Chapter 1
Power Without the Prize: The Fascinating World of Almost-Prime Ministers
Have you ever wondered what separates those who reach the pinnacle of political power from those who fall just short? In Steve Richards' captivating exploration "The Prime Ministers We Never Had," we discover that often the most qualified candidates never reach Number 10 Downing Street. From Rab Butler's masterful reforms to Jeremy Corbyn's unexpected rise, these political figures shaped Britain's landscape without ever claiming the top prize. The book has become required reading in political circles, with figures like Tony Blair admitting it changed his understanding of leadership dynamics. What makes this examination particularly fascinating is how it reveals that the very qualities that make someone appear prime ministerial-principled positions, ministerial accomplishments, and intellectual heft-can become obstacles to reaching the premiership. As we explore these political lives, we'll discover that the path to power requires more than just qualification; it demands ruthless focus, adaptability, and perfect timing.
Chapter 2
The Art of Almost: Understanding Political Near-Misses
The figures in this book form a fascinating counterpoint to Britain's actual prime ministers. Many were better qualified than those who succeeded, possessing ministerial experience, authoritative personas, and communication skills that their successful counterparts lacked. Rab Butler, Roy Jenkins, Denis Healey, Michael Heseltine, and Ken Clarke all demonstrated policy expertise and political acumen that should have propelled them to Number Ten. Yet each fell short for different reasons.
What makes these "prime ministers we never had" so compelling is that they were analyzed as intensely as actual prime ministers during their careers. At their peak, figures like Heseltine and Portillo generated more excitement than the occupants of Number Ten. Their ambitions and potential created a political soundtrack running parallel to official power. Hope drives politics, explaining why so many persist despite overwhelming pressure and disappointment.
The patterns of failure reveal deeper truths about British politics. Being seen as a future prime minister creates its own problems, as colleagues grow suspicious and resentful. Having strong principles can become a liability when parties shift direction. Most crucially, the timing must be perfect - the right crisis, the right moment of party evolution, and the right political context must align for an aspiring leader to succeed.
What emerges from these stories is that reaching the premiership requires more than qualification. It demands ruthless ambition, perfect timing, and often a willingness to compromise principles that the most admired politicians cannot stomach. The gap between capability and achievement reveals the sometimes perverse nature of political advancement in Britain's system.
Chapter 3
The Original "Best Prime Minister We Never Had": Rab Butler
Rab Butler stands as the archetypal "prime minister we never had" - a name still cited with the observation that he was "the best prime minister Britain never had." His qualifications were impeccable, with a remarkable career spanning multiple roles over decades: reforming minister, modernizing party chairman, and stand-in prime minister from the 1930s until 1964.
Butler was a master of the politically possible, an incrementalist whose 1944 Education Act established secondary education at eleven and abolished fees for state secondary schools. Through complex negotiations with religious leaders, he brought most Anglican schools into the state system while allowing some to retain autonomy - a compromise that marked a radical break with the past while having distinct limits that would persist into the twenty-first century.
As Chancellor after the Conservatives returned to power in 1951, Butler inherited significant economic challenges including a balance of payments deficit. His approach blended "realism and hope" - introducing tax cuts paid for by an excessive profits tax, accepting elements of a mixed economy while maintaining Conservative principles. This earned him the label of "Butskellism" (combining Butler and Labour's Hugh Gaitskell), though Butler was firmly center-right.
Butler's career repeatedly brought him tantalizingly close to the premiership. When Churchill suffered an unreported stroke in 1953, Butler chaired several Cabinet meetings. Later, when Anthony Eden's government collapsed during the Suez Crisis of 1956, Butler again had an opportunity. During Suez, Butler's nuanced position - privately skeptical while publicly loyal - alienated both hawks and doves. Unlike his rival Harold Macmillan, who shifted from supporting military action to opposing it with more political dexterity, Butler struggled with his complicated position as both Eden's deputy and someone with reservations about the intervention.
Following Eden's collapse during the Suez Crisis, Butler deputized as acting prime minister while struggling to balance loyalty with his own reservations. When addressing the backbench 1922 Committee, Butler expressed concerns about Suez while serving as acting PM, creating an impossible position that damaged his standing with Conservative MPs. When Eden resigned in January 1957, Butler confidently expected to succeed him, even preparing a televised address, but Macmillan prevailed with most Cabinet support. In 1963, when Macmillan resigned, Butler was passed over again in favor of Alec Douglas-Home, partly due to Macmillan's lingering resentment from a 1930s dispute over Oswald Mosley.
