POLITICAL COMMENTARY

The Politics of Obsolescence

By ALAN WATKINS

v now we are, or ought to be—for have we

not all read our paperbacks of popular sociology?—familiar enough with the idea of built-in obsolescence as applied to motor-cars and domestic appliances. I would suggest that there is an analogous process at work in cur- rent politics. There is an obsolescence built into our political ideas and our political leaders.

Let us begin, as is proper, with Mr Harold Wilson, and cast our minds back to the last elec- tion. Mr Wilson made numerous speeches; or rather he gave numerous versions of the same speech. There was nothing unusual or reprehen- sible about this. Politicians, like parsons, have a limited number of set speeches which they deliver as the occasion may demand, or even as the occasion may not demand. (Compare the Revd Mr Tendril in Evelyn Waugh's A Handful of Dust.) Journalists whose grave task it is to follow political leaders around during election cam- paigns grow used to listening to the same speeches with the same jokes. They then try to report them as if they contained something new. Until recently, however, the politicians' audiences were happily unaware that they were being palmed off with goods at seventh or eighth hand. They believed that the speech in question was being made for their sole edification and entertainment.

But at the last election a change was apparent. Mr Wilson was heckled with cries of 'we've heard it all before' and 'that was last night's speech, Harold'—and it seems that this was the only kind of heckling that caused Mr Wilson any real em- barrassment. The reason for this change is primarily technological. It lies in television. Night after night during the campaign, those Who stayed at home saw Mr Wilson make his speech from their screens. If they went to see him in -the flesh, they heard him make the same speech at some- what greater length; perhaps they went home slightly disappointed.

Nor is this only a matter of news-style cover- age during election campaigns. It involves the whole question of television as a political medium. For the really striking thing about tele- vision is not its power to influence but its power to bore. It devours its offspring. The show must change. Sylvia Peters, Mary Malcolm, Isobel Barnett, Katie Boyle, you heroines of yesterday, wheie, oh 'where, are you now? Then there is Mr Christopher Mayhew : those who are young find it difficult to credit that only ten or so years ago he was a rising star. Mr Eamonn Andrews and Mr Robin Day have, it is true, survived in their differing fashions. They are the exceptions. Will Mr Wilson prove to be an exception also? Will he survive? It is at least an open question.

I do not claim that the over-exposure of poli- ticians, and the consequent boredom engendered, are wholly due to television, though I believe that television is the principal cause. Newspapers are also important. It should not be forgotten that we are the only English-speaking country with a truly national press, giving nation-wide coverage on the morning after a particular event. The result is that political leaders are much less remote than they once were. They inspire little awe, not even in their most fervent political sup- porters. In the nineteenth century, for instance, a Liberal voter might see Gladstone once in a life- time. He might have to travel five or more miles to the nearest town in order to hear the great man speak. It would be an experience he would talk about and remember for the rest of his days.

Today this Liberal voter's descendant would be highly unlikely to talk to his children aboul a speech of Mr Wilson's or for that matter of Mr Edward Heath's. The whole family would already have seen it all on television. It may be significant that the most recent politicians to be spoken of in legendary terms are Sir Winston Churchill and Aneurin Bevan. They were not only superb speakers: they made a point of refusing to expose their personalities on television.

This tendency to become bored with political leaders is not confined to the ordinary lay public. It exists also, and possibly to an even greater degree, in Members of Parliament. As with the general public, television is a cause : but there is another cause, again a technological one. For political problems, whether they are technological or not, are increasingly presented and discussed as if they were. As technology changes so do the' problems and the solutions change; and this is particularly the case in the field of defence. Political leaders are therefore expected con- tinually to come up with 'new' solutions.

Of course, fashion—and this is separate from any question of technology—plays a growing part. For example, around ten years ago the Labour party was highly enthusiastic about the scheme for disengagement in Central Europe known as the Rapacki plan. Today one scarcely ever hears of it. 'The-arguments for the plan have not changed : indeed if anything they have be- come stronger. What has changed is fashion. 'East of Suez' is the foreign affairs topic of the day. And any Foreign Secretary or Prime Minister who is worth his salt is expected to pro- duce some fresh thought on the subject at least once a month:

The notion of built-in obsolescence as applied to politicians is not purely theoretical. In fact, one'. can currently detect at Westminster a good deal of boredom both with Mr Wilson and with Mr Heath. No doubt it is possible to argue at length about the reasons for this feeling, but as to its existence there cannot be very much dispute. Only this week a member of the recent intake of Labour MPs was speculating with some glee about the threat of a mass withdrawal, a mass return to the universities and technical colleges, before the next election. Why, he inquired, remain an MP if things are going to be dull and Mr

Wilson is going to remain firmly in charge of the Labour party, and even possibly of the nation, for the next twenty-five years?

Mr Wilson, we should note, has here a genuine problem. During the last parliament he was com- pelled because-of the size of his majority to resort to numerous measures which •were unsubstantial but exciting. For the next four or five years he has no need to do this. On the other hand he can- not afford to be dull, however much he would like to be. Somehow the flow of new thoughts has to be kept up; Mr Wilson must try to keep several steps ahead of obsolescence. • Mr Heath's problem is more acute. A leader of the Opposition is expected to have more new ideas than a leader of the Government. Moreover a leader of the Opposition, lacking 'any real powers of patronage, is always in a more vulner- able position than a Prime Minister. Mr Heath is no exception. All the present indications are that if anything he will err on the side of novelty; and this week's news of the changed method of select- ing Conservative candidates provides as. good an illustration as any of this.

In the past, local associations have compiled their short lists of candidates from two sources: from a list of possibles carrying the approval of Central Office; and from names which, though not on the list, were self-nominated or recom- mended locally. In general—there were naturally exceptions to this—the locally recommended can- didates tended to be older, worthier, duller and more right-inclined than those who were on the central list. After an association had expressed

the wish to consider a candidate not on the list,

that candidate would be summoned for inter- view at Smith Square. Approval was almost in-

variably given, unless the candidate was positively eccentric in his views. If approval was refused, however, it was difficult for Central Office to pre- vent the candidate from being selected, assuming the local association really wanted him.

The new system, as propounded by Mr Heath and Mr Edward du Cann, has two main features. Fir4t, Weal associations will be expected to do more of their selecting from the list provided by Central Office. Secondly, though nominations frorn outside the list will continue to be accept- able, it is hinted that approval will be more spar- ingly granted. Mr Geoffrey Johnson Smith, the vice-chairman responsible for candidates, is the

most agreeable of men, but it is possible to see strains developing. For instance, can Central

Office really withhold approval from a candidate if; being otherwise unexceptionable, he happens to be an alderman, a former chairman of the association and fifty-five years old? And if approval is withheld, can Central Office really prevent the local association from adopting him if it wants to? The answer to both questions seems to be No. The formal structure of the party remains unchanged by the new system. Indeed it is not a system at all, but a hope for the future. Perhaps it is a very laudable hope, but the brash and insensitive manner of publicising it must have caused more distress than anything else.

All this is a good illustration not of change for its own sake but of the publicising of change for its own sake. It is an example of insurance against obsolescence. Probably, however, novelties of this kind are of only limited effect. Obsolescence may now be built into the political system, at least as far as party leaders are concerned. Like the

butterfly, a modern party leader may have a short life ahead. This at least is the hope which encourages and sustains Mr James Callaghan and Mr fain Macleod.