As a Reputationist, with a keen interest in politics, I have been gripped to the point of obsession by the most fascinating UK election campaign in decades. Britain’s politicians of all hues, with a few notable exceptions, suffered catastrophic reputational damage as a result of the MPs expenses scandal, which broke in late spring 2009. “Ah, but the system allowed it,” they collectively cried in defence of their moat cleaning and Wisteria pruning. As a result politics as a whole was brought into disrepute and we, the politically engaged, feared ever greater animus and disconnect amongst the electorate as a result.
Indeed, when the election was finally called and I hit the phones to canvass for the Prospective Parliamentary Candidate in my constituency of Clwyd South, I was repeatedly rebuffed with “I won’t be voting for any of ‘em,” or “pah! They’re all as bad as each other.”
In the first days of the campaign I was alarmed at just how deep and raw the disenchantment was with those who were supposed to be acting in our best interests. Twelve months on and the expenses scandal remains an open wound – a running sore, ulcerated and infected, turning the voter from sceptic to septic in short shrift; attitudes poisoned by the politicians’ audacious disregard for right and for honourable.
So this election, more than any in our recent history, was an opportunity for the British electorate to punish those who cocked a snook at us – the people they were elected to serve. After all, they brought the Mother of all Parliaments – a democracy revered and copied across the world – to her knees. The expectation in early April therefore, was that voters would stay away from the polls in their droves with a turnout expected to be lower than the 61.4 in 2005. This was not apathy, as many blinkered politicians observed, more I believe an active disengagement from the process. A kind of ‘you vote if you want to, this lady’s not for voting’ protest anti-vote if you like.
Politics exposes its practitioners to reputational harm above any other profession (save footballers and ‘celebrities’ maybe…but this is a serious piece) especially against a backdrop of 24/7 broadcasting and an extraordinarily dynamic digital space. For this post I’ll exclude the print press and its lamentable Murdoch-led bias – that’s for another blog. It has its own reputational issues.
It was the much vaunted televised Leaders Debates that unexpectedly re-engaged the electorate and energised the campaign in a way that caught many activists and commentators by surprise. Personally, I found the debates sterile and flat, but the prime time exposure ignited the public’s interest – albeit largely on the superficial basis of style over substance and an absurd need to choose ‘who won’? despite the absence of any interrogation. But that’s not the point. Suddenly, we were discussing the leaders’ merits, their swagger, smile, frown, tie colour whether down the pub, in the office or at the hairdressers. Crikey, some of us even talked about their ideological and policy differences and, heaven forefend, critiqued their timing of tackling that dastardly deficit.
And the most surprising thing to emerge from these debates was the Clegg bounce in the polls. Launched into the main stage spotlight, LibDem Leader, Nick Clegg, was instantly that most beloved of British treasures - the underdog coming from behind, and was soon trending on Twitter and YouTube Susan Boyle style. But just as Subo failed to clinch the main prize so did Nick. Although to be fair, sensible observers, heck, even some Lib Dems, knew that was about as likely as snow in July. When push came to shove as those grubby, stubby pencils hovered over ballot papers nationwide guess what….his name wasn’t on there. Well, only in Sheffield Hallam.
And so here we are three days later and the UK election is, as its main players were a year earlier, mired in a reputation crisis. The chaos of voters locked out of polling stations as they closed, varying interpretations of the 10pm rule espoused by polling officers, recount refusals by returning officers, and now the greatest irony of all in the pigs ear that is our hung parliament, a ‘Kingmaker’ – who told us we were the ‘Kingmakers’ – poised to sell out on his promise of electoral reform as “an absolute precondition for renewal in this country” in return for a place at David Cameron’s wonky table.
And so the man who captivated a [proportion of the] nation on the promise of proportional representation and a new kind of politics stands today on the brink of reneging on that promise. Should he do so he will damage his own reputation and that of his party beyond repair. Worse, he will crush the embryonic faith in new politics, and a new politician, amongst a generation of bright-eyed, bushy tailed first time voters swept up by Clegg-mania and his suave promulgation of change.
As Nick Clegg prepares to climb into bed with the Tories and settle into a marriage of expediency before the markets open on Monday morning, I’m reminded of a review I read of the writer Michael Dobbs’s Urqhart trilogy To Play the King: “It felt rushed and done with little regard.”
For all the above, I doubt this most extraordinary and unpredictable of elections will be fully played out by Monday morning. I suspect too, that we’ll not know the extent of the damage to the reputation of British democracy until the next election. Now that turnout will be interesting.
Oh, and I must just tell you that Dobbs, Urqhart’s creator and best-selling author of popular political intrigue, also wrote another book with what may prove to be a spectacularly apposite title….The Betrayal.
Hubris in waiting?