Butler's support for appeasement in the 1930s, his failure to deliver a compelling speech at the 1963 party conference, and his lack of ruthlessness against rivals ultimately prevented this brilliant reforming minister from reaching the premiership despite three opportunities. His story established a pattern that would repeat throughout British political history - the most qualified candidate often fails to reach the top.
Chapter 4
Roy Jenkins: The Social Democrat Visionary
Roy Jenkins uniquely was seen as a potential prime minister in two different parties - first as a Labour Cabinet minister in the 1960s and later as SDP leader in the early 1980s. Though the least tribal of potential prime ministers, he commanded his own devoted tribe of social democratic and liberal followers who yearned to see him in Number Ten.
If Wilson and Jenkins had developed a better relationship, they could have formed a potent double act - Wilson representing social conservatism of northern Labour voters and elderly Conservatives, while Jenkins spoke for metropolitan progressives. Their lack of closeness was typical; Cabinet colleagues often fumed about Wilson while serving under him, only later recognizing his skill in keeping such unruly ministers together.
As chancellor after the 1967 devaluation crisis, Jenkins pursued a disciplined path of fiscal restraint to restore economic stability. Like Gordon Brown decades later, he was a cautious social democrat who believed sustained growth required a balance of payments surplus. Jenkins implemented deflationary policies including spending cuts and tax increases to redirect resources toward exports rather than domestic consumption. Despite signs of economic stabilization by 1970, his pre-election budget remained prudent without giveaways. Though some blamed this caution for Labour's unexpected 1970 election defeat, Jenkins maintained other factors were more significant.
Despite his leadership qualities and enduring credibility, Jenkins was never as close to Number Ten as he appeared. In the late 1960s, Wilson's leadership wasn't sufficiently disastrous to justify deposing him. After Labour's 1970 election defeat, Jenkins had a slightly better opening, but Europe became his undoing. As a passionate pro-European when most Labour MPs opposed joining the Common Market, Jenkins found himself increasingly at odds with his party while Edward Heath negotiated Britain's entry. Jenkins led sixty-nine Labour MPs to vote with Heath in favor of membership while Wilson and most Labour MPs opposed it - a pivotal moment that began the schism in the Labour Party.
Jenkins had a remarkable second chance at becoming prime minister when he helped form the Social Democratic Party in 1981, becoming its first elected leader after winning the Glasgow Hillhead by-election in 1982. During the SDP-Liberal Alliance's peak popularity, with some polls showing over 50% support, Jenkins was even given the awkward title of "prime minister designate" before the 1983 election. Yet the SDP faced an impossible dilemma: to prevail electorally, it needed to destroy Labour, but Labour remained strong in its traditional heartlands. Internal tensions also plagued the party, particularly between Jenkins and David Owen over their relationship with the Liberals.
Jenkins' story illustrates how principle can become a political liability. His unwavering commitment to Europe placed him at odds with his party at crucial moments, while his intellectual approach to politics sometimes lacked the ruthlessness required to seize power. Though widely admired, Jenkins never managed to align his considerable talents with the political moment.
Chapter 5
Barbara Castle: The Pioneering Reformer
In the 1960s, Barbara Castle stood as Britain's most prominent female politician, outshining both her female and many male contemporaries. Her rising profile across three Cabinet posts under Harold Wilson's governments reflected her refusal to be merely a managerial minister. Castle combined reforming zeal with nuanced ideological conviction and a performer's flair for the political stage.
Her substantial policy achievements far outweighed those of her Conservative counterpart Margaret Thatcher before Thatcher became party leader. While Education Secretary Thatcher kept a low profile in Heath's government, Castle implemented or attempted major reforms as Minister for Overseas Development, Transport Secretary, and Employment Secretary, where she delivered the Equal Pay Act and proposed union reforms in her White Paper "In Place of Strife."
