Two big comebacks this week—Phillip Schofield and Michael Gove—and who is to say which is the most ground-shaking? One involves confronting “total isolation…and provides the time to battle within his own mind as he explores his own controversial story.” Meanwhile former ITV presenter Schofield has been passing time on an island off Madagascar.
Yes, Michael Gove has been appointed editor of the Spectator. After a 19-year sabbatical from fulltime journalism, he is donning the metaphorical green eye shade and taking the helm of the influential conservative weekly, under the chairmanship of the former Spectator editor, Lord [Charles] Moore.
I barely know Gove and, rereading his record in politics, can hand on heart record that I disagree with most of the things he has said and done during those 19 years in the Westminster trenches—and let’s not even mention Brexit. But I have a tingle of anticipation at the Gove Spectator. He could yet surprise us all.
The reasons Gove ultimately failed as a politician include some of the reasons why he might be a rather good editor. He has a profound sense of mischief. He enjoys causing trouble. He thinks for himself. He doesn’t follow the herd.
The Spectator has been around a very long time and, at its best, has shared some of these qualities: in favour of the 1832 reform act; against Suez; against capital punishment; pro-legalisation of homosexuality; sceptical of the American pursuit of the Vietnam War. I can imagine Gove delighting in confounding his readers’ expectations of what the magazine stands for.
But will he be allowed to? Here we must revisit the motivations of the multi-millionaire who has just purchased the Spectator; sacked its undoubtedly successful editor, Fraser Nelson; and installed his close friend Michael Gove as boss. I speak of Sir Paul Marshall, the restless hedge fund manager who has just splashed out £100m to buy a relatively small circulation weekly.
You will remember Sir Paul. His main previous as a would-be Rupert Murdoch has been as founder and funder of GB News. There, he employed a gaggle of unlovable Tory and Reform MPs, tabloid hacks, conspiracy theorists and outright wingnuts. He’s lost a lot of money, notched up a small raft of Ofcom adjudications and invited a lot of derision—but to what end?
It is said of Sir Paul that he wishes, like Murdoch, to be a player. He has given generously to the academy schools—a passion he shares with Gove. Like Gove, he is a committed Christian and has funnelled considerable sums the way of evangelicals in the Church of England in order to shape it in his own image. He is, like Gove, a committed Brexiter.
There is nothing in Sir Paul’s recent history to suggest he is buying the Spectator as a plaything, or as a cash-cow, any more than he thinks that acquiring the Telegraph (said to still to be in his sights) would be either an act of philanthropy or a path to even greater riches.
No, the evidence is he wants the Spectator to spread the gospel of Paul. And, while Gove may agree with his new boss on many things, becoming an evangelist for the Marshall doctrines would make for a dull old magazine.
The second worry about Gove is whether he has quite settled in his head which side of the line he is when it comes to being a journalist or a politician. There are those who try to ride both horses, but rarely with success. Has Gove jumped for good, or does he still hanker after political intrigue and influence?
Journalism is sometimes called the fourth estate—separate from all other sources of power, whether governmental, religious, aristocratic or otherwise. It derives its power from its independence; from being able to stand apart and offer disinterested scrutiny of everything else.
Can Gove manage that? His reputation, deserved or otherwise, is as the arch schemer. The former Sun editor, Kelvin MacKenzie, described him this week, admiringly, as “disloyal, deceitful and disgruntled.” Nadine Dorries, in her recent book The Plot, was not quite so polite.
Has Marshall anointed his friend so that they can, between them, try to shape the future of the political right in Britain? That might seem, to some, a worthy project. But, again, it would make a dull old magazine.
The Spectator has form in this respect, often involving men called Ian or Iain. It was rescued from a parlous state in the 1950s by Ian Gilmour, who was to become secretary of state for defence under Edward Heath. He appointed Iain Hamilton as editor, only to sack him when he published material that threatened his future political career.
He replaced the popular Hamilton with another Iain, the former cabinet minister, Iain Macleod, which led to a noted letter of protest to the Times from the writer Gerald Barry. “Newspaper ownership,” wrote Barry on 2nd November 1963, “is a public responsibility which, if the press is to retain the confidence and support of the public, must be seen to be decently discharged.
“The circumstances in which an editor is sacked, or a paper committed to a certain line of policy is more than a private affair. It is for this reason that one finds the journalistic ethics currently prevailing in the proprietor’s room at the Spectator so instructive.”
Macleod, like Gove a talented bridge player, lasted barely two years in the job before returning to politics. Rab Butler, a near contemporary in Tory politics, described him as “very shifty, much more so than you think.” He was replaced by Nigel Lawson, who went on to become chancellor of the Exchequer… and, in time, by Boris Johnson. You may remember him.
So there is plenty of precedent at the Spectator for people regarding the editor’s chair as a kind of revolving door between journalism and politics. And the ownership has certainly included its fair share of rogues, including Conrad Black—destined to kick his heels in jail—and the Barclay Brothers. A full account of the latters’ lives may have to wait until both are safely past being able to consult their libel lawyers, except via an Ouija board.
Despite all of the above, I think the Govester has it in him to be a terrific editor of the Spectator. But he should read up on the history of his predecessors and renounce, once and for all, any political ambition. And be prepared, in extremis, to tell his friend and proprietor where to shove it.
