Tony Blair: The ordinary dad who was all things to all voters

Telegraph

24-02-2025

This article is published as part of The Telegraph's Greatest Interviews series, which revisits the most significant, informative and entertaining conversations with notable figures over our 170 year history. The below interview is introduced by Philip Johnston. It appears as it was originally published.
Given the fickle nature of the modern voter it is hard to believe that there was a time when a new prime minister nearly two years into his term of office remained hugely popular in the country. Tony Blair had arrived in Downing Street as the harbinger of Cool Britannia after 17 years of Conservative rule, the first occupant of No 10 in modern times to have a young family. His chameleon-like qualities are well observed by Tom Baldwin, The Sunday Telegraph 's then political editor, telling Islington types he likes pasta while assuring his northern constituents his favourite meal was fish and chips. But that was his rare talent – to be all things to all voters.
He was in the throes of ejecting most hereditary peers from the Lords, a task about to be completed by Sir Keir Starmer, and finding it hard to get anything done against the obduracy of the Whitehall machine. Nothing changes. Iraq, which would come to define his premiership, was not even a speck on the horizon. – Philip Johnston
The Prime Minister was sitting on a small stool surrounded by three year-old-children listening to the story of Mr Wiggle and Mr Waggle, when he was suddenly faced with a question far trickier than any fired at him in the Commons.
'Let's ask Mr Blair,' said the teacher, 'what Mr Wiggle and Mr Waggle did together before they went to sleep?' Panic flashed in Tony Blair's eyes as he glanced towards the photographers in front of him.
What indeed? What did that poster say on the wall? What was the message on the lapel badge he had just been given? The cloud lifted. 'Er . . . they read a book!' shouted Mr Blair triumphantly.
The children smiled on in innocence and the adults laughed with relief. After all, he was visiting the Newton Aycliffe Early Learning Centre in his own seat of Sedgefield in County Durham. But that moment of doubt – and its resolution – summed up Mr Blair's message last week: whatever the cynics think, New Labour is, in fact, wholesome, decent and, above all, normal.
The Government acknowledges that the rash of resignations and reports of 'junketing', as well as the exposure of some of the more lurid details of ministers' private lives, have all tarnished Labour's reputation.
However, in an exclusive interview with The Sunday Telegraph as he travelled to the North East on Friday, Mr Blair voiced his frustration at what he sees as the failure of the Conservative Party – and possibly the media as well – to raise its sights.
'The questions I'm asked by the Tories are things like travel costs, the number of times I've spoken to Peter Mandelson recently, how long it takes me to get to an airport – you don't know whether to laugh or cry.'
As a matter of fact, as he was speaking, it was taking very little time to get to the airport. Motorcycle outriders cleared a path for the Prime Ministerial Daimler through the morning traffic on the way to Heathrow for his flight to the North East.
But it was not until he had put what he regards as a trivia-obsessed 'Westminster village' far behind him that he began to unwind and explain how he would 'seek new ways' to speak directly to the public about his 'vision for this country' and the issues which really affect them such as health, education, welfare, crime.
However, that does not mean eschewing personality politics – far from it. Much of what New Labour stands for on these issues, as well as the future of the Government, is now tightly bound to the image of Mr Blair himself and that of his family. When he arrived at a shopping centre in his constituency he was treated like the pop star he once wanted to be. A pair of Trotskyists stood for a minute at the edge of the crowd, forlornly waving a copy of Socialist Worker, before walking away with heads bowed. There was no point in heckling, it just did not seem like a political event.
'You were just like Mick Jagger,' a woman in the crowd told him. 'Come on, let's not exaggerate,' said the Prime Minister. He was similarly keen to play down his image as head of a British 'first family' which at times has been portrayed as an almost idealised vision of domestic bliss.
'Believe me, I don't hold my family out as better than that of anyone else, we are just a normal family. We have our share of ups and downs like everyone else,' he said.
Indeed, it is the Prime Minister's claims to ordinariness which are at the heart of his appeal. He is seen as just about normal enough to understand the rest of us. Cherie, goes out to work – albeit as a highly successful barrister – their children are at state schools, they like watching television together, they discuss rock music, support football clubs.
