Nadhim Zahawi was born in Baghdad in June 1967. When he was 11 his family fled Iraq to escape Saddam Hussein’s regime. They settled in London, where Zahawi then went to university, obtaining a degree in chemical engineering from University College London in 1988.
A successful career in business followed, including setting up of YouGov in 2000. He was CEO at the company from 2005 to 2010, before becoming Conservative MP for Stratford-upon-Avon, then a member of the Number 10 policy unit three years later. Zahawi went on to take numerous front bench jobs, including becoming the first parliamentary under-secretary of state for Covid-19 vaccine deployment, secretary of state for education and, very briefly, chancellor of the Exchequer.
However, his time in government was dogged by numerous controversies. A report in 2013 revealed he had claimed expenses for electricity used to run the stables on his private estate. He was sacked as Conservative Party chairman in 2023 after an inquiry by the prime minister’s ethics adviser found he had failed to disclose that HMRC was investigating his tax affairs – for which he received a hefty fine upon settlement.
Speaking to the Big Issue for his Letter to My Younger Self, Nadhim Zahawi reflects on a past on which he freely admits could have seen his life move in a vastly different direction.
I arrived in England aged 12 and the big question in my head was, why were we having to do this? By that age, I was building emotional relationships with friends in Baghdad. Although I understood why my dad had to flee [he was tipped off that he was no longer safe under Saddam Hussein’s rule], it was hard to reconcile being wrenched away. It was a time of sadness and heartbreak. England was grey skies and cold. I remember my sister and I slipping on the icy pavement walking to school in Holland Park. We spoke little English and when you can’t communicate you get even more frustrated.
You cry at night. You think, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to survive. But one great thing about children, especially going through trauma, is that they very quickly adapt. Within months, I’d learnt the language, with the aid of the red tops. I tried reading broadsheet newspapers and couldn’t understand a word, but The Sun was much easier. So I’d read Dear Deirdre.
If I could whisper into the ear of that young boy arriving in England, I’d say you’re the luckiest little boy on Earth. My cousin, who’s only a few years older than me, ended up on the front line in the first war Saddam Hussein launched against Iran in the 1980s. He was taken prisoner for 12 years, away from his wife and two children. And that could have easily been me. That little boy, if he hadn’t left, would have been on the front line and had a very different outcome.
2010: Nadhim Zahawi at the Conservative Party conference in Birmingham with then-PM David Cameron. Image: Bruce Adams/ANL/Shutterstock
I sometimes feel like an imposter because I don’t have the typical refugee story. Although my dad did arrive here with £50 in his pocket, he also had a Rolodex with great contacts and a family with great history in Iraq. When I get an Uber, I chat to people who were doctors, pharmacists, engineers in their country and were wrenched away from their life, came to our country and took on jobs they wouldn’t do in their country to try to survive and thrive. It’s worth all of us pausing when we talk about migration or different communities. If you had to make that journey, I think you’re worth listening to.
The hostile environment thing was a mistake. Let’s have a debate about what kind of immigration we need for our country. Where do we want more migrant labour? How do we challenge employers, businesses, education institutions to do better at upskilling and reskilling people? We need a grown-up, cross-party debate about what the future of the UK looks like as a nation, assimilated, brought together by shared values – because my parents’ values are no different to your parents’ values. Otherwise, you get into a world where very potent, simple, populist sloganeering poisons the well of goodwill this nation has. And I’m convinced this is the best-willed nation in the world.
I had very little interest in politics at 16. One of my big passions was show jumping. I was convinced I didn’t need to go to university, I could earn a living training horses – for which I got a clip around the ear and told, go and work hard, go to university and then you can do your own show jumping yard if you really want to. I would characterise my younger self as someone with a lot of passion who could easily get misguided. Through sheer good fortune, that energy was channelled in the right direction. It could have easily gone to a very different place.
I was also a football fan – still am – and my first experiences were in the middle of the football hooliganism period. I got in with a bunch of friends who would spend most Saturdays organising fights. And it became even more exciting because the tabloids took an interest. The glamour of making it into a newspaper was part of that other world. I remember a Southampton vs Liverpool FA Cup semi-final at White Hart Lane [in 1986], which was when I faced real danger and felt this is not for me. And thank goodness. It was a real sliding doors moment.
