POLITICS
Memo to Mr Hague: populism is not the same as popularity
BRUCE ANDERSON
The Tories are in trouble, again. Before the August holiday, the government was stumbling. Leaks, ministerial rivalries, prime ministerial self-doubt; it seemed as if Mr Blair was losing his grip on govern- ment. So the Tories were buoyed up, and looking forward to an August with Mr Prescott in charge: always good for a few laughs, and some poll movement.
But the only poll movement was in Labour's favour. For once, John Prescott kept his feet out of his mouth. Mr Hague, alas, did not. The Tories were said to be planning an August offensive. William Hague's sole contribution to this otherwise invisible event was an account of his beer- drinking past, which appeared to leave the nation equally divided, between disap- proval and disbelief.
Even in the silly season, it is hard to see why the gallons of yesteryear should have aroused such excitement. It was natural that Mr Hague should wish to dispel the rumours that he spent his teenage years reading Hansard. Nor was he necessarily exaggerating when he claimed to have con- sumed 14 pints. Hard manual labour has always been associated with heavy beer- drinking: at the end of the 19th century, some Welsh miners were allowed to drink 15 pints a day and still sign the pledge. If a strong, young, temporary drayman was delivering ale to working-men's clubs in Rotherham on hot summer days, he himself would be bound to sink quite a lot of the stuff. By the end of the day, not only the barrels might be rolling. Lads will be lads, and Mr Hague's behaviour at Euan Blair's age should be even less relevant to his political prospects now than Master Euan's is to his father's.
But it did become so, because of William Hague's basic problem. Much of the public does not yet see him as the rounded, adult figure which he is. Mr Blair threw the word weird' at Mr Hague during one Prime Min- ister's Questions; the PM had picked up that word from a focus-group report. It is still a widespread perception, which helps to explain the Tories' current predicament, in which one of their more plausible front- bench spokesmen, Liam Fox, is criticised over an obviously commonsensical point about the need for foreign doctors to speak good English.
To some extent, William Hague and his team are victims of circumstance. The suc- cession to John Major may well turn out to have been a hospital pass, for the Tories endowed the incoming government with the best possible inheritance: a strong econ- omy and discredited opponents. Having turned out the Tories in such a resounding fashion, many voters feel that if they were to change their minds so rapidly, they would stand convicted of fickleness. But the Labour government has also worked hard to encourage its converts to retain their new allegiance. Mr Blair's middle-class electoral appeal is easy to summarise: cost- less compassion.
By 1997, many previously Tory voters were uneasy about the outward and visible signs of increasing inequality: the wealth generated within grand London offices, while the homeless slept in the entrance- ways. Such Tories were ready to believe that their party was promoting private affluence and public squalor; that when they were not merely incompetent, Tory ministers were stonily indifferent to failing schools, beggars in the streets, and a soaring prison popula- tion. By appearing not to care, the Tories forfeited trust; by talking the language of care, Tony Blair helped to win it.
Better still, however, Mr Blair was able to care without putting up tax rates — at least as crucial to retaining middle-class trust as his supposed appeal to compassion. That is the genius of Blairite Labour. In 1997, many of the prosperous classes felt guilty because they appeared to be enjoying themselves in the midst of poverty. The new government has exorcised that guilt at minimal cost in higher taxation. There are as many failing schools as ever, at least as many beggars, and even more prisoners. But in polite cir- cles, it is no longer fashionable to agonise about such disagreeable topics: Tony has taken care of that. Down the centuries, sophisticated Catholics have longed for per- missive Jesuit confessors. In playing that role to perfection, Mr Blair and his minis- ters have won the trust of the worldly.
So the Tories are in a pickle, and their instinctive reaction to their difficulties has made matters worse. The Tories have seen through Mr Blair, whom they believe to be shallow and dishonest. But they seem unable to persuade the wider public to share that view. The Tories cannot take this unprincipled government seriously; most other people do. It is no use complaining about the cynicism of the government or the hypocrisy of its supporters. Nor is it any use launching isolated policy ventures, whether it be better English for foreign doctors, or the proposals on 'paedophiles, benefits, travellers and the road system' to which Mr Hague referred in his Times interview on Wednesday. Such populist ini- tiatives may help to firm up the tattooed- forearm vote, but they will do nothing for the gravel-drive-and-Volvo vote. Populism is not the key to popularity.
That can only come from Big Picture Conservatism, which the opposition has so far failed to provide. Yet there is no reason why they should have found it so hard. Anyone who talks to William Hague for even five minutes will come to some con- clusions which might surprise those who do not know the Tory leader. Unlike Tony Blair, this is a man who has thought hard about his country's history. William Hague agrees with Winston Churchill that the more you know about the past, the further you can see into the future. Mr Hague is also both a visceral patriot and a reflective one. Perhaps because we are worried about being bracketed with Dr Johnson's scoundrels, the British — unlike the French or the Americans — are rarely at ease when deploying the language of patriotism in peacetime politics. Though Mr Hague is no exception, he is a deep man, and I am not referring to his beer consumption. Yet he has not begun to persuade his fellow countrymen that this is the case.
He has left it perilously late to start, but there is a draft manifesto launch next week, in which Mr Hague will endeavour to set the political tone in the run-up to the party conferences, and thus create some momen- tum for the election campaign. So it is a crucial document, and there is a hint that Mr Hague may be approaching it in the right spirit. In the Times interview, he said that the document would contain 'a strong- ly positive statement . . . our vision of the future of the country'.
Such a vision cannot slip out as an afterthought, amid a thicket of populist detail. It needs to animate the entire text; to be expressed in honest, powerful rhetoric drawing on personal conviction. If Mr Hague can deliver that, the battle for trust may not yet be lost. But he has only a few months to persuade enough voters that he is a serious, trustworthy figure, and a potential prime minister.
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