What
happened to her lead?
When Britain’s Prime Minister Theresa May stepped out onto Downing
Street on April 18 to call a snap election for June 8, no one expected it.
Since becoming prime minister in July 2016 after David Cameron’s sudden
resignation, she had made clear, on six separate occasions,
that she would not call one. It was obvious, she
insisted, that Britain’s departure from the European Union required stability,
a spell free from the demands and distractions of an election campaign when “the will of the British people”
could be fulfilled.
But
then suddenly, on that warm spring day, the reason for not calling a general
election—Brexit—became the reason for calling one. Opposing parties, she now
argued, were obstructing “the will of the British people,” a phrase she is fond
of using, and, with an unprecedented 20-point lead in the polls and popularity ratings higher than almost any prime minister before
her, it was time to annihilate the competition. It was time, that is, to “Crush
the Saboteurs,” as The Daily Mail, May’s
cheerleader-in-chief, declared on its front page. (In February, the newspaper’s
political editor, James Slack, became May’s chief of staff.) This wouldn’t be
an election to elect the next government; it would be an election to elect
Theresa May—a
“vanity election,” a “sham,” a “fake,” in the words of her
detractors, a cynical move for her to cash in her chips while she could. The
predicted majority—200 seats, by some counts—was too tempting to
turn down.
Since taking office 10 months ago, May has forged her name as a
fearsome, authoritative leader, adored by the tabloids for taking on the Brexit
beacon with glee—“Brexit means Brexit,” she famously declared. She pandered to
an older sense of British identity, played up the Margaret Thatcher comparisons, and
drove the party to the right, hoovering up UKIP support in the process. These
weren’t just tactics: the cheap xenophobia seemed to come naturally. “If you
believe you’re a citizen of the world, you’re a citizen of nowhere,” she said
to cheers. Nigel Farage and Marine Le Pen accused her of stealing their ideas. But
despite her divisive drive to cut immigration and reject any responsibility for
refugees, she was still heralded as a “unity” figure who would guide Britain
through the roiling waters of EU negotiations.
That
was the pitch, anyway, and the question for voters was simply: Who do you want
to lead the Brexit negotiations? May’s team put out a slate of slogans that
offered an easy, unthinking answer. She offered Strong
and Stable Leadership, while a government led by Labour party
leader Jeremy Corbyn would be a Coalition of Chaos. For those who thought a Corbyn
victory was impossible: We cannot be complacent. The polls have been wrong before and they could be wrong
again. Corbyn could still win. These
were the instructions, the party lines to be repeated ad
infinitum, ritual-like, like a rain dance with the promise of
electoral nirvana.
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