O
n Monday 3 February at 2.15pm, 17
political journalists filed into the marble-
tiled hallway of Number Ten Downing
Street. The prime minister’s press team had
called a briefing on his Brexit plans – but
had only invited half of those who had turned
up. All were members of the Lobby, an institu-
tion dating back to the 1920s, which operates
on the long-standing principle that anyone in
it has the right to be present at official brief-
ings. The 17 argued that none of them should
be excluded. Number Ten stood firm. In a heated
standoff Lee Cain, the Downing Street director
of communications, faced down a barrage of
questions, insisting Number Ten was free to brief
who it pleased. “His voice was raised. He looked
very agitated,” according to one attendee. Cain
walked off and the Lobby walked out.
It was the culmination of many months of
run-ins between Downing Street and the media,
from boycotting Radio 4’s Today programme to
threatening Channel 4’s broadcast licence.
Cain’s largely unprecedented approach has
sparked bitterness and personal resentment.
“Lee Cain is a total amateur,” says one politi-
cal editor, “being paid £140,000 of your and
my money to make political decisions. He has
never done the job. He has never been any-
where near the Lobby.” So how did he end up
being Boris Johnson’s gatekeeper and what
exactly is his game plan?
Shaven-headed and stockily built, Cain can
look forbidding – yet those who know him
paint a different picture. In general, he is “quite
quiet”, says an official from the Theresa May
era, and “discreeter” than his predecessors in
the role, whether Alastair Campbell under Tony
Blair or Craig Oliver under David Cameron.
He has a reputation for being amiable. An
ex- colleague on the Gloucestershire Citizen,
where Cain cut his teeth in journalism in 2006,
says Cain was “always quite ambitious”, but
would nevertheless write up, say, Morrisons’
opening times obligingly. While employed at
the Daily Mirror, in 2010, he agreed to dress up
as a chicken – per company practice – and tail
Cameron during the election. After leaving the
paper and doing shifts at the Sun, Cain ended
up booking guests on Russell Howard’s Good
News. He quit for a job in PR. If he was going to
be bored, a former coworker recalls, he decided
he would at least be well paid.
He emerged in the political world as head
of broadcast on the Vote Leave campaign. Its
communications director, Paul Stephenson,
had hired him through open application – “a
Insiders say Cain has two qualities that
Johnson values above all: diligence and loyalty.
Cain displayed the latter after Johnson stood
down as foreign secretary and returned to the
backbenches. A year ago, many thought his
hopes were dashed. But Cain stuck with him
and has been rewarded. His old colleagues were
stunned. “There was widespread ‘WTF’ when
we all found out Lee was at Number Ten,” says
one. Yet on the election campaign, sources say
Johnson only listened to three people: Dominic
Cummings, his chief advisor; Isaac Levido, his
campaign director; and Cain.
C
ain’s fights with the Lobby partly
reflect his focus on new forms of media.
Number Ten believes it can reach voters
more directly and memorably online. Running
a UK-wide ad on YouTube during the cam-
paign helped Number Ten to circumvent the
press. They have doubled down on video since
the election.
To Guto Harri, Johnson’s former communi-
cations director at City Hall, the antagonism is
also partly explained by the team’s background.
“[Johnson’s] operation has proved formidable
at political campaigning – from the referendum
to the party leadership and recent election –
but political campaigns tend to attract a certain
type of person: adrenaline junkies with an
almost myopic focus on a narrow goal, deeply
tribal and often hostile to people not in their
clan.” Alastair Campbell believes their attitude
will ultimately prove counterproductive. “It is
very easy to make enemies,” he says, “but they
are going to find that if they want to make real
change they will need friends.”
Number Ten is, for now, undeterred by this
battle. James Schneider, a press aide to Jeremy
Corbyn, says that Cain “understands that con-
flict and controversy is the best way to get your
message out”. Cain’s election fight with Channel
4 News, Schneider says, “turned something
that was embarrassing for the government” –
Johnson running away from scrutiny – “into
a heroic fight against C4”. That alienated their
opponents, but enlivened their supporters.
Feuding with the press may work out for
Number Ten. For now, observes Craig Oliver,
“both sides are trying to mark territory”. The
key question, Oliver says, is how much pain
Johnson is willing to accept. Some observers
think Cain is little more than Cummings’ acolyte
and that Cummings is the de facto Number Ten
press chief. In truth, Cain has Johnson’s trust
independently of Cummings, but he admires
the PM’s senior advisor and he is content to
defer to Cummings’ strategy. For now, riding
an unassailable majority, the pair are playing
by their own set of rules.
DETAILS − POLITICS
In the election, Boris
only listened to three
people: Dominic
Cummings, Isaac
Levido and Lee Cain
Out of nowhere, he’s become
Downing Street’s provocative new
gatekeeper. What’s his game plan?
Story by Harry Lambert
Lee Cain vs the political press...
WA I T,
WHO
?
bit of a punt,” he recalls – after Cain impressed
him with a slide deck and his commitment to
the mission. Yet few would have predicted his
rapid ascent. “No one had really heard of him,”
reflects a former Downing Street advisor, “until
after the Vote Leave campaign had actually
won.” Even then, he was a fourth or fifth name
on the press team. He was similarly mid- ranking
in Theresa May’s Downing Street, where he
worked briefly after the referendum. Although
he had proven competent at the Department For
Environment, Food And Rural Affairs, some at
Number Ten had concerns. “There was always a
suspicion that he was feeding stuff about May’s
Number Ten into the Vote Leave types,” says
the former advisor, “so everyone was relatively
happy when he moved over to the Foreign
Office.” There, Cain joined Johnson’s side. When
Johnson took power in July, Cain, at 37 years
old, became one of his chief lieutenants.
Lee Cain (left) has risen from a journalist
on the Gloucestershire Citizen to become
Boris Johnson’s gatekeeper
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