POLITICS

Will apathy help Mr Blair, or will it sink him?

BRUCE ANDERSON

There is no truth in the rumours that the government is now moving into pre-election mode. That happened during the early hours of 2 May 1997. For the past three years, Mr Blair and his ministers have been refighting the last election, in the hope of conflating it with the next one.

If we go by the polls, of course, the next election is a formality, but politicians never trust the polls, Mr Blair least of all. He never expected anything like a majority of 180, and for much of the past three years he has dis- played the frenetic edge of a man who can- not believe his luck and does not expect it to last. 'Things can only get better' Labour sang at the last election. But despite his three-year honeymoon with the electorate, Mr Blair has always feared that the most important thing, his Parliamentary majority, can only get worse. Unlike Mrs Thatcher, he does not trust the voters who gave him his majority.

If anything, Mrs Thatcher exaggerated her hold on public opinion. She assumed that the great majority of the British people were mini-Thatcherites, and a divided opposition ensured that 43 per cent of the vote was suf- ficient to sustain that illusion. Like de Valera with the Irish, Mrs Thatcher believed that if she wanted to understand the British people, she merely had to look into her own heart.

That would be more of a problem for Mr Blair. It is not even clear if he himself knows what his heartfelt beliefs are, or if they exist. However unpopular she became in mid-term Mrs Thatcher always believed that if the vot- ers understood her core values, they would support her. However popular Mr Blair appears to be, he has no such confidence, but good actors rarely trust their audiences. Any politician without core beliefs is no more than an actor.

The thespian dimension helps to account for this government's political success, and its administrative incompetence. Our minis- ters never take their minds off the head- lines. That explains the government's weak- ness when confronted by complex ques- tions. Whether it be Stephen Byers on the car industry, Peter Mandelson in Ulster, Jack Straw at the Home Office, or Alistair Darling on welfare, the same conclusion is unavoidable. These may be able men, but they cannot do joined-up thinking, None of them is working from beliefs to strategy, ready to trade short-term unpopularity for longer-term success. That is why — Messrs Blair and Brown excepted — this govern- ment has such an air of cloned mediocrity.

If ministers are not allowed to think, they will also lose the power to act, but even before Mr Blair became their leader, most members of his government had already lost confidence in their thinking powers. After the traumas of the Eighties — and 1992 most ambitious Labour politicians had come to believe that thinking cost votes, and that Labour could only win elections by suppress- ing all its previous beliefs.

It worked, but at a price: nervous tension. Having won office by reinventing themselves, New Labourites face the strain of constant reinvention in order to retain office. They can never relax into empathy with those who support them. They fear that their power depends on the votes of millions of people whose instincts are• very different from their own. Those fears are justified.

Back in 1997, there was a secret Blairite plan to overcome this problem, by ensuring that New Labour would never again be at the mercy of a Conservative-minded elec- torate. While Westminster lost authority to Europe, proportional representation would ensure that such powers as it did retain were executed by centre-left governments, and regionalism would make it even harder for the English to reassert their Conserva- tive identity.

But none of this has happened, which has led Roy Jenkins and others of his persua- sion to believe that Tony Blair has thrown away a great historic opportunity. They may be right. If he had held referendums on the euro and PR back in 1997, it would have been hard to defeat him. By the next Parlia- ment, the political atmosphere will be very different. Mr Blair will never again be as powerful as he could have been during his first 18 months, however long he succeeds in remaining in office.

So how long will that be? Mr Blair has one great asset which could, however, turn into a threat: apathy. An increasing number of vot- • ers are disinterested in politics, and that is no solecism; they feel that they have no interest at stake. The prosperous middle classes are not nearly as distrustful of Labour on tax as they used to be, while the old-fashioned working class is far less important than it used to be. Political tribalism is not what it was: many fewer voters than ever before feel either threatened or inspired by what the government proposes to do.

In view of that, we should expect a further fall in turn-out next time — but who will abstain? Though it is hard to prove from the figures in individual constituencies, common- sense and anecdotal evidence would both suggest that most of the four million Tory voters who abandoned their party in 1997 stayed at home. Admittedly, many of those who did vote Tory did so reluctantly, because of fears on income tax, and deserted as soon as Mr Blair reached No. 10. That is why Mr Hague has found the opinion polls such tough going. It has been hard to reach John Major's 31 per cent, let alone surpass it.

So which section of the electorate will not vote next time? Mr Hague has spent most of the past three years — too long — in consoli- dating his core vote. Mr Blair no longer knows what his core vote is, but he will rely on two traditional Tory weapons: the econ- omy and the fear factor. 'Britain's prosper- ous again: don't let Labour ruin it' used to be a Tory cry. Next time, it will be a Labour one.

But Mr Blair has two problems in deploy- ing the fear factor. First, it is unlikely that many voters will expect him to lose the next election; second, most voters prefer govern- ments to have small majorities. The late Bob McKenzie, who invented the swingometer, always argued that in 1970, and certainly in February 1974, the headlines on election day could have affected the result. 'Harold Sweeps Back'; 'Five More Years of Harold': a lot of voters were put off by the thought of a sweeping Wilson and decided that if he was that secure, he did not need their vote. In February 1974, most papers were equally emphatic and on the basis of much slenderer poll evidence. 'Ted Triumphs'; one can see why many voters might find a triumphant Ted a repellent prospect. One of the great mysteries of modern politics is the one and a half per cent drop in the Tory vote at the 1983 election, even though post-Falklands Maggie was only up against Michael Foot. The voters' dislike of large majorities is the only plausible explanation.

During that election, Francis Pym brushed aside speculation about a large Tory major- ity. No, he said, it will be around 60; quite enough. Mrs Thatcher was furious. He did not succeed in talking down a majority; he certainly talked his way out of her Cabinet.

First-past-the-post elections are unpre- dictable affairs. Mr Blair may need someone to play the Francis Pym role for him next time, so that he can enjoy the benefits of apa- thy rather than suffering from it.