At 54, she still has a lot to give – but don’t expect Truss’ allies to beg her to keep him. To many of his former supporters, Gove is a changed man: someone who began his career as a liberal education reformer, but who somehow ended up in illiberal conservatism and became a key architect of the lockdown. Ms Truss, his former deputy on school reform, saw him as part of what she so half-jokingly called the “axis of evil” – the Little England protectionists who block free trade. I first met Gove when he was my boss, as news editor of The Times and even then he was seen as a celebrity on his way to greatness. He was a Tory moderniser, a biographer of Michael Portillo and a rising star close to David Cameron. As Education Secretary his Academies Act was revolutionary, creating free schools and allowing thousands of other schools to escape local authority control. Like many Tories before him, he took on “the drop” of the educational establishment. Unlike them, he won. Here was a case study of how a man of words – a first-rate columnist – could become a man of action. He was mentored by Dominic Cummings, whom he called his “demon”: a Philip Pullman-type alter ego who does the dirty work. He was likeable, even beloved by those who worked with him. He gave civil servants books he thought they would enjoy, surprising them with his knowledge of their character. “He can compliment you with words that capture the best version of you,” said a colleague. But the school reform hawks hated him for it – and vilified him so much that he was seen as a pollster in the 2015 election. Perhaps that scarred him too deeply. When he moved into the environment, he ended up befriending the lobby groups waiting for him to declare war. His support for Brexit was decisive, lending his intellectual weight and exceptional oratorical skills to a project badly in need of a decent salesman. Boris Johnson added flair and a sense of rebellion, but only after Gove encouraged the campaign. During this campaign, there were signs of Gove’s new illiberal bent. As education secretary he believed in people power: giving teachers the power to set the curriculum, parents the power to choose. But for trade after Brexit? He saw the danger. In private meetings, he spoke of not sacrificing the NHS on the altar of American neoliberalism and of the need to save British consumers from the dangers of chlorine-washed chicken. His Brexit triumph followed one of the most spectacular acts of betrayal in politics. For a campaign manager to backstab the candidate on launch day and then run has no parallel in antiquity, let alone living memory. One could argue that Gove saw, then, the organizational flaws in Johnson that are visible now. In this case, it was a huge misjudgment to become his campaign manager. When Theresa May prevailed, like Truss, she had to settle scores with Gove. So he went to political Siberia. Johnson then forgave him, saying that his undoubted abilities should be used. But in lockdown, Gove recreated his old axis with Cummings (then No10) and both advocated draconian policies, trying to outwit the more cautious Johnson. Gove oversaw a system where SAGE alert reports were never audited and no cost-benefit analysis of economic or educational damage was ever commissioned. Johnson suspected him of being the “talking rat” who leaked a lockout decision in an apparent attempt to make sure the No10 couldn’t get away with it. Gove’s final job was to try to give shape and definition to the ‘ascension’ and he succeeded in a way that the Prime Minister never did. His fall behind Kemi Badenoch’s leadership campaign was significant: he was her boss, but he was ready to step aside and become her spark plug. If it had gone through the Tory backbenchers, it would probably have won – and Gove would, in effect, be a day-to-day government body. But under Truss, he had no chance: he sees him as effective, but malicious. Someone who had to be kept at a very safe distance from the government. When Tracey Ullman satirized Gove for her BBC comedy sketches, she cast him as a babysitter telling the parents “I am confident in my abilities to care for this human infant and you have my categorical assurance that I will not sell it… nor will I eat it. Worried, they fire him. It was a joke with a conclusion drawn by David Cameron, Theresa May, Boris Johnson and Truss about Gove: that he is clever, articulate but – ultimately – not to be trusted. His fans (and I’m still firmly in that camp) see someone who made so many enemies for making so much progress. In training, his incredible skills were put to good use. In lockdown: not so much. A free school recently opened in my neighborhood, and when I walk past it, I think about how it’s a monument to the difference one person can make in politics. Without Gove, there would be no free schools and hardly any Academies. Without him, thousands of working-class students who went to university would probably never have made it. Without him, Brexit probably wouldn’t have happened. His record will be debated for years to come – but few can doubt that he leaves the political frontline as one of the most consistent ministers of modern times.
