John Lloyd on an intellectual in power
Daniel Johnson on Brown the unsophisticated bookworm
Geoff Mulgan on the American inspiration behind Brown's thinking
Richard Cockett on the question of Brown's religious faith
Kamran Nazeer on Brown's book Courage
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If we define an intellectual as "author of at least one scholarly book," the last intellectual to be prime minister was AJ Balfour (1902-05; author of A Defence of Philosophic Doubt). The one before was Lord Rosebery (1894-95; author of Napoleon: the Last Phase), and before him WE Gladstone (1868-74, 1880-85, 1886, 1892-94; author of Studies on Homer and the Homeric Age).
Balfour and Rosebery were among the worst prime ministers since 1832. Gladstone was one of the best. So being an intellectual is neither necessary nor sufficient for greatness. But most lists of great and awful prime ministers suggest some qualities that matter. Churchill, Peel, Gladstone, Lloyd George, Asquith and Disraeli share courage, coolness and decisiveness.
Where does intellect come in? All the great PMs were intellectuals in at least one sense—they all had a grasp of the options available, and of the consequences of actions. Peel, Disraeli and Lloyd George were all experts in the art of political manipulation. Each produced at least one utterly startling rabbit out of the political hat—repeal of the Corn Laws, the Second Reform Act, and the Irish treaty of 1921. These feats needed intellect as well as courage.
Intellect can be disabling too. Roy Jenkins describes the contrast between Balfour and his successor Bonar Law: "Where Balfour was detached, equivocal and complex, Law was committed, partisan and simple… Where Balfour could always see a large part of his opponent's case, Law could only see the more salient features of his own. As a result, where Balfour hesitated, Law struck." But Law's strikes between 1911 and 1914 have contributed substantially to the long tragedy of Ulster.
Jenkins himself was the most eminent intellectual in modern politics. His history books—Mr Balfour's Poodle, just quoted; Asquith; Dilke—are getting better and better as they age, like claret. The blackcurrant note of Jenkins's love of his subjects, and the fierce tannin of his portrayals of Queen Victoria, Bonar Law and George V are beautifully balanced. Jenkins saw what was great about Asquith, Gladstone and Churchill, because he had many of the same qualities himself. He would not have been a successful Labour PM, because he was too detached from his party. But others have overcome that, including Peel and Jenkins's protégé Tony Blair.
There have been other intellectuals near the top. Enoch Powell was not only a contrary classicist but also a fine biographer. He was almost alone in understanding the constitutional importance of the European Communities Act 1972. Unfortunately, his self-belief led him to some positions that were barking mad and others that were offensive. Keith Joseph was a true intellectual progenitor of Thatcherism. On becoming secretary of state for industry in 1979, he made all his civil servants read Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations—a precedent that Gordon Brown may be tempted to follow. But his diffidence in public ruled out the top job. Tony Crosland delighted in offending his own party, and so came last when he ran for the Labour leadership in 1976. His rough, egalitarian streak might have been interesting at the very top.
Overseas, Italian prime ministers, including Romano Prodi, are often professors. Manmohan Singh, prime minister of India, is a serious Oxford-trained economist. (Both serious and Oxford-trained.) Fernando Cardoso, ex-president of Brazil, is a member of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. That does not make him a better president than Lula, nor a worse one.
So what should we expect from Gordon Brown? Note how many of the political intellectuals were Scots. Balfour, Rosebery and Gladstone's father all were. Maybe, like Brown, they all absorbed the moral seriousness of the Scottish Enlightenment. In the deepest of his recent economic writings—his Social Market Foundation speech of 2003, in which he set out his conception of the role of the state (to remedy market failure) and of the market (to remedy state failure)—Brown came closer to Adam Smith than he had done before. The sceptical, civilised and humane Smith and David Hume were the two giants of the Scottish Enlightenment. Both had a tough, practical side too.
A man in the tradition of Hume and Smith is not interested in grand dinners nor in country houses. Chequers will take a break under Brown's premiership. But intellectual debate will not. His style will not be that of Cardoso in office, nor of Václav Havel. More, I predict, Adam Smith in his weekly Edinburgh soirée in the Canongate. Expect more weighty, independent (or "independent") reviews. And don't pick a fight with Brown until you have read 200 pages of Wanless on the NHS (have you paid special attention to Appendix E, "The Economics of Externalities"? If not, go to the back of the class), 600 pages of Stern on climate change, and 18 volumes on why Britain should not join the euro.
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