Get audio access with any FP subscription.

Subscribe Now

ALREADY AN FP SUBSCRIBER? LOGIN

It was 1996, a year from the general election that would sweep Tony Blair into power. The leader of the Labour Party (rebranded New Labour) seemed to walk on water; the Conservatives didn’t dare to criticize him. Even hostile right-wing newspapers bit their lips. That millennium era for the United Kingdom will be remembered by history as a public relations triumph. Even the country acquired a new moniker: Cool Britannia. Several people were responsible for this double rebranding, but one man oversaw it all: Peter Mandelson, otherwise known as the “Prince of Darkness” or “Svengali.”

I was the chief political correspondent for the Financial Times at the time, and one moment has stayed in my memory. I was taking Mandelson out for lunch for the first time. He proceeded to tell me that I needed to show more discipline in my writing. I reminded him I’d just spent time in East Germany and the Soviet Union. I sought to divert his attention by inviting him to gossip, which he duly did. He ran through the plusses and minuses of prospective Labour members of Parliament (MPs). About one whom I considered among the most talented, he proffered: “He thinks too much.”

It was 1996, a year from the general election that would sweep Tony Blair into power. The leader of the Labour Party (rebranded New Labour) seemed to walk on water; the Conservatives didn’t dare to criticize him. Even hostile right-wing newspapers bit their lips. That millennium era for the United Kingdom will be remembered by history as a public relations triumph. Even the country acquired a new moniker: Cool Britannia. Several people were responsible for this double rebranding, but one man oversaw it all: Peter Mandelson, otherwise known as the “Prince of Darkness” or “Svengali.”

I was the chief political correspondent for the Financial Times at the time, and one moment has stayed in my memory. I was taking Mandelson out for lunch for the first time. He proceeded to tell me that I needed to show more discipline in my writing. I reminded him I’d just spent time in East Germany and the Soviet Union. I sought to divert his attention by inviting him to gossip, which he duly did. He ran through the plusses and minuses of prospective Labour members of Parliament (MPs). About one whom I considered among the most talented, he proffered: “He thinks too much.”

Watching Mandelson’s demise of the past few weeks, I’ve turned over in my head our various interactions. On one occasion, he described a veteran commentator—who was reluctant to toe his preferred line—as a “has-been” and suggested he would “have words” with his editor. After I moved to the BBC, I had........

© Foreign Policy