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My younger self was mischievous and sort of goofy. I was this brown boy with big, curly hair and had worked out that, actually, this place England is great and there are fun things to do. I got into the rave scene, which was another mad adventure. At the same time, there were opportunities. Lots of people wanting to help if you shared your hopes, aspirations or fears. So I would tell my younger self don’t throw it away by too much partying and alcohol. Good things are about to happen.
That 16-year-old, or close to, fell in love with a girl that didn’t give him the time of day. But she eventually ended up becoming his wife. So in those moments of despair, when he may have made a bad call and done something really stupid, I would tell him to keep going. You’ll get there in the end and win her heart, my boy.
2021: Nadhim Zahawi getting his Covid-19 vaccination in London. Image: PA Images / Alamy Stock Photo
Another sliding doors moment concerns my best friend. He ended up not getting any O levels, dropping out and falling into heroin addiction and homelessness. It just drove home to me how fragile life can be. The line between being on the street and being Second Lord of the Treasury is a very, very, very slim, fine line.
My mother’s great dream was for me to be a doctor. She came from a family of seven siblings who are all doctors, dentists – she’s a dentist – or biochemists. I got an internship to Kingston Hospital to work as an orderly… and quickly worked out I didn’t want to be a doctor. When my grades came through, I didn’t make the grade. So I had to go through clearing and my sister got me a place, bless her, at UCL to do chemical engineering. It pleased the parents. Because, for the son of immigrants, you’re either an engineer or a doctor and everything else doesn’t count. I know that’s a caricature, but it was close to the truth.
A big thing I took from my mother is that if we all sit down around the table and talk about it, we can solve most things. It’s been a real help in my family life. Because nothing is as bad as it seems in the moment. Don’t keep it all inside, because sometimes we all need help. When you look back, you will not just feel better, but the outcome will be better. That would be a takeaway in business and politics as well. During lockdown, I worked with Andy Burnham and Sadiq Khan, the SNP in Scotland and Labour in Wales, and we did the most incredible work protecting the nation by getting around the table. I treated them like adults and we treated the nation like adults and it worked. We need more of that in politics – and that all came from my mum.
The Conservative Party formed a circular firing squad. When we started referring to ourselves – proudly, though I didn’t think it was anything to be proud about – as the ‘Five Families’, what did we think people reading your magazine or going through real hardship would think about that? We’re meant to be the party of government not some mafiosi.
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2022: Nadhim Zahawi visiting a Holiday Activities and Food club in Sydenham, south-east London while Chancellor of the Exchequer. Image: PA Images / Alamy Stock Photo
My younger self would think I am uncool. He’d take the piss out of me and say, ‘You ended up doing what!?’ But I’d tell him it’s a pretty cool job. Knowing he was able to found YouGov, a business that employed thousands and became a unicorn [a start-up company with a valuation over $1bn] would be exciting. And I’d tell him the best bit of becoming a member of parliament is not the high office you hold but the Friday afternoon surgery back in the constituency. People who’ve tried to help themselves but come up against the dead hand of bureaucracy or brick wall of institutions put on their Sunday best to come and see their MP and half the time you can solve their problem. I’d tell that young man that you come out the other end feeling quite good about yourself.
The only way to cope with failure is to own it. I took some decisions that were bad. I should have been much more explicit when I declared I’d had a settlement with HMRC – I didn’t declare that I’d had to pay a fine [of approx. £1.1m on top of £3.7m in unpaid taxes] and I wasn’t explicit on my ministerial declarations. The Nolan Principles in public life are important. It says ministers should be held to a higher standard, which is why Rishi [Sunak] asked me to leave government. You have to own your mistakes.
My one regret is that I couldn’t help my old best friend. I’d tell my younger self, don’t let him go off the rails – take him with you on the journey you go on. Make him believe life could be so much better. He was a huge talent. I’d say to him, you have so much to offer the world. I would have probably had to almost get into a physical fight to stop him taking drugs. And I wish I had – I wish I hadn’t just gone along with it.
I look at life in decade chunks. I had a decade at YouGov, more than a decade in politics, and hope I’ve got another couple of decades in me before they put me out to grass.
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