Three years ago, I found myself sitting opposite Danny Alexander at a small dinner party thrown by a mutual friend. He was there with his wife Rebecca and their ten-week-old baby. I remember being more impressed by her postnatal figure and the long-distance run she was planning than her tall ginger-haired husband.
At the time, Alexander was as politically irrelevant as any other Lib Dem MP – bright and well meaning, sure, but as good as invisible in the brutal hierarchy of the Westminster village. Fast-forward to Autumn 2010, and I am once again sitting opposite Alexander making polite conversation – this time in HM Treasury. He is now Chief Secretary to the Treasury, and one of the most powerful figures in Britain. In his hands rests the future of our public services, and the fate of millions of jobs. So how did he get there?
Partly it is luck. He was not, after all, Nick Clegg's first choice for the job, arriving by emergency parachute after the sudden departure of David Laws. His initial government role, Scottish Secretary, was a more natural first appointment given his relative inexperience.
Partly it’s paucity of competition. There are only 57 Lib Dem MPs, and they command five cabinet posts, giving each an enviable 1/11 chance of finding themselves at the top table. Coalition has transformed them as a group, from idealists working for a glorified pressure group to genuine instruments of political change, with influence wildly disproportionate to their parliamentary numbers.
Yet this is to do Alexander a disservice. He got the job because he is supremely bright (he studied Philosophy, Politics and Economics at Oxford) and extremely close to Clegg, whom he first met when working for various European pressure groups while Clegg was an MEP. He became MP for Inverness, Nairn, Badendoch and Strathspey in 2005, later orchestrating Clegg’s leadership campaign and becoming his chief of staff.
Their relationship is central to Alexander’s subsequent meteoric rise. Clegg trusts him implicitly and came to rely on his clear-headed judgement and political instincts. Importantly, Alexander is also highly respected among the Lib Dem grandees to whom Clegg turns for advice, including his mentor, Paddy Ashdown.
Hence he was a key member of the Lib Dem negotiating team following the hung parliament. After co-ordinating the preparation of the party’s election manifesto, he had spent many weeks quietly preparing for such a scenario. His admirers credit his groundwork and wily negotiating skills for the many concessions the party secured from the Conservatives.
Rob Wilson's recently published book on the forming of the coalition, Five Days to Power, offers an intriguing insight into Alexander's character, with the revelation that Alexander was secretly ready to contemplate ditching the party’s flagship pledge on tuition fees two months before the general election, if that proved to be the price for power. Evidently that soft Scots brogue and boyish, freckled face mask ruthless ambition.
Like Cable and Clegg, Alexander will have no choice this week but to vote for the tuition fee rise he helped the Business Secretary draw up. He has described the situation as “not ideal at all”, but having played a critical role in determining where the axe will fall on public services in the Comprehensive Spending Review, the truth is that he is now quite hardened to making uncomfortable decisions. Like his Cabinet colleagues, he has convinced himself that this is the price of power, and that it can be justified to his own party and to voters more widely on the basis that the dire economic conditions and new ‘coalition politics’ mean pragmatism must now come before idealism. So at ease does he seem with policies that would have been political anathema less than a year ago that at a recent appearance before the Commons Treasury select committee, one MP remarked: “You sound rather conservative. Small 'c’.”
Alexander, who grew up on Colonsay, a remote Hebridean island, is just 38, and looks younger. His red hair, accent and previous obscurity make him an easy target for those who struggle to imagine that a lanky Highlander who was once chief press officer for the Cairngorms National Park could possibly be qualified for one of the highest offices of state. It is not surprising that he attracts jealousy among the Lib Dem long marchers who have never experienced the glory of a ministerial car. It has required quite a psychological leap for Westminster's snobby political elite to take him seriously.
Tucked away in the Treasury, where George Osborne is front man, Alexander's role is low visibility. That suits Alexander, who is neither a relaxed or natural media performer at this stage. The lack of exposure means he is still something of a political enigma. He is certainly on the left wing of his party – a staunchly pro-European social democrat in the Charles Kennedy mould, rather than an Orange Booker – but it’s not yet clear what really drives him.
For now, his importance hinges on his close relationship with Clegg. Despite his Treasury responsibilities, he is at the heart of the Lib Dem coalition operation, counselling the Deputy Prime Minister on every key decision. But note how few people are sniggering at him now.
