Conservative leader David Cameron and
Liberal Democrats leader Nick Clegg on the steps of 10 Downing Street on
Wednesday
The symmetries are all part of their supposed political chemistry. On first glance, Cameron and Clegg are alike in so many ways, in appearance, age, height and education – and in their gestures as well.
But exactly how alike are they in reality? Throughout last week, their respective body language gave subtle, unspoken clues as to the real state of their relationship.
Prior to the press conference, the pair posed briefly on the doorstep of Downing Street – a ritual that Cameron would have almost certainly have rehearsed in his mind. He certainly had finessed that relaxed, authoritative air.
In these situations, and faced with a barrage of cameras, the winner is the person who can seem natural in what is essentially an unnatural environment. After the introductory handshake, we saw both men pat each other on the back, a signal which neuropsychologists refer to as a “parental” gesture. And what do most parents signify with this movement to their young? “I’m in charge.” It’s a status reminder, and can be especially important in the 'first among equals’ situation in which Cameron and Clegg now find themselves.
But their body language was more complex than that. Cameron patted Clegg first, who reciprocated with a pat of his own. Cameron then patted back, and Clegg did the same… before Cameron gave the assertive final pat with his right – dominant – hand as he ushered his deputy through the door. This was both a classic repeat display of courtship, and a barely concealed power struggle. Crucially, by doling out the final pat, Cameron had the last word in the vernacular.
The press conference that followed was a chance to meet the “newlyweds”. Cameron came across as more assured, more prime ministerial in his manner and delivery, making frequent references to his new partner by gesticulating towards him with his right hand. When he gives a speech, Cameron has an unconscious habit of splaying his fingers, an open-hand gesture that projects trustworthiness. This in stark contrast to the closed, clunking fist deployed by the previous resident of Number 10.
Clegg, in between looking at his notes, attempted his now-signature delivery technique of looking straight ahead. However, with his general facial expressions more subdued than usual, he glanced down more than Cameron – a sure sign of nerves. After all, he had something to be nervous and indeed embarrassed about, after being exposed earlier in the week as having been in talks on the sly with Labour – the romantic equivalent of an “ex-girlfriend” – before finally deciding to go to the altar with the Conservatives.
When Clegg spoke, it was interesting to note that Cameron orientated his entire body towards him. When we are completely at ease and interested in another person, we turn not just our head but our whole body – and often the feet – towards them.
When Cameron spoke of the challenges facing his administration, Clegg only turned his head in his direction. He also displayed a number of micro-expressions, fleeting subconscious gestures that last between three and five seconds, but which display discomfort. Clegg bit his lip on a number of occasions and touched the inside of his mouth with his tongue. This was noticeable especially when the subject of proportional representation was raised, and when it was announced that Clegg would be standing in at Prime Minister’s Questions when Cameron was otherwise engaged in “lots of foreign travel”. What could Clegg be worried about – stepping up to the mark?
There was a change in Clegg’s later demeanour. As the Prime Minister spoke, Clegg orientated his whole body and feet towards him – a noticeable shift. As the prime minister answered questions, Clegg began to give nods and respectful glances. Rather than implying complete agreement, this usually suggests something more crucial to a working relationship – deference. Clegg is acknowledging that, although he is now a powerful player, Cameron is very much the man in charge.
Perhaps the most extraordinary – and entertaining – part of the conference came in response to a journalist’s reminder that Cameron had once called Clegg “a joke”. Their playful riposte offers hope for this coalition. The mock indignation as Clegg walked away and Cameron, leaning on the lectern, urging him plaintively to “Come back!” suggests there is more than a degree of mutual liking between the two. Both felt sufficiently at ease to be playful in public with each other, and the way they both responded in jest reflects that degree of comfort. We never saw such antics with New Labour, whose ministers were never at ease with themselves, let alone with the Opposition.
There was another telling moment at the first Cabinet meeting. From the photographs, it appears that the seating plan has been carefully stage-managed, as though at a particularly prickly wedding. Clegg is positioned opposite but slightly to the right of Cameron. If Clegg had been sat directly opposite, this would have looked adversarial. Instead, squeezed in alongside some heavyweight colleagues, he barely stands out, even with his bright orange tie. With the bulk of the cabinet made up of Conservatives, Clegg is cast as the odd one out.
Also, he has been placed in Cameron’s direct line of vision next to William Hague, who is next to George Osborne – two senior figures with whom Clegg could potentially have a Princess Diana situation. With all three now vying for Dave’s attention, there might soon be four of them in that marriage.
What this picture also makes clear is that any chemistry Clegg shares is with one man – the man with whom he fixed the deal, and no other. There is no instant rapport with the rest of the Conservative cabinet. Clegg looks uncomfortable rather than animated. He keeps looking down rather than at other people in the room – showing signs of discomfort. The heavier the scrutiny, the more discomfort one feels, which might account for his sheepishness. Clegg is probably better one-to-one, which is why he shone in the leaders debates when stood in front of a passive audience and addressing a single camera lens. Here it is clear that rapport is something he cannot easily manufacture.
Compare Clegg’s stiffness in cabinet with the picture of Cameron in a high-backed armchair, taking a congratulatory phone call from President Obama, the leader with whom he is expected to have a special relationship. How nice, instead of Cameron being sat behind a desk, that he adopts a relaxed pose, his legs crossed, rather than a formal position of sitting up straight. That surely shows the measure of the man, that he is able to conduct high-level conversations in a fashion where he feels relaxed.
And yet his pensive expression betrays an imperfection. He has acquired the relaxed pose, but it doesn’t quite chime with the thoughtful, almost concerned look on his face.
As a public relations expert in a previous incarnation, Cameron will have expected a photographer to be in place to capture this momentous occasion, and he will have adopted a suitably serious expression accordingly. Similarly, he could have gone with convention and opted to take the call at a desk, like American presidents in the Oval Office. But as Cameron’s entire election campaign was predicated on it being a Time For Change, he is deliberately – if sublimanally – letting the world know that his is definitely, definitely going to be running a new type of government.
For now, we shall have to wait and see – and keep reading the signs.