New Labour goes back to the old days as Charlie Whelan returns

Chris Blackhurst
17 Mar 2010

One of the most intense rows I've ever had in my career was over Gordon Brown's bath. Not standing literally alongside the Prime Minister as he scrubbed himself, you understand, but over the subject of his bath.

It was with Charlie Whelan, then Brown's spokesman. I was working on another newspaper. A freelance journalist for a feature had accompanied Brown for a week in London and to his home in Fife for the weekend. It was in Brown's bachelor days before Sarah, later Mrs Brown, was on the scene, and the writer had noted how when she went to use Brown's bathroom in Scotland she found that the bath was piled high with books.

In order to gain access to Brown, the writer had agreed copy approval. I was despatched to deal with Whelan.

In the entire, lengthy article the two details he pounced on and wanted excised were that Brown's wardrobe contained only dark suits, white shirts and plain ties (the author had nosed around the house) and the bath.

Whelan dropped the objection to the lack of decorative garb — when you think about it, Brown's dress sense was obvious and could not be hidden.

But the bath. That was different. He felt it belittled Gordon and would subject him to ridicule. Take it out, he ordered. It's a fact, I spluttered. Back and forth we went for the best part of a day, Whelan swearing like a trooper.

In the end, Whelan had the upper hand — no consent, no article — so the description of his boss's personal grooming arrangements was duly removed.

What I took from the episode was Whelan's unwavering stance and his fierce loyalty to Brown. Some spin doctors might have been tempted to let it go — after all it wasn't in the same league as a verbal aside about a senior colleague — but Whelan simply would not budge. He was cute as well — he knew what the bath said about his workaholic chief.

After a spell in the political wilderness, fishing, shooting and doing occasional journalism himself from the Scottish Highlands, Whelan is back in the Westminster firmament.

As political director of the Unite trade union, he is playing a key role in determining the outcome of the strike called by its members against British Airways. Whelan has been acting as a conduit between the union's co-head Tony Woodley (to whom he is close) and Downing Street.

His leverage can be seen in the statements of Woodley and Brown. Woodley has changed his tune so that Unite is prepared to put off the planned strikes if the airline renews its negotiating offer — a move that will help the Labour Prime Minister. Brown has condemned the walkout as “deplorable” and “unjustified” — crucially without damning the union chiefs.

All the signs are of a push for a last-minute peace being brokered by Whelan, one that will prevent embarrassment for Brown in the run-up to the election. At the very least, Whelan will try to stall the dispute for two months until the poll is over.

Any awkwardness Whelan may experience at being caught between two masters is likely to be diminished by the most important target, of a looming ballot and securing a victory for Brown.

Unite gave £3.5 million last year to Labour (a quarter of donations the party receives). Whelan may be called political director but much of his time is occupied by Labour's marginal seats campaign (he's also been drafted in to help Brown on the election media strategy).

“It's where the election will be won and lost. His brief is to counter Michael Ashcroft,” said a friend of Whelan, referring to the Tories' major backer and organiser of their efforts in the “must win” constituencies.

At first sight, Whelan and Ashcroft couldn't be more different.

Apart from a brief dalliance in the City, the former has spent all his time working in the unions and Labour movement. Ashcroft has amassed a fortune by a series of international takeovers and complex wheeler-dealing. Whelan has his home in Scotland at Dulnain Bridge near Grantown-on-Spey; Ashcroft has homes in London, Maidenhead and Belize and has a private plane and two yachts.

However, a friend says: “[Whelan] may be a socialist but he likes the good things in life,” and after he resigned as Brown's mouthpiece in 1999, when he leaked information about Peter Mandelson's home loan arrangements, Whelan lived the life of a country gentleman, with his partner Philippa, also a union official, walking, fishing and shooting.

He also shares with Ashcroft an appreciation of money — I recall him once telling me in hushed tones how admiring he was of a wealthy Labour figure whose wallet contained “real £50 notes”.

And he has an assiduous attention to detail. In the marginals, he has installed a virtual phone bank — software enabling Unite members to ring round lots of other members and galvanise votes without them leaving their homes.

“In 90 key seats the Unite membership is larger than the current Labour majority,” said Whelan.

“If almost every Unite member voted Labour, we would win the election. If the union delivers votes it has a lot more influence than if it simply delivers cash. That is the brutal truth.”

Since taking the Unite post in 2007, Whelan has spent Monday to Thursday most weeks in London, returning to Scotland on Fridays. It would be foolish, however, to suppose that his love of the great outdoors has somehow weakened his zeal or his temper.

He's a wind-up and revels in playing the outsider. The son of a Tory-supporting civil servant, he went to a state-run boarding school in Surrey designed to instil a public school ethos.

There he provoked a strike after a pupil was sent home for not having a hair cut. He was a member of the Communist Party and his heroes are the fighters of the International Brigades in the Spanish Civil War and Che Guevara. He likes to be cast as a Cockney geezer who likes a drink and knows little about the economy. Only the bit about bars is accurate.

Whelan is highly sociable and good, wise-cracking company. Sometimes. He can also be incredibly aggressive. His stock phrases are “bollocks” and “total bollocks”.

In Labour, he's credited with being one of the few prepared to stand up to Lord Mandelson, putting his face right next to the arch-communicator and saying: “You are a total, fucking bastard. I am not going to take any crap from you.”

The expletives mask a calculating brain. He may at times be a liability — his tendency to fire from the hip has got him into trouble in the past — but as he has shown at Unite and with the marginals campaign he can be an effective operator.

But first, there is a tricky BA strike to sort out…

THE LIFE AND TIMES OF CHARLIE WHELAN

Born: 1954
Education: Ottershaw School, City of London Polytechnic (politics)
First job: forex dealer
Key moves: researcher to Jimmy Airlie of the AEEU trade union; press officer, AEEU; spokesman for Gordon Brown in Opposition as shadow chancellor and in the Treasury as chancellor; broadcaster and journalist; political director of Unite union
Hobbies: fly-fishing, shooting, football, cricket (member MCC)