Castle's closeness to Wilson proved politically advantageous, unlike Thatcher's irritating relationship with Heath. Wilson actively promoted Castle, moving her between Cabinet posts with his characteristic restlessness. Though not a sycophant, Castle returned his loyalty with genuine affection. "Harold believed in women," she reflected. "He was always looking for ways of promoting women... Harold was a true progressive."
As Transport Secretary from 1966, Castle courageously introduced national speed limits and breathalyser tests despite fierce opposition. "My postbag was full of abusive letters," she recalled, including threats like "We'll get you yet, you old cow." Her three-year tenure proved unusually impactful for that department. Later, as First Secretary of State, she supported the Dagenham Ford women's equal pay campaign and pioneered the Equal Pay Act shortly before the 1970 election, setting a course others would follow for decades.
Castle's ideological framework defied simplistic categorization. While excited by the state's benevolent potential, she wasn't a "dewy-eyed romantic statist." She sought to modernize British Rail management and wasn't automatically sympathetic to union pay claims - a significant difference from most Labour Cabinet colleagues. As her biographer noted, "she did not come from the wing of the Labour movement which regarded the party's first task as promoting the interests of the trade union movement."
Castle's ministerial career ended when Callaghan became prime minister in 1976. Her approach to union reform was ahead of its time but politically doomed. Despite Wilson's backing, his authority had been undermined by the devaluation crisis. Castle's failure to recognize political realities reflected her sometimes brittle self-confidence.
Unlike Butler and Jenkins, Castle wasn't a patient incrementalist but preferred dramatic political moves. With 4.6 million days lost to industrial disputes in 1968, she had cause to act, but misjudged the political landscape based on her relative success with unions as Transport Secretary. Her proposals included secret ballots for strikes threatening the "national interest," government intervention in "unconstitutional" strikes, and a Commission for Industrial Relations with settlement powers.
Union leaders were outraged that a left-winger would challenge them, and most Cabinet members opposed her plans without serious reflection. Without support from the Cabinet, parliamentary party or unions, Wilson had no choice but to drop In Place of Strife. Even Michael Foot, politically distant from Callaghan, joined the opposition to Castle's reforms. Her story illustrates how being ahead of one's time can become a political liability - a pattern that would repeat with later figures like Ed Miliband.
Chapter 6
Denis Healey: The Intellectual Powerhouse
Denis Healey, Castle's Cabinet colleague from 1964 and after the February 1974 election, was viewed as a more likely prime minister than Castle. While his pugnacious vigor in making his case gave him an aura of leadership, the very qualities that made him appear leader-like would ultimately prevent him from becoming leader.
During Labour's September 1980 conference, assumptions about Healey's leadership prospects crystallized when news broke that James Callaghan would soon resign. Most shadow Cabinet members and political commentators shared this view, with one potential contender telling The Times there was "no question" Healey would be next leader.
For years, Healey had been spoken of as a future prime minister. He looked the part, possessed exceptional intellectual capacity, and enjoyed consistently high personal ratings. Clever and fun - a potent political combination - he had extensive experience as both Defence Secretary and Chancellor. Callaghan wanted Healey to succeed him, though his timing proved ill-judged, just as his earlier decision to delay the 1978 general election had been.
Healey's tenure as Defence Secretary from 1964 to 1970 established him as a formidable political force. Unlike most Labour Defence Secretaries who rarely advance further, Healey impressed the military, skeptical media, and international community with his authoritative grasp of international affairs. With Harold Wilson's Foreign Secretaries proving lacklustre or erratic, Healey shone brightly on the international stage.
Healey became shadow chancellor after Labour's 1970 election defeat, demonstrating the same mastery of economic policy as he had with defence. Following the February 1974 election, he served as chancellor in a hung parliament amid raging inflation and industrial turmoil. This was the hardest time to be chancellor - initially without a Commons majority, then with only a tiny one after October 1974, and a divided Cabinet wary of Healey's approach.
By 1980, Healey had accumulated impressive leadership credentials. His autobiography, "The Time of My Life," reveals remarkable range and depth of interests from an early age. At eighteen, he cycled through Germany, speaking German and later mastering several languages. His cultural curiosity was phenomenal - he had read great novelists, with Virginia Woolf as his literary hero, appreciated classical music, read and wrote poetry, and published a book of photography.
