US vice-president JD Vance is technically on holiday. But he is spiritually on a grand diplomatic mission: to patch up relations with British Labour, and to spread Maga cheer deep into the right. First, he spent a few days at the Chevening estate with foreign secretary David Lammy – the pair were photographed fishing together. And then to the Cotswolds, where he met Nigel Farage for breakfast and Tory leadership hopeful Robert Jenrick. Kemi Badenoch’s team say she didn’t have time to meet the vice-president. Cynics among us might suggest she was never invited.
Vance and his friends have been full of criticism of Britain, as of late. At the Munich security conference in February Vance chastised the European Union, singling out his German hosts: free speech was in retreat and there was a conspicuous backslide on basic rights. Meanwhile, Elon Musk looked upon the rioting of last summer and declared civil war “inevitable”. A report published on Tuesday by the US state department stated: “The human rights situation worsened in the United Kingdom during the year.” A sojourn around the Cotswolds – with its rolling hills and pale limestone hamlets – might disabuse Vance of his worst suspicions about the country. Perhaps that is the point.
But none of this sounds much like a holiday, does it? Diplomatic overtures and photo ops with the foreign secretary? Breakfast with Farage? Reconciling your chosen destination with your serious criticisms of the nation? Vance does not need me to patronise him. But, between shouting matches in the White House with Volodymyr Zelenskiy and stage-managing Donald Trump’s general erraticism, does the vice-president not deserve a real break – uninfected by the presence of Reform UK?
Since it is August and there is little else to do I have had the time to think long and hard about how politicians holiday. Most of them do it badly. Here is my advice for them on how to do it better.
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First, the destination is crucial. And the decision is not not just about what you like but how you look. New Labour politicians were obsessed with Chianti in the 2000s – half of them decamped to the spruced-up rubblestone converted farm houses dotted between Florence and Siena for the entire month of August. I suspect the locals did not like this much. But it was optically worse back at home – reinforcing the ambient sense that these cosmopolitan elitists were never true red Labour, happier to rub shoulders with Berlusconi than level with the unions. I would suggest to them that the comparatively more rustic Umbria, just a couple miles south, would have been a wiser choice.
This is a perfect time for a politician to signal some serious literary hinterland. Ditch the political biographies, avoid the low-brow crime thrillers, don’t look <i>too </i>zeitgeisty either (that Sally Rooney must stay at home)
But it can go too far the other way. The UK chancellor Rachel Reeves recently went on a camping holiday at a £49-a-night (€57) caravan park on the Kent coast. No one is under any illusions that she can afford a touch more luxury than that. Her salary is a matter of public record, of course. And she spent years working for the Bank of England. Splashing out on a hotel room with four walls and a roof is not out her reach. Man-of-the-people posturing wins over no one. Performative austerity aggravates.
So what is the Goldilocks destination? I suspect Bertie Ahern had precisely the right idea: the west of Ireland, but the really nice bits (the Parknasilla hotel in Kerry was a favourite spot of his). France works too, but stick to Brittany and stay far away from the glitz of Cannes. Umbria not Chianti, hotels not caravans. Politicians are allowed to have a nice time. But perhaps not seven-days-on-a-yacht-in-Mustique nice of a time. That’s for retirement.
Next: perhaps the most critical decision facing anyone ready to go on holiday. What are you going to read? Last summer in Portugal I read Diarmaid Ferriter’s history of modern Ireland and made a dent in Paul Bew’s Ireland: The Politics of Enmity 1789-2006. Both were very good, and dare I say enriching. But neither scream “beach read”; I should have left them at home for serious investigation in September and packed a novella instead.
This is a perfect time for a politician to signal some serious literary hinterland. Ditch the political biographies, avoid the low-brow crime thrillers, don’t look too zeitgeisty either (that Sally Rooney must stay at home). To calibrate this photo op perfectly you want to read a beloved national author (you’re a politician, you must remain patriotic) but a lesser-known work (because you’ve already read the rest, duh!). Micheál Martin should throw the latest Colm Tóibín in his carry-on, for example.
Last, do not make any rash decisions. This is a holiday, not a strategy session for your political manoeuvres come September. Theresa May planned a snap general election on a walking holiday in Wales in 2017; it was one of the most ill-conceived things she could have possibly done and totally squandered her majority and left her politically impotent. Do not do this! Any TDs sniffing around the party leadership should do this when back at home, unencumbered with the headiness of an August break. The Oireachtas will be there when you get back, and you will be better rested, better read, ready to pounce.
