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Tessa Jowell: ‘I would never be able to answer that question, “Well, why didn’t you try?”’ Tessa Jowell: ‘I would never be able to answer that question, “Well, why didn’t you try?”’
(about 7 hours later)
In September 2007, on her 60th birthday, Tessa Jowell woke up in the northern Namibian bush, not far from the town of Ondangwa. Three months earlier, Gordon Brown had demoted her from the cabinet; it was a year and a half since she had separated from her husband, the lawyer David Mills, in the midst of the media furore that blew up after Italian prosecutors accused him of accepting a £350,000 bribe to testify in Silvio Berlusconi’s defence in a corruption case. Jowell, who was in Namibia working with the charity Sports Coaches Outreach, was shaken awake by an “extremely disciplinarian” teenager, and led off for a shower. It was 35 degrees, the sky a brilliant blue. “I was standing there behind a rather insubstantial wattle screen,” Jowell remembers, “and I thought, ‘I am 60 years old.’ And I looked up at the sky, and I threw a bucket of cold water over myself, and then I thought: ‘This is what 60 is. I’m in Ondangwa, and I can do what I want.’”In September 2007, on her 60th birthday, Tessa Jowell woke up in the northern Namibian bush, not far from the town of Ondangwa. Three months earlier, Gordon Brown had demoted her from the cabinet; it was a year and a half since she had separated from her husband, the lawyer David Mills, in the midst of the media furore that blew up after Italian prosecutors accused him of accepting a £350,000 bribe to testify in Silvio Berlusconi’s defence in a corruption case. Jowell, who was in Namibia working with the charity Sports Coaches Outreach, was shaken awake by an “extremely disciplinarian” teenager, and led off for a shower. It was 35 degrees, the sky a brilliant blue. “I was standing there behind a rather insubstantial wattle screen,” Jowell remembers, “and I thought, ‘I am 60 years old.’ And I looked up at the sky, and I threw a bucket of cold water over myself, and then I thought: ‘This is what 60 is. I’m in Ondangwa, and I can do what I want.’”
This week, nearly eight years after that liberating moment, Jowell found herself in London, trying to fend off another political controversy. A Labour party member, Rachel Coldbreath, had tweeted her disgust after a volunteer on Jowell’s mayoral campaign had called to ask for her vote and told her that Jowell’s chief rival for the nomination, Sadiq Khan, was “a liability” because he is a Muslim. “We dealt with it properly, we dealt with it very quickly,” Jowell says. “I phoned the woman, and I tried to ring Sadiq to tell him how sorry I was, but I couldn’t get through, so I texted him.” She gives a deep sigh. “Oh, it’s horrible. It’s just intolerable.”This week, nearly eight years after that liberating moment, Jowell found herself in London, trying to fend off another political controversy. A Labour party member, Rachel Coldbreath, had tweeted her disgust after a volunteer on Jowell’s mayoral campaign had called to ask for her vote and told her that Jowell’s chief rival for the nomination, Sadiq Khan, was “a liability” because he is a Muslim. “We dealt with it properly, we dealt with it very quickly,” Jowell says. “I phoned the woman, and I tried to ring Sadiq to tell him how sorry I was, but I couldn’t get through, so I texted him.” She gives a deep sigh. “Oh, it’s horrible. It’s just intolerable.”
Jowell was one of only four members of Tony Blair’s first cabinet who was still in ministerial office when the party was deposed in 2010. After more than two decades as a member of parliament, you could forgive her for deciding that she had had enough of this sort of thing, and settling into the comforts of her new peerage. Instead, just a few months after standing down as an MP in May this year, and as fellow senior Blairites turn to punditry and professorships, Jowell is on the final straight of the race for the Labour nomination for mayor of London, and is making her last attempts to win support before the ballot closes next week. In a field that also includes David Lammy and Diane Abbott, it’s close – but if she were to prevail and then beat the likely Conservative candidate, Zac Goldsmith, she would be embarking on a job that could take her to her 77th year, perhaps contending with a national leader in Jeremy Corbyn whose politics are light years from her own. How on earth is she still up for it? Jowell was one of only four members of Tony Blair’s first ministerial team who was still in office when the party was deposed in 2010. After more than two decades as a member of parliament, you could forgive her for deciding that she had had enough of this sort of thing, and settling into the comforts of her new peerage. Instead, just a few months after standing down as an MP in May this year, and as fellow senior Blairites turn to punditry and professorships, Jowell is on the final straight of the race for the Labour nomination for mayor of London, and is making her last attempts to win support before the ballot closes next week. In a field that also includes David Lammy and Diane Abbott, it’s close – but if she were to prevail and then beat the likely Conservative candidate, Zac Goldsmith, she would be embarking on a job that could take her to her 77th year, perhaps contending with a national leader in Jeremy Corbyn whose politics are light years from her own. How on earth is she still up for it?
