that her cells had helped to cure, and links these delusions to the more understandable suspicions of African Americans of the medical establishment. Central to this belief was growing awareness of the brutal Tuskegee project in which black men were allowed to die from syphilis so that the progress of the disease could be studied. While the extent to which the medical establishment could abuse African American people is hard to over-state, the idea that Henrietta’s family thought she might still be suffering through her surviving cells feels far-fetched.

There are three main components to this book – Henrietta’s story, the discussion of the various medical ethics issues suggested by what was done to her, and the account of the writing of the book itself. The ethical issues chapters are some of the weaker elements of the book. At points Skloot conflates serious ethical scandals (such as the Tuskagee experiments mentioned earlier) with the taking of tissue samples without informed consent. It is hardly surprising that the paper trail for Henrietta’s consent (if any) to the procedures she underwent is impossible to trace and I struggle the idea that it is a scandal that someone didn’t obtain her informed consent to the tests that were done on her tissue samples and their eventual commercial exploration. She was in intense pain and dying of cancer – the last thing she would have needed is someone trying to explain what they were planning to do with her tissue after its removal. Such consent is not required even to this day, and the case for it being so is very weak.

It is the third element of the narrative, the diary-like description of the creation of the book itself, that comes to dominate the narrative, providing an element of drama, specifically whether Deborah will withdraw her support for the project. Henrietta’s story ends chapters earlier. The space Skloot devotes to her travels and time with Deborah feels self-indulgently ‘meta’ – a book about the writing of a book – and doesn’t contain anything of substance. I felt that at over 350 pages the book could easily have been 100 pages shorter without losing any of its impact. Arguably in the end the author eventually becomes the story herself, which is rarely a good thing, not least in a popular science book. Despite all these reservations, Henrietta’s story is worth retelling and stands on its own as a fascinating combination of science and ethics set against a backdrop of racism and the experience of black people in the period immediately before the civil rights movement.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot, 2010

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Book review

This Boy, by Alan Johnson, 2013

It’s traditional for politicians to write their memoirs after the end of their Parliamentary career. Alan Johnson was a senior figure in the Blair administration, but nonetheless This Boy had to be something special to stand out from the host of other post-Blair/Brown government autobiographies, diaries and memoirs. And it is. What makes this narrative so exceptional is its unsentimental portrait of a childhood of quite profound poverty and deprivation. That fact that the scenes Johnson describe date from the late 1950’s and early 1960’s, not some Dickensian nightmare, make them all the more extraordinary.

How bad was it; just how poor was his family? He regularly went without meals; his social housing in North Kensington, now considered part of trendy Notting Hill, was condemned; he didn’t have an indoor toilet or bathroom until he was in his teens. He faced the daily humiliation of free school meals (when everyone knew who received the free meals and who didn’t) and having to ask shop owners for ‘tick’ (credit). Coal was bought one day at a time because it couldn’t be afforded any other way and the Johnson household was usually bitterly cold, especially during the harsh winters of the early 1960’s.

But despite all that, this is not a misery memoir. These facts are recorded honestly but Johnson doesn’t dwell on them unnecessarily, and rarely seems to feel sorry for himself. (I think his older self feels sad for his younger self, but recognises that at the time he was often happy, especially when his father wasn’t around). Growing up in the 60’s Johnson sees and feels a small part of the immense social change that swept the country as it emerged from a post-war period and the 1964-70 Labour Governments introduced a host of progressive legislation.

Racism disfigured society of the period and Johnson also witnessed more than his fair share of that, as North Kensington saw terrible scenes of abuse of the Windrush generation. It’s not hard to trace the roots of the Labour politician Johnson became in the childhood of this boy.

You often see debates in the media and online about the definition of poverty. Lots of families live in households where the family income is below 60% of the median national income, the most widely used statistical definition, without suffering anything like the deprivation Johnson faced. Some of these families, it is sometimes claimed, are relatively affluent – they don’t go without daily necessities, can afford holidays and things that the middle class might consider luxuries such as mobile phones, cigarettes and flat screen televisions. So what we mean by poverty changes over time, it is relative, and the situation Johnson faced as he grew up was perhaps not as dire as that of the previous generation. The threat of eviction never seems present, social housing however poorly constructed is almost always available (including on several occasions the offer of new housing in the suburbs, most often declined) and jobs seemed to be extremely easy to walk into. If Johnson’s father had contributed to the family finances then a reasonable standard of living was within reach – certainly Johnson describes other family members and friends living in relative comfort. The safety net of the welfare state may not have protected everyone, but it did a pretty good job compared to the absolute poverty of fifty years or so earlier. That aspect of the narrative – that Johnson’s story is one of exceptional hardship, rather than a typical West London boyhood – was often lost in many of the reviews of the book at the time it was originally published. Johnson has corrected this narrative to some extent with his subsequent memoirs covering his early years as a postman, when life was comfortable by comparison.

Johnson’s sister Linda and mother Lily emerge as the heroines of this memoir. Lily worked numerous part-time jobs to keep the family afloat both before and after her husband Steve left, despite her serious health issues which took her life in her early forties. Linda, just three years older than Alan, kept the family together after Lily’s death and showed a remarkable maturity in dealing with the challenges of being orphaned and looking after her younger brother.

This book is written with a refreshing honesty and simplicity. It is obvious from the first page that it is not ghost-written, and the clumsiness of the text is easy to excuse when set beside the rawness of the content. It’s a hard read at times, although knowing that things turn out well for Johnson and his sister helps at lot.

This Boy, by Alan Johnson, 2013

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