Healey balanced intellectual weightiness with a lightness of touch. He appeared on Bruce Forsyth's "Generation Game" dressed as Santa Claus, receiving cheers when revealed - not guaranteed for chancellors, as George Osborne's Paralympics booing would later prove. Impressionist Mike Yarwood helped humanize Healey by attributing the catchphrase "Silly Billies" to him, which Healey eventually adopted.
Despite Healey's qualifications, the assumption he would become leader overlooked Labour's intense factional fighting. At the 1980 Blackpool conference, Shirley Williams warned of a "fascism of the left," referring to Tony Benn and his supporters who were implementing sweeping internal party reforms and advocating radical policies.
The autumn 1980 leadership contest following Callaghan's resignation was Healey's best chance to become leader. Yet he lost to Michael Foot. Healey's formidable ministerial record proved both qualification and obstacle. Healey was so absorbed in policy battles that leadership ambitions rarely crossed his mind. Unlike Gordon Brown, who was equally committed to policy but obsessed with becoming prime minister, Healey found refuge in poetry, piano, and photography when away from economic management.
By 1980, Labour had been moving leftward for a decade. Healey showed little interest in party management, an unavoidable leadership qualification. Though intellectually confident and willing to argue his case ferociously, he lacked Machiavellian instincts. He remained openly disdainful of the Bennite left and failed to woo the "soft left" who were wary of Benn.
Healey's politics were difficult to pin down, making him an easier target for caricature. From 1974-1979, Healey was so consumed by economic crises that he had little time to define himself ideologically. Though once a communist at Oxford and later raising top tax rates to unprecedented levels, he couldn't step aside from crisis management to outline a coherent vision.
Despite possessing the intellect, energy, thick skin and charm to have been a formidable prime minister, Healey's path was blocked by a divided party and his own indifference to party management. He preferred confronting those he disagreed with rather than building bridges, while loyally serving leaders to his left. In doing so, he saved the party he never led but squandered his chances of becoming prime minister.
Chapter 7
Neil Kinnock: The Transformational Reformer
Neil Kinnock was at the center of more highly charged political dramas than any other prime minister Britain never had. Unlike figures like Jenkins, Healey, and Heseltine who had specific historic moments, Kinnock never got a break from political battles. From his days as a rebel MP voting against Labour governments in the mid-1970s, to challenging the Bennite left while supporting Michael Foot, to his leadership years fighting Militant Tendency, Arthur Scargill, Margaret Thatcher, and hostile newspapers, Kinnock was perpetually embattled.
His personality - energetic, charismatic, funny yet melancholic, capable of authentic anger and joyful euphoria - fueled these confrontations. Unlike most potential prime ministers in this book who served in Cabinet, Kinnock never held government office. Unlike Corbyn, he actively sought power to implement change rather than embracing protest politics.
Before becoming leader, Kinnock was a political star with media appeal that few politicians enjoyed. As shadow Education Secretary under Michael Foot, he appeared on major TV shows like Michael Parkinson and Clive James, wrote for The Sun, and packed out halls as Labour's star orator at by-elections.
After Benn lost his Bristol seat in the 1983 election, Kinnock emerged as the clear favorite to succeed Michael Foot. With Foot's blessing and strong union support, plus the newly enfranchised party members voting for the first time in a leadership contest, Kinnock's position was strong.
During the leadership campaign, Kinnock demonstrated two qualities that would define his leadership: tireless energy as he toured the country for meeting after meeting, and stark realism about Labour's challenges. Even while campaigning to win members' votes, he warned about the party's precarious future.
The miners' strike of 1984 became Kinnock's first major crisis, erupting less than a year after he became leader. Arthur Scargill called the strike without balloting NUM members, creating an agonizing dilemma for Kinnock. He couldn't side with Thatcher against the striking miners, yet despaired at Scargill's approach. Kinnock's visible torment during this period was perceived as weakness - catastrophic in the Thatcher era where appearing strong was everything.
After the miners' strike, Kinnock resolved to be seen as "strong" while reforming a deeply divided party. Some changes came quickly - almost immediately announcing Labour would no longer seek to leave the Common Market, a historic shift that made Labour pro-European just as Conservatives began moving toward Euroscepticism.
