Newsmaker: William Hague

The British parliamentarian announced the end of his political career this week, 37 years after he first addressed the Conservative Party aged just 16 - and image of precocity that he found unable to shake off.

The resignation of William Hague from his position as the UK’s secretary of state for foreign affairs, was announced soon after 10pm on Monday.

The news came as the opening salvo in the biggest cabinet cull since David Cameron became prime minister, a reshuffle that made “male, pale and stale” Tories an endangered species on the government’s front bench.

Hague’s surprise decision to quit took the British political and media establishment entirely by surprise.

Hague, 53, will remain in the cabinet as leader of the House of Commons until the next general election, coordinating government policy and staying on as first secretary of state before standing down as MP for Richmond in North Yorkshire, next May.

Cameron described his colleague, who has served as foreign secretary since the formation of the current coalition government in 2010, as one of the Conservative Party’s “leading lights” and a “close confidante, wise counsellor and great friend”.

Hague first informed his supporters and the public of his resignation via Twitter before making a longer statement the following day.

“By the time of the general election next year, I will have served 26 years in the House of Commons and it will be 20 years since I first joined the Cabinet. In government there is a balance to strike between experience on the one hand and the need for renewal on the other, and I informed the prime minister last summer that I would not be a candidate at the next general election.”

Hague may have entered the House of Commons 26 years ago, but his political debut came in 1977 when he made a speech to the Conservative Party national conference at Blackpool. He was only 16 at the time.

“It’s all right for some of you, half of you won’t be here in 30 or 40 years’ time,” the smiling teenager said as he berated the Tory faithful in his broad Yorkshire accent. What Hague said was true, but what he couldn’t realise was that he was also predicting his own eventual demise.

This early brush with fame had also come at a price, earning Hague the nickname “Tory Boy’ and a reputation for precocity that would plague him throughout his career.

William Jefferson Hague was born in 1961 in Rotherham, a manufacturing town in the old West Riding of Yorkshire. He attended a local state school before taking a place at Magdalen College, Oxford, where he followed a well-trodden path to political office by serving as president of the Oxford Union as well as the Conservative Association.

During university holidays, Hague worked for the family business, helping to deliver soft drinks to local shops. He later recounted the experience in an interview with a men’s magazine, boasting that because he was offered a drink at every stop on the delivery route, he would sometimes drink 14 pints of beer a day. The incident became just one of the many public relations disasters that plagued his political career, earning him further nicknames such as the “14-pint-sized politico” and “Billy Liar”.

Post graduation, Hague worked as a management consultant before entering the world of politics full-time, a decision that resulted in meteoric success. An MP at the age of 26, he became a cabinet minister at 34 and was leader of the Conservative party by 36, the same year – 1997 – that he married Ffion Jenkins.

By the time he turned 40, however, Hague’s luck had turned and defeat at the 2001 general election forced him to resign from the leadership.

Four years earlier, Hague had been charged with rebuilding the party and returning it to power at a time when the success of New Labour seemed to prove that image, spin, and media control meant everything.

His leadership began with a series of publicity stunts designed to project an image of the Conservatives that was younger and more dynamic. Unfortunately, almost all were ill-advised or backfired and were widely met with derision. In one, an overdressed and awkward-looking Hague was pictured with scantily clad dancers at the Notting Hill Carnival. In another, he rode a log flume at an amusement park while wearing baseball caps embarrassingly emblazoned with his own name.

Despite winning plaudits for his performances in the House of Commons, where he often outperformed Tony Blair in open debate, Hague was soon branded as a weak and inexperienced leader.

In an attempt to change perceptions and to play New Labour at its own media-savvy game, Hague employed the journalist Amanda Platell as his new spin doctor and the former Conservative MP and Olympian Sebastian Coe as chief of staff. Hague and Coe became judo partners, sparring each morning on the crash mat and Platell’s “Project Hague” gave the leader a makeover designed to make him appear stronger and more assertive.

Neither made a difference and Hague failed to land a killer blow at the 2001 general election. The Conservatives only made a net gain of one parliamentary seat and Hague became the first Conservative leader since the early 1920s not to become prime minister.

The disaster led to Hague’s resignation and a return to the backbenches from where he launched a lucrative career as a public speaker, award-winning historical biographer and media celebrity.

Hague seemed to thrive in the political wilderness and many were surprised when, in 2005, he returned to the front line at Cameron’s request.

The circumstances of the new Conservative leader’s rise to power echoed those of Hague’s. The Tory party had suffered three consecutive defeats at the hands of New Labour and the party now looked to a young, dynamic leader to lead them back to power by “detoxifying” the Conservative brand. Cameron had the necessary charisma, but lacked Hague’s experience, especially on the international stage. Still only 44, Hague became Cameron’s de facto political deputy, serving as Shadow Foreign Secretary and senior member of the Shadow Cabinet.

With the formation of the coalition government in 2010, Hague not only led negotiations with the Liberal Democrats, but also entered the highest sphere of government as first secretary of state and secretary of state for foreign affairs.

Just as everything seemed to be going right for Hague, a scandal broke that raised damaging questions about his sexuality. It focused on Hague’s appointment of Christopher Myers as a special adviser. Not only was the 25-year-old inexperienced, but he and Hague had shared a hotel room during the election campaign. Feeling compelled to respond to rumours on the internet, Hague made an unusual public statement denying the rumours and revealing the tragedy of his wife’s repeated miscarriages. Many viewed Hague with sympathy, but his statement caused a media storm.

Setting out his vision for foreign policy in a speech in July 2010, Hague said the UK must have more “global reach and influence” or face decline in a fast-changing world, but his tenure as foreign secretary became associated with a series of crises, including the vote in parliament that prevented British intervention in Syria. Hague was caught off guard and was damaged by the experience.

Ironically, it is Hague’s most unlikely political venture that may come to define his legacy. In 2012, after watching Angelina Jolie’s film about rape camps in Bosnia, Hague launched the global Preventing Sexual Violence Initiative with the Hollywood actress. He now leaves the Foreign Office as a feted humanitarian campaigner and, thanks to one of the world’s most unlikely political double acts, has achieved a cachet that eluded him in his earlier years.

After almost nine years of globe-trotting Hague will now spend much more time in the UK. His key role will be reaching out to voters in the North of England and acting as Cameron’s electoral vizier.

The Guardian's Michael White recently recounted an anecdote about a meeting between the Queen Mother and Judy Garland at the London Palladium at which the Queen Mother told the singer that Somewhere Over the Rainbow always brought tears to her eyes. Garland is said to have replied: "Ma'am, that song ruined my life." White's point is that Hague's career never really recovered from that first party political debut and, in many ways, he is right.

Hague has experienced the extremes of public life, but he must now hope that he has embarked on his final party political performance, a final act before life beyond the political rainbow can finally begin.

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