Jowell is sitting in a bright white conference room at the back of Livity, a youth engagement organisation in her old constituency in Brixton that she sees as a model for the “One London” approach on which she is pinning her mayoral hopes. To explain her desire for the job, she recalls the year-long process of deciding to run. Her mother had been very sick; meanwhile, she had been offered a prestigious role at Harvard’s School of Public Health. “I could be teaching the global health leaders of the next generation,” she says. “But I’m not. This is what I want to do. My mother was 95, and very frail, and I used to see her every week, and I didn’t see how I could continue to look after her [and run for office]. It’s a good principle in these situations to say, “Where am I irreplaceable?”, and I was irreplaceable to her. And then she died in November, and she had a very good death, and then I felt I could do it. Over Christmas, my family” – she is now reconciled with Mills – “were absolutely up for me doing it ... and I thought, you know, I could give these years of my life to doing this. I would never be able to answer that question in my head: ‘Well, why wouldn’t you try?’”Jowell is sitting in a bright white conference room at the back of Livity, a youth engagement organisation in her old constituency in Brixton that she sees as a model for the “One London” approach on which she is pinning her mayoral hopes. To explain her desire for the job, she recalls the year-long process of deciding to run. Her mother had been very sick; meanwhile, she had been offered a prestigious role at Harvard’s School of Public Health. “I could be teaching the global health leaders of the next generation,” she says. “But I’m not. This is what I want to do. My mother was 95, and very frail, and I used to see her every week, and I didn’t see how I could continue to look after her [and run for office]. It’s a good principle in these situations to say, “Where am I irreplaceable?”, and I was irreplaceable to her. And then she died in November, and she had a very good death, and then I felt I could do it. Over Christmas, my family” – she is now reconciled with Mills – “were absolutely up for me doing it ... and I thought, you know, I could give these years of my life to doing this. I would never be able to answer that question in my head: ‘Well, why wouldn’t you try?’”
As she speaks, Jowell sits on the edge of her seat and leans forward, her sharp blue eyes locked on me in a gaze that’s at once beseeching and stern. There’s no doubting her sincerity, or her charm. And yet it’s a curious experience, talking to her. Everything she says seems candid (sometimes remarkably candid) and politically expedient at the same time. Sometimes she says something with a show of improvised relish, as if she’s just thought of it – and I’ve already read it in another interview. Perhaps I’m being cynical. “It’s not a conscious decision,” she says, a little affronted, when I ask her how she decides how much of herself to give away. “We’re having a conversation, and I’m telling you what I feel and think.”As she speaks, Jowell sits on the edge of her seat and leans forward, her sharp blue eyes locked on me in a gaze that’s at once beseeching and stern. There’s no doubting her sincerity, or her charm. And yet it’s a curious experience, talking to her. Everything she says seems candid (sometimes remarkably candid) and politically expedient at the same time. Sometimes she says something with a show of improvised relish, as if she’s just thought of it – and I’ve already read it in another interview. Perhaps I’m being cynical. “It’s not a conscious decision,” she says, a little affronted, when I ask her how she decides how much of herself to give away. “We’re having a conversation, and I’m telling you what I feel and think.”
She has a reputation as one of New Labour’s most disciplined loyalists, the scourge of off-the-record briefing, which stands a little at odds with the idea that this is Jowell uncensored, or that she ever is. One close observer of the party recalls seeing her the day after her friend David Miliband was defeated by his brother. As other members of her political tribe talked freely about a disaster for the party, Jowell was instantly on-message. It’s hard to decide if this is a matter of political calculation, or of principle, or of both. She possesses, Alan Johnson wrote in a May endorsement, “all the warmth in the world, but a core of absolute steel.”She has a reputation as one of New Labour’s most disciplined loyalists, the scourge of off-the-record briefing, which stands a little at odds with the idea that this is Jowell uncensored, or that she ever is. One close observer of the party recalls seeing her the day after her friend David Miliband was defeated by his brother. As other members of her political tribe talked freely about a disaster for the party, Jowell was instantly on-message. It’s hard to decide if this is a matter of political calculation, or of principle, or of both. She possesses, Alan Johnson wrote in a May endorsement, “all the warmth in the world, but a core of absolute steel.”
