Dominic Cummings is set to leave his position at the heart of Downing Street, but his swift rise to power and steady fall from grace marks one of the most incredible stories in British political history.
Friends and allies regard him — and he regards himself — as a maverick and visionary. Yet the man David Cameron once described as a “career psychopath” also accumulated a growing number of detractors and enemies during his time as Boris Johnson’s senior adviser.
One senior Downing Street official said that Mr Cummings would be “out of government” by Christmas — telling the BBC’s Laura Kuenssberg that he had “jumped because otherwise he would be pushed soon”.
Many Labour and Conservative MPs are delighted to see him go. “Dominic Cummings has been one of the most malign influences on the British government in modern history,” said shadow justice secretary David Lammy. “His legacy is one of bullying, deception, hypocrisy and hubris.”
Transport secretary Grant Shapps offered only begrudging praise on Friday morning, saying simply that “advisers come and go”. One unnamed Tory minister described his exit as “a lovely Christmas present”.
So how did this highly-unusual schemer — the farm-owning, gilet-wearing guerrilla insurgent who thought he could bring down the British establishment — assume such a key role at the heart of power? And what sort of agenda will replace the one-man movement at No 10 after he leaves?
Prior to masterminding the 2016 Brexit referendum vote, Cummings cut his teeth on the fringes of Tory party politics by working for the campaign against the UK joining the Euro. He then rose to prominence as Michael Gove’s special adviser at the Department for Education — where he railed against the civil service “blob”.
Having forged his reputation as a brilliant strategist on the successful Vote Leave campaign, he was able to bring a team of committed Brussels-haters with him to No 10 when Mr Johnson won power on a promise of getting Brexit done.
Despite the election success of December 2019 (the PM singled out his adviser for special praise in his victory speech) Mr Cummings had become a figure of hate for many Tory backbenchers. They never forgot the fact he described some of them as “thick” and “lazy”.
By the beginning of 2020 he had become a cartoonish public figure, having scorned Westminster’s accepted dress code with his low-slung jeans and scruffy jumpers.
Despite co-owning a farm, he took immense relish in awarding himself anti-establishment status, once telling reporters: “You guys should get outside London and talk to people who are not rich Remainers”.
It was his lockdown adventures in the working-class badlands of County Durham — the eyesight test trip to Barnard Castle in April — which gained him true notoriety. Many Tories felt Mr Johnson’s failure to sack his strategist then was the moment public faith in the government’s handling of the pandemic began to ebb away.
Reports suggest it was Mr Cummings’ efforts to secure ongoing influence by appointing one of his own aides — Lee Cain or Cleo Watson — as chief of staff at Downing Street that proved his final undoing. Mr Johnson’s fiancée Carrie Symonds is thought to have pushed hard against the move, viewing the arrival of Allegra Stratton as the government’s on-air spokesperson as a chance to create a new power base at No 10.
It might be an easier task if several of Mr Cummings’ aides decide to leave too. Ms Watson, Brexit adviser Oliver Lewis and data guru Ben Warner are reportedly considering whether they will follow their mentor and Mr Cain out the door at the end of 2020.
Tory backbenchers told The Independent that the exit of Vote Leave figures was Mr Johnson’s one big chance to reshape his administration. One MP said the PM would finally have to listen to people outside “the Take Back Control boy band”.
Ms Stratton and No 10 policy chief Munira Mirza are said to be keen he help Mr Johnson “soften” the government’s image, repair some of the damage with Tory backbenchers and promote the green agenda.
Could the new softly-softly approach extend to the civil service? Like all egomaniacs, Mr Cummings saw his time at Downing Street as the chance to reshape the system in his own image.
Yet he doesn’t appear to have done much other than create a “Nasa-style” mission control hub for senior aides — amounting to a slight change in office layout.
It remains to be seen whether his legacy will extend beyond his undoubtedly major influence during the Brexit wars, and the minor rearrangement of Downing Street desks.