What a political crisis used to look like. Remembering the time Tony Blair got slow hand clapped by the Women’s Institute This was not a Windrush or Grenfell scandal. There was no ‘doomsday plan’ being modelled in the event of the country’s economic collapse. […]

This was not a Windrush or Grenfell scandal . There was no ‘doomsday plan’ being modelled in the event of the country’s economic collapse. On the contrary, unemployment was at its lowest level for twenty years and take-home pay had risen 10% since 1997. Neither of which stopped The Sun from predicting that William Hague would become prime minister, overturning Labour’s huge 179 majority.

An awkward speech

Discontent began when Blair posed for journalists outside Number 10 in a denim shirt whilst drinking tea from a mug with a picture of his children on it. Dismissed as a crude attempt to reinforce his image of fatherhood to Middle England, ‘Mug-gate’ followed the birth of his new son Leo. Cynics claimed he had been conceived solely to boost Labour’s standing in the poll after the tabloids were fed constant updates on the progress of the pregnancy.

It triggered a mini-revival for the Tory leader William Hague, who played to his base with a renewed focus on policies of immigration, Europe and law and order. Coining the phrase ‘Islington elite’ to attack the government, it was soon picked up by supportive commentators Michael Gove in The Times and Boris Johnson in The Telegraph. From the left, New Labour represented a different type of elitism; of Thatcherite Neoliberalism. Devoid of influence within the Blair administration, the left took to extra-parliamentary action to express their anger. When a ‘Reclaim the Streets’ anti-capitalist protest descended into riots – with the Winston Churchill statue in Parliament Square and the Cenotaph defaced – Blair condemned left-wing violence as ‘mindless thuggery’. To the dismay of Labour backbenchers Tony Benn and Jeremy Corbyn, any debate about the merits of capitalism was rejected as reactionary and futile. After fifty years as an MP, Benn was on the verge of relinquishing his seat at the next election. One night, over cups of tea in Benn’s office, his long-time protégé Corbyn admitted that there was one final chance to save the party; by electing Ken Livingstone as London Mayor. The i politics newsletter cut through the noise Email address is invalid Email address is invalid Thank you for subscribing! Sorry, there was a problem with your subscription.

Livingstone was standing as an Independent against the Blairite candidate Frank Dobson. Blair warned London that Livingstone “would be a disaster – a financial disaster, a disaster in terms of crime and police and business.” However, depicting Dobson as a stooge, Livingstone came to represent the voice of authentic Labour. When it emerged that the government had focus grouped the merits of Dobson shaving off his beard – in a final bid to save his ailing campaign – the game was up. Livingstone won easily while Dobson came third. The left finally landed a punch on Blair. Unbowed by the Dobson defeat, the prime minister took the unusual step of re-launching his agenda at the Women’s Institute Conference at Wembley Arena. The emphasis being that there was no area where the New Labour message could not resonate. The re-launch was trailed heavily to Middle England newspapers, with The Telegraph leading the way with a front page splash; “Blair’s back with an appeal to tradition.” Yet by trying to set the narrative before a word had been spoken, Blair had conformed to the growing belief that he was all spin and no substance. Arriving late, Blair began his speech by ticking off his list of achievements, before setting out his stall for the future. After telling them “I’ve spent a long time trying to work very hard on the health service”, the 10,000 strong audience began slow hand-clapping. They had not turned up to hear a party political broadcast.

After stumbling a nervous “thank you very much”, Blair – suffering from what Alistair Campbell dubbed his ‘Bambi’ look – nodded to the WI chair, Helen Carey, to intervene. She stepped in and asked the ladies to stop the abuse “out of politeness'” if nothing else. Blair offered an embarrassed, “Well I’m glad we are having a debate,” which was precisely the opposite of what was happening. Stunned by the turn of events, he finished his speech early, before asking an aide, “What on earth was all that about?” The Day The Magic Died The slow hand-clap immediately became the symbol of the growing discontent with the government. Campbell found Blair that evening “sitting in his chair, with his hand on his chin…hurt and worried.” The prime minister asked him whether “the people of this country were so stupid they could kick us out and go back to the Tories?” With his three-figure majority not coming into consideration, he lamented, “Britain is such a Conservative country that they will do anything to get us out.” Having been outgunned by the New Labour spin machine for six years, the press felt empowered by the gaffe. Front page headlines such as the Daily Mirror’s “Handbagged”, the Daily Mail’s “WI Ladies who humiliated Blair” and The Guardian’s “Blair bombs at WI” marked the first instance of unanimous press discontent with the government.