ANOTHER VOICE
Sometimes you've just got to ignore your own prejudices
MATTHEW PARRIS
It's always the same. It was the same when Dominic Lawson edited this maga- zine, the same when Frank Johnson was editor, and it has been the same with Boris. We, the judges of the Highland Park/Spec- tator Parliamentarian of the Year awards, gather before lunch with the editor in his office overlooking Doughty Street, pour ourselves a glass of champagne,stare gloomily out of the window, and begin the traditional versicles and responses: `God, what an awful year.'
`Can't think of anyone, can you?' `Not one. Even the Lords have gone flat.' I mean, can you remember a single speech?'
`Or even an interesting question?' `There hasn't been a debate worthy of mention.'
`Why don't we just not have a Parlia- mentarian of the Year award this year, and describe it as the judges' protest against declining standards of oratory and inquisition?'
All the judges: 'What a brilliant idea! Free lunch at the Savoy.' Editor: `Umm. . . . Think that might look a bit, er, flippant. Bit hard on Highland Park, too, don't you think? I mean, they're awfully good to us. They sponsor all this, You know; they don't interfere; they don't expect us to trumpet their praises; they don't expect anything except the mention of their name. I really don't think we could just propose a blank slate for their lunch.' All the judges: `Hmm. How about Dennis Skinner?'
Various judges: Too obvious', 'Past his best', 'Wouldn't come, anyway' etc. Or John Bercow [Dave Nellist/Geoffrey Dickens/Eric Heffer]?' Other judges: 'Did him [her] last year [two/three years ago].' How about a booby prize: Poodle of the Year, Bootlicking Aardvark of the year, Zombie Minister of the Year 7' Editor: 'People aren't going to come to have custard pies thrown at them.' And silence falls. But eventually we get there. There always are deserving winners, when you think about it. Parliament, like Punch, isn't what it used to be, but then it never was. The cure for supposing there was a golden age of parliamentary oratory is to read back-numbers of Hansard. I love being a judge. I love the argument, the melancholy, the occasional ribaldry, but most of all I really do like the business of giving credit where it's due. In particular, I enjoy our role in encouraging those who have declined to be created in the image of their party. This does not mean just reward- ing dissent, for dissent can be deeply uno- riginal and there are occasions when loyalty is the braver option. But almost every pres- sure on a parliamentarian is to become rou- tine. Those who resist the routine will often suffer for it, and we and our sponsors have the opportunity to offer a little consolation: modest counterbalance to the dead-weight of humdrummery.
So sure am I that this is right that I was disappointed in myself to discover how hard it was to support (as I resolutely did) the idea that Janet Young should this time get a joint award with Helena Kennedy as Campaigner of the Year.
Judges do not decide this award on the basis of their own enthusiasm for the objects of parliamentarians' various cam- paigns. The campaigns themselves may be (in the view of a judge) misconceived, downright pernicious or even nutty. That this is irrelevant should go without saying. Lady Young was a right and obvious choice for this award not because one might agree with her crusade to keep 'Sec- tion 28' and its prohibition of the 'promo- `I say, darling, we're absolutely broke. You couldn't get yourself on that 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire' programme, could you?' tion' of homosexuality in schools, but because she has campaigned with such energy, skill and persistence. Further, she has been brave.
I may think her campaign has been plain barking mad and that it has given much encouragement to some pretty hateful feelings in many. I think that, whatever might have been her intention, the result has been tremendously insulting to hun- dreds of thousands of good people. I may wish perdition upon her campaign. But that is my personal view and does not detract one jot from her great success as a campaigner.
So, when one of the judges ventured her name there is no doubt at all what my reaction should have been: very persuad- able. Few if any others in Parliament this year have by their own efforts, and in a cause in which they obviously passionately believe, made such a difference. I know that. So I bit my lip, raised no objection, and when I sensed that some of the other judges might be thinking it unfriendly to canvass her merits too vigorously in my presence, I said I thought she was a strong candidate and I would be more than con- tent if she was chosen.
But I did not feel content. I felt cross. This was stupid on my part, and rather unworthy. Arguing with myself after- wards, I mentioned, to my credit, that I had not allowed my opinion of the merits of the Young campaign to interfere with her chances of being hailed as a good campaigner. To my discredit, however, was that I had found this difficult — had plainly failed to carry through into my own breast the clean distinction between content and delivery that I could make in my head. I know she should win this year, so why couldn't I entirely want her to? Worse, I asked myself whether, if nobody else had proposed her name but it had occurred to me, I would have volunteered the suggestion.
I am not proud of the answer, which is that I am not sure. I should have been sure. The answer should be yes. As if by way of punishment, my complimentary bottle of Highland Park, sent by the sponsors, arrived smashed in the post. I shall reread Voltaire, and try harder.
Matthew Parris is parliamentary sketchwriter and a columnist of the Times.
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