Jack Straw: Prescott had a wariness towards people like Blair and me

When I think of John Prescott, a smile comes to my face. I remember a man who, in the cabinet, would frequently puncture pomposity – who, during inevitably difficult discussions, could cut through any dark atmosphere with a comment that would leave everyone else laughing. He was kind and unwaveringly loyal. But I also remember John as somebody who had an unerring political instinct; a towering figure who changed the course of Labour, and reached parts of the party which others simply couldn’t.
John was often underestimated, but he recognised the strength that he had within the movement, and he worked for a stable Labour government his entire life.
For the duration, he suffered snobbery and condescension. His early life tells a story about the educational apartheid that arose as a result of the 11-plus, which he didn’t pass; like so many others he was segregated at an early age from good education, in a system that failed to take into account potential.
Happily, he managed by force of his character to break through those barriers. In fact, he was quite a remarkable political figure from an early age. He first came to prominence in 1966, during the National Union of Seaman strike.
At the time, Sterling and the entire economy depended on the balance of payments on our exports; they were demanding a fairer 40-hour week and a pay rise. Then-prime minister Harold Wilson dismissed unionists as “a tightly-knit group of politically motivated men” who were determined to disrupt the government. Wilson was alarmed by the damage that this – with John in the middle – could do.
It was these grassroots that anchored his role in the New Labour Party. The party didn’t want another southern lawyer, and John had a complementary background and complementary skills to Tony Blair. That’s what made their leadership so strong. John never really expressed it, but he had a slight wariness towards people like Tony, and others like Peter Mandelson – and indeed me – who he thought came from a completely different background.
But one of his crucial roles was to take Tony on, to challenge him. And he was able. He was elected in his own right as deputy leader in 1994, and he had an autonomy that wasn’t even available to those of us who felt very secure in our roles.
Notably, he was instrumental in rewriting Clause 4, which, in 1995, changed the statement of the Labour Party’s principles and terms. This played a critical part in Tony’s future leadership. And, while John would be the first to admit he often mangled the English language – his dyslexia was apparent in his syntax – make no mistake he commanded a room nonetheless. He was also the one to coin the phrase that would become a key mantra for the party: “Traditional values in a modern setting.”
I didn’t have a particularly close relationship with him, but we got on well, as he did with most. During the early days, when we were in opposition, we had some fun – I remember John and his staff who would organise nights on what we called the “Ship of Shame”. It was one of those boats which went up the Thames and back again, and had a bar and music on it. Those nights were only once or twice a year or so, but they were memorable nonetheless.
Of course, he’ll always be remembered for that punch. Perhaps it made him memorable for the wrong reasons, on the surface. But to me, it only revealed more of the strong connection he had with the public.
I’ll never forget the day it happened: I had been up to Blackpool to make a speech to the Police Federation. I thought I was being very nice, telling them all about the extra money they were going to get, but, it turned out to be a disaster and I was treated to a slow hand clap. On the train home I thought, God knows what this will do for my political future, but about halfway through the journey, my special advisor, Ed, said, “It’s OK Jack, you’re in the clear. Prescott just hit a voter.”
What happened next was quite extraordinary. Despite the fact that you can clearly see this chap he punched was behaving very badly, if anyone else had done that, it would have been the end of their ministerial career.
Tony set the tone when asked what he thought of it. He said, “Well, John Prescott is John Prescott.” And the public took that view, too. Between us, it became a bit of a joke, a gentle teasing. But it showed the connection and respect that John invoked.
Would John be elected as a politician now? Interestingly, I think he would, though the only real equivalent at a senior position in politics today is Angela Rayner. Her background is very different from John’s, but they both overcame adversity and started in the Union movement.
Like Rayner, he suffered prejudice over his northern accent; his wife, Pauline, who was quite a character herself, was also criticised for her big, dark beehive hair which had gone out of fashion in the south. It was snobbery, plain and simple, but John didn’t seem to care too much.
In later years, John was known as the “marriage counsellor” of the party. He stood for fairness, he smoothed over fractious relationships – particularly between Tony and Gordon Brown, both of whom he had a good connection with, towards the end of the government. At the time when international politics became overwhelmingly prominent – following 9/11, Afghanistan and Iraq – was unbelievably loyal.
He may well have had reservations about the decisions being made back then, and he could have made life almost impossible for Tony. But if he did he never expressed them in public. More than anything he believed in a stable, strong Labour Party – for the many, and for the greater good. And that pretty much sums him up.