AN old politician once said that all MPs were either bookies or bishops. I prefer to think of them as plodders or plotters. There certainly seems to be something in the Westminster air that brings out the conspirator in people. Perhaps it’s the ghost of Guy Fawkes still rattling around in the cellars.
The aim of the Gunpowder Plot was the elimination of a rather dour and unpopular ruler from north of the border; which brings us rather nicely to the events, or rather nonevents, of this week.
Geoff Hoon and Patricia Hewitt won’t meet the grisly end that befell unsuccessful rebels in the 17th Century. Maybe the cold shoulder in the Commons Tea Room, or some awkward altercations in their constituencies. All in all, not as bad as being chopped into pieces and having your head stuck on a flagpole.
But, like Guy Fawkes, they are learning the hard lesson that if you want to topple a king, you have to get your timing right.
I don’t think this particular plot had much chance of succeeding. Hoon and Hewitt are not exactly high-profile politicians; more the sort who aren’t even household names in their own homes. And while secrecy is a prerequisite of a successful conspiracy, they do seem to have overdone the cloak-and-dagger stuff. Apparently, even their likely allies didn’t know what they were going to do.
What interests me about all the nonsense that filled yesterday’s papers is how it illustrates the huge gap that still exists between politicians and ordinary, sensible people.
Ask inhabitants of the real world what really matters, what’s important. If we’re honest, the answers will be simple. Your job and those of friends and neighbours, crime and community safety, the local environment and, over the past few weeks, the state of our roads and pavements. Ask the same of a highranking politician and, if they were honest – I appreciate this is a debate in itself – the answer, I suspect, would be “Me”.
I don’t know what make them like this.
Every day, I work with people from the mainstream political parties at our modest local level. Generally, they are reasonable, conscientious, well-meaning folk. Their interest in politics is part of a wider involvement in public or civic activity, such as working for community and voluntary groups, serving as a magistrate or fulfilling some other socially useful role. In other words, they are normal, balanced people.
What turns someone like this into the selfobsessed, blinkered caricatures we often see strutting the national stage is difficult to understand.
It’s akin to the process that transforms a cheery 12-year-old overnight into a turbulent teenager at odds with the world.
But politicians don’t have the excuse of adolescent hormones for their immaturity.
It isn’t as if we ask much of politicians either.
We don’t want or need them to micromanage our lives. We aren’t really interested which X Factor nonentity they’ve taken a shine to. We want them to create a broad framework of policies which allow our country to function with reasonable efficiency.
That’s all.
The function of government, whether local or national, should be to devolve as much power to people to run their own lives and communities. Because, quite frankly, they are better at it than the politicians and should be left to get on with the job.
The real mistake hapless Hoon and Hewitt made was to think they were far more important than they actually are. Let’s hope all their colleagues learn a lesson from them.
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