Phillip Isakpa
It is a little while since I reflected on the political scene in Britain, although, at the height of the MPs’ expenses affair I did ask briefly, not without cynicism, the question: What price the Westminster model? In its own way it has been fascinating, especially for those preoccupied with the minutiae of the political undergrowth, the strongest result of which has been to increase public contempt for all politicians. Although some of the heat has gone out of expenses-gate with the resignation of the Speaker of the House of Commons, and the bizarre slow-motion cabinet reshuffle coinciding with the botched plot of the Blair babes’, there is still evidence that the collective nervous breakdown of the political class is continuing. The public has been intrigued by details of draining moats, duck-houses and trouser-presses, and shocked by evidence of flipping (a neologism that describes profiteering from switching second homes), but nothing has undermined confidence in the reputation of parliamentarians more than what has been described as redaction.
We are getting used to a whole new glossary of Orwellian euphemisms and weasel words such as extraordinary rendition (illegal moving of political prisoners to permit detention in countries that practice torture) and quantitative easing (governments printing money). Indeed, I increasingly delight in reading word-analysts like William Safire of The New York Times who would have a field day with redaction. My dictionary says simply it means preparation for publication, from the Latin root redactio, (which is why it is used much more in French, where a newspaper editor is a Redacteur-en-Chef). Redaction was used by officials of the House of Commons to describe the publication of the full list of members’ expenses, with a lot of information blacked out. The explanation was that certain details, such as addresses and phone numbers could not be made available for security reasons. Apart from the fact that MPs’ addresses are quite easy to obtain by those who are intent on getting them, not to publish them only meant that evidence of flipping could not be checked and increased public suspicion that all was not well, and that there were secrets still to hide which parliamentarians collectively had previously owever, to co
done everything they could to avoid putting in the public arena. Thus the innocuous redaction came to look like state censorship worthy of the Stasi in its prime. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot!
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Hanging like a grey shadow over this whole fiasco is British Prime Minister Gordon Brown, an anguished tragic figure. It is hard to remember a public personality being swamped with so much abuse, much of it of a humiliating personal kind. Though I can see that having been in charge of the economy in the good times, some of the mud from the downturn will inevitably stick on him, but it is still hard to understand vicious hatred of a kind that used to be reserved for socialists who had offended the right, not a description of Gordon. He certainly has some difficulty in making decisions, tending to brood over issues, a characteristic that often goes with intellectuals in politics. But he has considerable mastery over his subject-matter. It is said that he is a voracious worker, possibly to the point of not relaxing enough. Even kind commentators see his attacks of indecision as reminiscent of Shakespeare’s Prince Hamlet. But they forget that the denouement of Hamlet is a riot of decision-making, in which, as the song-writer observed everyone ends as mincemeat. The main deficiency, however, that is laid on him, is his lack of presentational skills, including, significantly, his use of language.
In this he is contrasted unfavourably with his predecessor Tony Blair, ever the slick showman. This to me is actually an advantage, as by the time her left power Blair had exhausted all favourable opinions, and his word-spinning skills had become shop-soiled. It is true that Brown had complicity in the great Iraq war hoax, but one still has a feeling that he has a more moral view of politics than Blair. This is despite the fact that, in desperation, Brown brought back to the heart of government his old enemy, the sinister Peter Mandelson, the prince of darkness casting his Rasputin cloak over the land, and now perceived as responsible for all Brown’s moves. I also have personal sympathy for Brown as the first historian to occupy Downing Street for a very long time. Blair was a lawyer who cared nothing for history and told the US Congress that history has no lessons to offer. There is much evidence to suggest that the steady commitment of New Labour to prioritising aid to developing countries would not have gained so much ground if Brown as Chancellor had not been there to back up the commitment with funds, to the point that the matter is now ring-fenced by all political parties (for how long, I wonder?)
