It is too early to tell what sort of Prime Minister Theresa May will turn out to be, but we already know who she does not wish to be. From the moment that she arrived in Downing Street she has been inclined to define herself as the Conservative antithesis of David Cameron. She has developed a code for it, saying she’s for ‘the many, not the privileged few’ — as if she is still seeking to portray the Tories as a Nasty Party that must wash away the memory of its old leader. David Cameron got the message and resigned this week: next, he’ll be airbrushed out of No. 10’s photographs to complete his transition from Prime Minister to unperson.
When Cameron is mentioned, he is accused of bearing personal responsibility for the emergence of Islamic State in Libya. Or of conducting an establishment stitch-up whereby Britain was run for the benefit of Old Etonians. In recent weeks, Cameron has done his best to conform to this caricature by granting honours to all his flunkies, including his wife’s stylist. Now, as often in the past, he is his own worst enemy.
Today, no one can be bothered to defend Cameron’s legacy — not even Cameron. This matters, because while he had his failures (the deficit, HS2, the eviscerated military budget, Syria), they were outweighed by his numerous and extraordinary successes. Set aside his successful management of a coalition government that saw Tory radicalism followed by a Tory majority government. He created jobs at a faster rate than any of his predecessors and presided over great improvements in state education. The question Mrs May should ask herself is: how?
On the day of his regrettable decision to resign as an MP, Cameron said that historians would judge his legacy.
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