Like many other middle class parents, the Blairs have sought the best possible schools for their children. But a recent story in a Sunday newspaper suggesting that their daughter, Kathyrn, received 'special treatment' in winning a place at her school, prompted an immediate letter to the Press Complaints Commission. He had to draw a line, he said, at a story which was 'untrue and unfair'.
The Prime Minister conceded that living in the public eye, protected by armed policemen, at the very heart of government, might be regarded as a touch unusual by some people: 'If you are basically quite a normal family, which we are, it's quite a strange life sometimes.'
But unlike that experienced by members of the Royal Family, he knows it will not last forever and is warning his children not to get too used to it: they will find that there comes a time when he is no longer Prime Minister and they will have to 'make their own way in life'. Friends are encouraged to come round after school, just like with any other family. 'We've known a lot of them for some time and they certainly don't treat me as Prime Minister, I can tell you that.'
He insists that his regular anecdotes about family life are prompted by inquiries from the media. 'If people are talking about children's learning at school it is difficult not to say whether or not I read to my kids – as Prime Minister my family is inevitably in the public eye.'
However, in Sedgefield last week, Mr Blair was not slow to volunteer references to his family. As he was presented with a Chinese New Year card, he remarked that his brother was married to a 'Chinese lady'. Later, leaning on a bannister at a parenting class, he came over all dreamy at the memory of the birth of his first baby. 'You know, I find it just amazing at how different all our children turn out to be.'
It is what Mr Blair is best at, talking and listening to people about their shared experiences in a way which does not end in party sloganising. He does not seem like a politician – certainly not a Labour one – because he did not grow up in the party. He can reach out not just to supporters of rival parties but to their leaders as well.
Mr Blair confirmed to The Sunday Telegraph that he had considered offering Paddy Ashdown a seat in the Cabinet if Labour had secured only a small majority at the last election.
Would he do so again? 'I have no plans for coalition government,' he said, but added: 'There is a limit to how far you can read the future. I believe that in today's politics, tribalism holds back progress.'
Does he have more in common with Mr Ashdown than with some of his own members? 'It depends which members you're talking about.'
The Prime Minister uses similarly equivocal words on his policy towards Europe and Britain's likely entry into the single currency – while making his ultimate intentions similarly transparent.
Although he will not budge from the Government's declared position – which is to prepare for entry but to delay a decision on whether or not to call a referendum on joining until after the next election – he is under pressure to do so from pro-euro businesses, EU partners and government colleagues.
Will he firm up the language closer to the election, will he say it is a question of 'when, not if'? 'No,' he replied, 'it is a long way until the next election.'
But just minutes later, as he discussed the prospect of Kenneth Clarke joining a cross-party, pro-euro referendum campaign, he said: 'We will wait and see when that happens.'
He then called on Mr Clarke, the former Chancellor, to stay in the Conservative Party for the sake of the 'national interest' and save it from the clutches of Right-wing Euro-sceptics who, he warned, were controlling Tory policy.
'I am sure that William Hague does not need my help or advice, but it is obvious that the Conservative Party has a fundamental division [on Europe] and they are not confronting it.'
Mr Blair must be the only Labour leader in history who could, in the 'national interest', give Tory politicians advice on how to run their party and keep a straight face.
But his definition of the political centreground on which he has positioned himself, shifts constantly. Mr Blair can condemn hereditary peers in one breath for being unrepresentative because half of them went to Eton, and then add in the next that he has 'nothing against people attending Eton, don't get me wrong'.
Mr Hague believes such statements show that the Prime Minister is trying to be 'all things to all men' and stretching his credibility too far. The Tory leader has ridiculed Mr Blair for telling an Islington recipe book that his favourite dish was pasta and sun dried tomatoes – while telling his constituents back in the North East that it could only be fish and chips.
However, as soon as the Prime Minister got back to his constituency home in Trimdon on Friday he had his jacket and tie off and was cramming fish and chips into his mouth with true passion. Such were his powers that The Sunday Telegraph even agreed to pay for them.