Likewise, when I make a doomed attempt to nudge her off the fence over Jeremy Corbyn, a man someone of her politics would plainly see as a catastrophe for the Labour party, she steadfastly refuses to budge, insisting: “I’m sorry to be tiresome about it, but it is quite frankly not a debate that I want to engage.” Perhaps this is partly because she really does think it’s important to avoid acrimony. But it may also have something to do with the new influx of Labour supporters brought in by Corbyn – about 120,000 in London last month alone – whose votes may shape this race, too, in the direction of Khan. How will she handle them? “It’s not something to be afraid of, or to say, ‘God, isn’t it a catastrophe, all these young people are joining the party,’” she says firmly. “No, it’s not. And what we’ve got to do is, if you like, to channel their enthusiasm.”Likewise, when I make a doomed attempt to nudge her off the fence over Jeremy Corbyn, a man someone of her politics would plainly see as a catastrophe for the Labour party, she steadfastly refuses to budge, insisting: “I’m sorry to be tiresome about it, but it is quite frankly not a debate that I want to engage.” Perhaps this is partly because she really does think it’s important to avoid acrimony. But it may also have something to do with the new influx of Labour supporters brought in by Corbyn – about 120,000 in London last month alone – whose votes may shape this race, too, in the direction of Khan. How will she handle them? “It’s not something to be afraid of, or to say, ‘God, isn’t it a catastrophe, all these young people are joining the party,’” she says firmly. “No, it’s not. And what we’ve got to do is, if you like, to channel their enthusiasm.”
But it’s not really what she wants to talk about. She deftly channels her answer, as if it were a recalcitrant Corbynista, into the Olympics and Sure Start, her two flagship achievements as a minister. She does this quite a lot: ask a question about whether Zac Goldsmith wouldn’t have a better chance of working well with a Conservative government and she will soon be explaining her plans for one-hour bus tickets. This happens partly because she sees her One London policy slate as a seamless plan to save the city from a process of being “irreparably divided and hollowed out”, and so her policy plans tumble out on top of each other. Socially mixed schools and places such as Livity, which gets young people from Brixton involved in a mutually beneficial marketing business, are, she says, “the poetry of One London”; the “architecture”, meanwhile, “has got to be to build homes in mixed communities” – affordable housing on publicly owned land at a rate of 2,000 homes a year. “I’m sure there are people who want to live in Belgrave Square and they don’t want to go near anyone who isn’t just like them,” she says. “But most people come to London because they love the diversity.”But it’s not really what she wants to talk about. She deftly channels her answer, as if it were a recalcitrant Corbynista, into the Olympics and Sure Start, her two flagship achievements as a minister. She does this quite a lot: ask a question about whether Zac Goldsmith wouldn’t have a better chance of working well with a Conservative government and she will soon be explaining her plans for one-hour bus tickets. This happens partly because she sees her One London policy slate as a seamless plan to save the city from a process of being “irreparably divided and hollowed out”, and so her policy plans tumble out on top of each other. Socially mixed schools and places such as Livity, which gets young people from Brixton involved in a mutually beneficial marketing business, are, she says, “the poetry of One London”; the “architecture”, meanwhile, “has got to be to build homes in mixed communities” – affordable housing on publicly owned land at a rate of 2,000 homes a year. “I’m sure there are people who want to live in Belgrave Square and they don’t want to go near anyone who isn’t just like them,” she says. “But most people come to London because they love the diversity.”
Another bit of the plan is her idea for “10 things to do before you’re 10” – whereby every London schoolchild will get to do the sorts of things that would seem unexceptional to most of the middle-class ones – go to the seaside, take a drama class, go camping. Some people have called this a gimmick, I say mildly, with a resemblance to a recent promotion by the National Trust, and Jowell pops with indignation, practically spitting with the force of her words. “Do you know what?” she snaps. “It’s only a gimmick to people who do that every single day of the week for their children, and it makes me sick, you know, it’s the kind of remark that people who don’t know these kids, who don’t necessarily know these people, would make. These kids are entitled to have exactly the same kind of experience that your parents gave you and that my kids have had ... I get pissed off by the moneyed middle classes, because it will be them, dumping on these ideas.”Another bit of the plan is her idea for “10 things to do before you’re 10” – whereby every London schoolchild will get to do the sorts of things that would seem unexceptional to most of the middle-class ones – go to the seaside, take a drama class, go camping. Some people have called this a gimmick, I say mildly, with a resemblance to a recent promotion by the National Trust, and Jowell pops with indignation, practically spitting with the force of her words. “Do you know what?” she snaps. “It’s only a gimmick to people who do that every single day of the week for their children, and it makes me sick, you know, it’s the kind of remark that people who don’t know these kids, who don’t necessarily know these people, would make. These kids are entitled to have exactly the same kind of experience that your parents gave you and that my kids have had ... I get pissed off by the moneyed middle classes, because it will be them, dumping on these ideas.”