Kinnock's fundamental dilemma - changing the party while appearing prime ministerial - culminated in his 1985 conference speech attacking Militant Tendency and Liverpool City Council: "Implausible promises don't win victories... you end up in the grotesque chaos of a Labour council hiring taxis to scuttle round a city handing out redundancy notices to its own workers."
By 1987, Labour had transformed its presentation - replacing the red flag with the red rose and creating more coherent communications. Despite these advances, the Conservatives won another landslide with a majority of 102. Though disappointed, Kinnock never considered resigning.
Immediately after the 1987 defeat, Kinnock launched a policy review with clear outcomes already in mind - abandoning unilateral nuclear disarmament and adopting a more modest approach to state intervention. This proved deeply traumatic for Kinnock personally, having to renounce his passionate commitment to unilateralism and convince resistant trade union leaders to follow.
Thatcher's downfall began when she lost her political instincts after 1987. Her disastrous poll tax proved deeply unpopular even among Conservative voters, while the economy teetered toward recession. With Nigel Lawson and Geoffrey Howe resigning in succession, Labour surged in polls, giving Kinnock hope of becoming prime minister.
Yet leadership remained brutally difficult. Constant media attacks - portraying Kinnock as unintelligent, un-prime ministerial, dangerously left-wing - took their toll. Kinnock changed physically, brushing back his sparse red hair, and psychologically, suppressing his natural exuberance and wit to appear more "prime ministerial."
Kinnock took responsibility for his failure to become prime minister. By 1992, he'd lost his sense of mission as a communicator, no longer addressing the crucial "why" questions as he had in his passionate 1985 and 1987 speeches. Fearing ideological fervor, he offered technocratic reassurances instead.
His successors learned lessons from Kinnock's era - some applied to excess. Blair and Brown concluded Labour couldn't win against a hostile media, couldn't propose income tax rises, and had lost the ideological battle on nationalization. They also recognized Kinnock's fatal problem: longevity as Opposition leader. A leader gets one chance - lose an election, and you shouldn't contest another.
Chapter 8
Michael Heseltine: The Flamboyant Visionary
While still at Oxford, Michael Heseltine allegedly sketched his life plan on an envelope: millionaire by twenty-five, MP by thirty-five, minister by forty-five, and prime minister by fifty-five. Though he denied this story as "uncharacteristic" and "too cautious," it rang true, as he did achieve most milestones within that timeframe.
The contradiction between "cautious" and Heseltine's public image - grabbing the Commons mace, marching across Greenham Common in a flak jacket, storming out of Thatcher's Cabinet, challenging her leadership - reveals his complex personality. He was indeed a careful reformer who took time making moves, a patient dissenter, a cautious showman. His flamboyance gave him political fame but triggered mistrust; his incrementalism helped him carry colleagues but held him back from the top.
Unlike the "wets" in Thatcher's Cabinet who openly opposed her monetarist policies and were subsequently marginalized, Heseltine took a different, more constructive path. Rather than criticizing from the sidelines, he stayed close to the heart of government. As Environment Secretary after 1979, he persuaded Thatcher to adapt her theological inflexibility to his more interventionist crusade - a much harder task than delivering coded speeches from the backbenches.
When riots erupted across British cities in summer 1981, while Chancellor Geoffrey Howe suggested "managed decline" for struggling areas, Heseltine launched a political crusade for urban regeneration. In a near-miraculous feat of persuasion, he convinced Thatcher - at the height of her monetarist fervor - to approve additional public spending for Liverpool and other cities.
Fast-forward to November 1990: after his failed leadership challenge that nonetheless brought about Thatcher's fall, Heseltine returned to the Environment Department with the daunting task of abolishing the despised poll tax. Despite this being hardly the fulfillment of his political dreams, he accepted without fuss.
Though Heseltine never held the Treasury, Foreign Office or Home Office briefs, he made more policy impact than many who did and became better known than colleagues in senior posts. His story remains puzzling among prime ministers-who-never-were. He possessed impressive leadership qualifications: clear beliefs (fusing free markets with active state), a clearer sense of purpose than Cameron or May, compelling communication skills, and proven delivery in government.
By November 1990, Heseltine's colleagues and the media had long perceived him as resolutely ambitious - perhaps overestimating his personal ambition. This was partly his fault. Though fascinated by political projection, he wasn't always effective at projecting himself. His substantial career was punctuated by suspicious questions: "What's he up to?" - even when his moves were innocent.
