The Mandelson Paradox: Brilliant Strategist, Self-Sabotaging Victim
Peter Mandelson, often hailed as the UK's first true 'spin doctor', possessed one of the sharpest political minds of his generation. Yet, as detailed by Andy McSmith, who worked alongside him four decades ago, Mandelson harbored a fatal character flaw: he was a Machiavellian operator who consistently cast himself as a victim. This duality defined his tumultuous career, leading to both remarkable successes and spectacular downfalls.
The Architect of Labour's Modernisation
When Mandelson took over as Labour's director of communications on his 32nd birthday, the party was reeling from electoral catastrophe. Dominated by trade unions and perceived as outdated, Labour's strategy amounted to little more than issuing press releases. Mandelson revolutionised this approach. He understood that policy promises alone wouldn't win votes without public trust.
Under his supervision, Labour underwent a drastic visual and strategic overhaul. The party established a shadow communications agency, enlisted advertising professionals, and utilised focus groups to test messages. The iconic red flag logo was replaced with a red rose, and press conferences were staged against soft pastel backgrounds. A celebrated party political broadcast, directed by Hugh Hudson, eschewed policy details to project leader Neil Kinnock as a trustworthy figure. Mandelson's value to those he served, most notably Tony Blair, was immense, and even Keir Starmer later saw potential in him for a diplomatic role.
The Dark Side: Power Games and Paranoia
Despite his brilliance, Mandelson's flaws were evident early on. He could not resist playing power games, using his influence to undermine those who crossed him. This bred deep distrust and dislike within his own party. The late Tessa Jowell recounted an incident where, after Mandelson's election to parliament in 1992, a fellow Labour MP ostentatiously refused to sit near him, declaring loudly, "I don't want to sit next to the most hated man in the Labour party."
Rather than self-reflect, Mandelson often retreated into a victim mentality. He once declared he no longer wanted to be known as a spin doctor, but the lure of secret power always pulled him back. This paranoia extended to his dealings with the media. McSmith recalls Mandelson organising a meeting with newspaper executives to complain about coverage, becoming emotional and insulting when it didn't go his way, "sounding like a child having a tantrum because he was not getting what he wanted."
A Trail of Disastrous Associations
Mandelson's career was punctuated by scandals stemming from dubious associations with wealthy individuals. His first resignation from the cabinet involved a secret loan from a wealthy Labour MP. The second followed a favour for an Indian billionaire. He also faced criticism for holidaying on a luxury yacht owned by Russian oligarch Oleg Deripaska, now sanctioned by the UK government.
Each disaster was, in McSmith's view, Mandelson's own fault, yet he never accepted responsibility. In his 2001 re-election speech in Hartlepool, he famously declared himself "a fighter not a quitter," denouncing those who had underestimated him. The fury with which he spat out the word "quitter" revealed a man who saw himself as wronged.
The Epstein Connection and Ultimate Stupidity
The recent revelations involving Jeffrey Epstein have cast Mandelson in a particularly harsh light. Others may be shocked by his apparent lack of concern for Epstein's victims, but McSmith puzzles over how someone so intelligent could be so reckless. Mandelson allegedly lied repeatedly to secure a post as UK ambassador in Washington and left a trail of self-incriminating evidence, including emails and compromising situations, in the care of a convicted paedophile.
As McSmith notes, basic precautions for betrayal include not leaving an email trail, yet Mandelson, the so-called Prince of Darkness, ended up with police searching two of his houses. His freeloading off a manipulative sleazebag, including wandering about in his underpants in a house potentially rigged with hidden cameras, demonstrates a staggering lack of judgement.
The Real Victims
While Mandelson may currently feel sorry for himself, McSmith emphasises that he is not the victim in this story. The true victims are individuals like Virginia Giuffre and the other women and girls trafficked and abused by Epstein and his associates. Mandelson is, instead, a clumsy Machiavellian who brought disaster upon himself through a combination of arrogance, paranoia, and poor associations.
Andy McSmith, who served as Labour's chief press officer in the 1980s and spent nearly 30 years as a political journalist, concludes that there can't be much joy inside a mental world where you are always the victim of other schemers. Mandelson's legacy is thus a complex tapestry of transformative political strategy overshadowed by personal failings and scandal, a cautionary tale of brilliance undone by fatal flaws.
