Theresa May’s legacy? Contortions of logic and tin-eared obstinacy

It’s the EU exit, stupid.

This, to paraphrase Bill Clinton, is what Theresa May’s tenure as Prime Minister has been all about. The tempestuous journey to try to get Britain out of the EU will undoubtedly be her legacy, whether she is remembered in the history books as the architect of a national disaster, or as a woman who did her best with what was always set to be an impossible job.

But the political universe doesn’t conveniently put all other issues on ice for three years just so the Prime Minister can focus on one problem. Life goes on. Things come up. Leaders have to handle them.

So aside from Brexit, what will May be remembered for? What has she actually achieved, and how did she handle the crises which landed on her governmental plate?

Let’s start with one area where she actually tried to do something meaningful: social care.

This is Britain’s ticking time bomb. Social care is already severely underfunded, and with over-65s expected to make up a quarter of the UK population by 2046, the problem is only set to grow.

At the same time, the overheating of the property market over the past few decades and the unintended consequences of financial regulation (not to mention a total failure of government housing policy) have created vast generational inequality.

Over-65s own 43 per cent of all Britain’s housing wealth, while 75 per cent is in the hands of over-50s.

May’s much-trashed social care policy, which headlined her 2017 election manifesto, would have meant home-owners using some of this wealth to pay for their own care, rather than burdening working taxpayers, many of whom can’t afford a home, with the ever-inflating bill.

It was carefully thought-through, including a provision ensuring that people wouldn’t need to sell their homes initially, with the property being sold after their death.

Of course, the announcement proved an unmitigated disaster. Branded the “dementia tax”, it is widely considered to be the single biggest issue that cost May her majority, even after it was pulled in a dramatic U-turn.

Still, it showed a desire to find a sustainable solution to one of the country’s most pressing challenges. It is a pity she did not try to revive it.

Because beyond that dubious triumph, there has been precious little from May’s tenure in the way of either vision or adaptability.

Take the second biggest crisis of her premiership after Brexit: the Windrush scandal. Last year, it emerged that a generation of Caribbean nationals who had been invited to the UK 50 years ago had been on the receiving end of the worst kind of heartless bureaucracy, as had their descendants.

Lacking proof of their right to be in the country (which had never been issued, despite their legal status), they had been swept up in the 2010 policy to create a “hostile environment” for illegal migrants.

The Home Office stuck its fingers in its ears as people who had committed no crime suffered job losses, evictions, and even (in at least 83 cases) wrongful deportation.

The architect of that policy was, of course, May herself when she was home secretary. As Prime Minister, she had the chance to apologise unequivocally for the lives that had been ruined as soon as the scandal was uncovered, and take responsibility for rectifying it.

Instead, she stayed silent, allowing her successor as home secretary, Amber Rudd, to take the fall for her.

A full six months later, May made a belated and guarded apology to the Windrush migrants, but refused to offer regret for the hostile environment policy that caused the scandal.

In fact, when it comes to immigration in general, May’s insistence to cut numbers at all costs has resulted in a policy that locks out much-needed foreign doctors and nurses and which business groups warn will devastate the economy.

We saw similar intransigence at odds with logic in the case of Billy Caldwell, the epileptic boy denied cannabis-based medicine because of the Home Office’s cruel and draconian rules on drugs.

Again, May had the opportunity to show leadership, accept both scientific developments and the national zeitgeist, and act with compassion to allow a sick child to access treatment. She refused, and if the laws on medicinal cannabis have been marginally relaxed since, that’s the work of the new home secretary Sajid Javid in opposition to her.

To give May some credit, if you don’t care about cannabis and are not at risk of deportation, Britain is doing well. The economy has grown throughout her time in office, unemployment is at historic lows, and most of the indicators used by the ONS in its wellbeing index show that life satisfaction in the UK is gradually increasing.

Perhaps for the wider population, the mess made by May of specific issues hasn’t had an impact, which is a lesson on perspective for those stuck in the Westminster bubble.

But from within that bubble, things look bleak. On Wednesday, with May facing deafening calls to resign, the official Twitter account of the UK Prime Minister tweeted a poll about plastic straws. This was likely sent out by a hapless communications officer, and reducing plastic waste is of course a serious issue.

Still, the incongruous tone fits with May’s record as a leader lacking both common sense and political acumen, wilfully misaligned to public and parliamentary currents.

That will be May’s ultimate legacy: caving when she should have stood firm, digging in her heels when she shouldn’t have, and burying her head in the sand (or straws) whenever crisis struck.

And that’s something the Prime Minister, as she heads towards the door, can’t even blame on Brexit.