The finer gradations of a reshuffle can be the source of ministerial jealousy

Who is up, who is down, who is sideways and who has got the country house? John Rentoul examines the ministerial appointments

A bit of a squeeze to fit the new team around the table (AP)

Ministerial reshuffles are raw politics, and hold a special fascination for those of us who report and comment on Westminster. Over the past few days, we have seen a prime minister possibly at the peak of his power use it ruthlessly.

Liz Truss has been built up and Rishi Sunak reminded who is boss; Michael Gove has been put in an exquisitely difficult job, charged with “levelling up” the country when no one knows what it means; and ministers have been sacked as if to encourage those who remain, telling them that loyalty is not enough: delivery is all. (This is rich coming from Boris Johnson, whose record of delivery as a minister is thin – but no one said politics was fair.)

But one of the added entertainments of reshuffles is the light they shine on the obscure corners of our constitution. The grace-and-favour houses are often a lively subplot of ministerial changes. This time it is Chevening, the country house in Kent traditionally used by the foreign secretary. When William Hague was foreign secretary, he had to share it with Nick Clegg, the deputy prime minister, so Truss will probably have to share it with Dominic Raab. With 15 bedrooms, they needn’t get in each other’s way.

My favourite bit, though, is the jostling to fit ministers around the cabinet table in No 10. The difficulty of a reshuffle can be measured in the number of supernumerary ministers who are not full members of the cabinet, but who are listed as “attending” members. Gordon Brown had 10 of these extras at one point, in addition to 23 actual cabinet ministers. Boris Johnson matched that number when he became prime minister in 2019, inviting extra ministers such as his brother Jo.

After he won the election, Johnson managed to prune the “attenders” and whittled them down to just four. Now they have been bumped up again, with Kit Malthouse, the security minister, and Michelle Donelan, the universities minister, also listed.

Below that level, the finer gradations of ministerial seniority are jealously watched by status-conscious MPs. This reshuffle involved a lot of sideways movement, from one minister of state post to another, or – the next rung down – from one parliamentary undersecretary of state (Puss) to another. Bonus points are awarded for knowing what the equivalent posts are at the Treasury.

Being the Treasury, it has to be different, so it has a chief secretary, who is sometimes a full member of cabinet and sometimes an attender. Simon Clarke, the new chief secretary, is an attender, as was Stephen Barclay – who was a full cabinet member before as Brexit secretary, and is again now as chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster. Then there is the financial secretary and the economic secretary, who are equivalent to ministers of state, and an exchequer secretary, who is the same level as a Puss.

Things are even more complicated in the whips’ office, where James Morris is the new vice chamberlain of HM Household, the fourth most senior of the House of Commons whips, and the one who is “held hostage” in Buckingham Palace during the Queen’s Speech – something to do with making sure parliament gives her back when she has finished reading it. Many congratulations to him.

Yours,

John Rentoul

Chief political commentator