When she speaks like this, she seems liberated, if not quite as thoroughly as by a cold shower in Namibia. For a team player like her, she says, it is thrilling “not to have to sort of send everything to the leader’s office, or to get it signed off”. So will that be enough to keep her energised for another eight years? The question of energy is one she’s a little tired of. “I’ll race you to the bus stop,” she says drily, and then sighs and gives me a look. “Do you know, all the people who say this, they’re all young men. Just bloody get over it. The world is changing, and one of the ways the world will change is that women of my age will reach a stage of liberation from all the responsibilities that you have to factor in, all those areas in which you are, from a family point of view, irreplaceable.”When she speaks like this, she seems liberated, if not quite as thoroughly as by a cold shower in Namibia. For a team player like her, she says, it is thrilling “not to have to sort of send everything to the leader’s office, or to get it signed off”. So will that be enough to keep her energised for another eight years? The question of energy is one she’s a little tired of. “I’ll race you to the bus stop,” she says drily, and then sighs and gives me a look. “Do you know, all the people who say this, they’re all young men. Just bloody get over it. The world is changing, and one of the ways the world will change is that women of my age will reach a stage of liberation from all the responsibilities that you have to factor in, all those areas in which you are, from a family point of view, irreplaceable.”
She’s referring to her late mother, and her duty to her two children, now grown up. I wonder, too, if she’s thinking of the trauma of her temporary separation from Mills; whether, when you’ve experienced just about the worst that politics can throw at you, everything else seems like small fry. I’m expecting an answer about her inner strength, but it’s not what I get. “I think ...” she says, and leans on her elbow and stares at the table. There’s a long pause, and it feels like she’s hardly aware that I and her aide, Pete, are there. Eventually, she continues. “Because that was such hell, such hell, you know, that was why we talked so much about whether I should do this.” There’s another long pause before she says, quietly: “Well, I just hope that that time never comes again. I hope it never comes again. It was unbearable. It was absolutely unbearable.”She’s referring to her late mother, and her duty to her two children, now grown up. I wonder, too, if she’s thinking of the trauma of her temporary separation from Mills; whether, when you’ve experienced just about the worst that politics can throw at you, everything else seems like small fry. I’m expecting an answer about her inner strength, but it’s not what I get. “I think ...” she says, and leans on her elbow and stares at the table. There’s a long pause, and it feels like she’s hardly aware that I and her aide, Pete, are there. Eventually, she continues. “Because that was such hell, such hell, you know, that was why we talked so much about whether I should do this.” There’s another long pause before she says, quietly: “Well, I just hope that that time never comes again. I hope it never comes again. It was unbearable. It was absolutely unbearable.”
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For all her enthusiasm, there’s now something like dread in her voice – but resolution, too. “Our family is in a very different place now,” she says. “They want to keep out of it, and I want to keep them out of it. I’m the one who’s standing for election and, in a way, whoever wants to pour shit over me will just have to pour shit over me and I just ... you know, I hope I can deal with that.” And her family? “I feel ferociously protective of them. And, you know, I think that’s increasingly a judgment for anyone putting their head above the parapet. You kind of feel superstitious about kicking the anthill.”For all her enthusiasm, there’s now something like dread in her voice – but resolution, too. “Our family is in a very different place now,” she says. “They want to keep out of it, and I want to keep them out of it. I’m the one who’s standing for election and, in a way, whoever wants to pour shit over me will just have to pour shit over me and I just ... you know, I hope I can deal with that.” And her family? “I feel ferociously protective of them. And, you know, I think that’s increasingly a judgment for anyone putting their head above the parapet. You kind of feel superstitious about kicking the anthill.”
In moments like this, or when Jowell visibly wells up describing her pride at seeing the Olympic torch in Brixton’s Windrush Square in front of an audience of 2,000 people a year after the riots, it’s hard to believe that it’s all just a performance; it’s more like she knows how to capitalise on being a human being. In other words, she’s a natural politician. When I follow up with her on the phone the next day, she says that she’s been thinking about the question of how much she chooses to reveal. “I think,” she says carefully, “that there’s a lot of it that’s just ... me.”In moments like this, or when Jowell visibly wells up describing her pride at seeing the Olympic torch in Brixton’s Windrush Square in front of an audience of 2,000 people a year after the riots, it’s hard to believe that it’s all just a performance; it’s more like she knows how to capitalise on being a human being. In other words, she’s a natural politician. When I follow up with her on the phone the next day, she says that she’s been thinking about the question of how much she chooses to reveal. “I think,” she says carefully, “that there’s a lot of it that’s just ... me.”
• This article was amended on 5 September 2015. An earlier version stated that Jowell joined the cabinet in 1997. In fact she became a junior minister.