Fundamentally, Heseltine was a loyalist. Though he didn't like Thatcher and viewed her less fearfully than colleagues, he served her diligently until his dramatic 1986 resignation. He was essentially a loyalist with a distinct personal mission - an awkward combination. Even when dutiful as a Cabinet minister, both Thatcher and later Major were suspicious of his intentions.
On November 14, 1990, following Geoffrey Howe's resignation speech, Heseltine declared his candidacy with a pitch aimed at the widest range of Conservative MPs. He appealed to their survival instinct by noting polls suggested he could best prevent "the ultimate calamity of a Labour government." In the first round, Thatcher won 204 votes to his 152 - respectable against a PM who'd won a landslide three years earlier, but not enough for victory.
Heseltine's final chance at premiership ended in June 1993 when he suffered a heart attack in Venice. After months of recovery, his first interview inevitably returned to the question of ambition. His evasive answer about enjoying politics while considering other options like gardening or commerce only reinforced the persistent theme of ambition.
Had Heseltine become prime minister in 1990, he might have changed British history by making the Conservatives more pro-European when Labour had already moved in that direction. His story illustrates how being perceived as too ambitious can become a political liability, even when that ambition is directed toward substantive policy goals.
Chapter 9
The Lessons of Leadership: Why Some Never Reach the Top
Having examined why none of our subjects reached the very top despite their potential, the most striking lesson is that prime ministers are far safer than they appear. Few politicians reach Number 10, and when they do, they typically survive longer than anticipated despite constant speculation about their demise. From Wilson outlasting Jenkins in the 1970s to Major surviving after Black Wednesday, prime ministers endure while their supposed replacements wait in vain.
Those who reach Number Ten possess a ruthless focus that many of our subjects lacked. Being ready to move isn't the same as making the move. Successful prime ministers approach leadership with the determination of athletes. Butler pursued reforms without calculating their impact on his leadership prospects, alienating traditional Conservatives. Castle never focused on becoming leader while pursuing her trade union reforms. Portillo grew ambivalent about winning by 2001, while Corbyn showed relief at not becoming prime minister. They simply didn't want it enough.
Our subjects were trapped by perceptions about their pasts. Corbyn faced endless questions about his 1970s and 1980s activities. Healey couldn't escape his record as chancellor, Butler was haunted by supporting appeasement, and Miliband by backing Iraq. Successful prime ministers typically have less contentious backgrounds - Blair, Brown, Thatcher, Major and Cameron all reached the top unburdened by controversial pasts. Depressingly, being an effective, courageous minister can prevent aspiring leaders from becoming prime ministers.
Being principled can be problematic for aspiring leaders. Jenkins, Heseltine and Clarke were passionate pro-Europeans when their parties moved in opposite directions. Prime ministers need flexibility with convictions - Wilson voted against joining the Common Market then advocated membership, Blair conveyed enthusiasm for the euro while "loving the pound," and Cameron removed Conservatives from European groupings while telling them to "stop banging on about Europe." The principled trio never became prime minister.
Being seen as a likely prime minister creates its own problems. Every move gets interpreted through the prism of ambition. Heseltine's conference speeches triggered leadership speculation rather than policy discussion. Portillo never recovered from the frenzy of excitement he generated among Thatcherites. It's better not to become a glittering political star before reaching leadership - the idolatry generates suspicion among colleagues who resolve to block the path.
The deepest explanation for these failures is the connection between parties and their leaders. At key moments, many subjects were at odds with their parties over urgent policies - the biggest factor blocking Butler, Jenkins, Healey, Heseltine and Clarke. The dance between parties, leaders and potential leaders is awkward but important, as leadership isn't solely about technocratic skills but involves ideological dimensions. Successful leaders either sway their parties or adapt to them - our subjects couldn't make this dance work.
What emerges from these fascinating political lives is a deeper understanding of power - how it's attained, how it's lost, and why some of the most capable figures in British political history never managed to claim the ultimate prize. Their stories reveal as much about Britain's political system as they do about the individuals themselves, offering invaluable insights into the complex interplay between personal ambition, political circumstance, and the ruthless demands of leadership.
