In defence of u-turns

I find myself in the unfamiliar situation of saying something nice about a Tory government. But I must say that among all their policy errors there have been a few occasions when I have found myself applauding them. Let me make it clear I dislike the almost universal refusal to give a direct answer to a straightforward question, the parrot-like repetition of a No-10 taught phrase such as "we're being led by the science" or "the journey was within the legal guidelines", and constant use of statistics which as the admirable More or Less (on Radio 4) regularly demonstrates are anything from inaccurate to misleading.

Nevertheless, there seems to be a generally accepted view that u-turns are a sign of weakness in a government - and to be pilloried. On the contrary, it seems to me refusing to admit you were wrong and changing direction can be pig-headed folly. My wife has to tolerate my navigation when we drive anywhere. Not infrequently I direct her the wrong way. Were we to persist we'd either take an awfully long route or completely fail to reach our destination. Sometimes u-turns are the best policy.

Of course taking the wrong road in the first place was unwise. Yet it takes humility and courage, especially if you're a political leader under public scrutiny, to admit that you were mistaken. And I don't think I've ever heard a government representative issuing an unqualified apology. Matt Hancock refused to apologise on Thursday morning for accusing premiership footballers such as Marcus Rashford for failing to do their bit in the pandemic. He had the gall to attribute some of that young man's achievement to his original comments, and seemed to confuse him with the star of the Harry Potter films. Even Boris Johnson spoiled his u-turn in reponse to Marcus Rashford's impassioned plea for the continuation of lunch vouchers for free-school-meal children by declaring at the Tuesday briefing that he'd 'only become aware' of Marcus Rashford's campaign that day. Presumably he doesn't watch even the BBC News, as it was a major item the day before. But credit where credit's due. Someone in government made the decision to reverse the previous mean policy of stopping it when "term time" finished. Presumably they were moved more by political than compassionate considerations - consider the adverse publicity in the media of starving children on the streets. But at least the right thing was done in the end.

Then there was the schools' affair. At first Mr Williamson thought it would be a good idea to send lots of children back to school. When headteachers pointed out that you can't conjure extra space out of nowhere and parents refused to send their children into potential, perhaps imagined, risk, he scratched his head and changed his mind. So the media-maligned teachers, having worked their socks off to provide distance learning to the pupils, many of them at the same time as providing the children of key workers in-school teaching, now face the job of teaching Reception, Years 1 and 6. Reluctantly it seems the minister has listened to the professionals, and suddenly policy changed. And vague - definitely vague - plans for September - definitely September - have been announced. Well, so far, so good. As instructed, we watch this space.

The "reforms" of the amateur Ms Truss within her justice brief have largely been rolled back to the relief of lawyers and the probation service, including the abandonment of her privatisation of probation.

Of course the biggest change of direction was announced by the young Chancellor of the Exchequer when he became, by force of circumstances, an adherent of corbynomics in a manner trashed months earlier by his boss. However in hindsight we'll probably agree that his decisive action will have saved the economy from total catastrophe. Taking advantage of currently rock-bottom interest rates, he borrowed billions of pounds in order to pay for locked-down workers on furlough. And so in company with other countries we find our economy with a debt larger than the GDP. Of all government ministers Rishi Sunak is the most impressive, not least as a communicator.

The Track and Trace app abandonment illustrates vividly the Prime Minister's pig-headed determination to "beat the world". The Government seems intent on making its own mistakes rather than learning from other countries' experience: late lock-down, inadequate stocks of PPE, abandoned testing, trying to create our own app. Of course it would be best not to go in the wrong direction in the first place, but turning round is better than pursuing that road. And we must acknowledge that no government would get everything tight.

Tweeting truth

I want to gripe again. My question is this. When do you ever hear what a politician really thinks?

 

Cartoon from Cartoon Stock

Maybe Donald Trump’s tweets are genuinely his thoughts. But if they are, then where do his more reasonable speeches come from? Are they really what he thinks and wants? Or are they what his speech-writers reckon will go down well with his audience at the time? Certainly his minders minded when in the early days he strayed off-script. And it’s probable that they now also try to vet his tweets, with limited success it must be said.

Meanwhile on our side of the pond it’s fairly obvious that our prime ministers don’t have the time to write the host of speeches they choose to deliver every week. One imagines that their party minders, the ones who pre-brief on coming speeches, suggest a promising topic as well as a crowd or party pleasing line; the PM chooses it and the speech writers produce it for her to deliver. And so we have the curious phenomenon of shifting policy arguments stated with all the conviction of a university debating chamber.

How I long for a politician whom one knows where they stand! And I don’t think I am alone. I suspect the perceived straightforwardness of Jeremy Corbyn accounted for the unexpected success of Labour at the last general election, and the beautifully articulate rigidity of the honourable member for the 18^th century, Jacob Rees-Mogg, explains similarly his unaccountable and regrettable popularity among certain circles. Even the wily Father of the House, Ken Clarke, remains consistent  at the expense of his colleagues falling asleep.

There is, it seems, a struggle between politicians of convenience and politicians on conviction. Sadly often those with political aspirations start off with conviction but the pressures of expediency and the pursuit of power soon squeeze them into the mould of convenience.

It would be nice to believe that a good interviewer might elicit the truth from a politician. But of course the party machines have that awful possibility covered as well. Their representatives are intensively trained in interview technique, which we recognise all too well. It seems to boil down to, “Don’t answer the question asked. Have a sound bite and repeat it at every opportunity. Above all, stay on message.” In my view, the adversarial nature of the interviewing game has done nothing for honest politics. Belligerent interviewers such as John Humphrys simply produce defensive politicians.

 

E B Herbert, The Fox Hunt

Let me add one thing. I’m not blaming politicians more than anyone else. The rest of us have a mob mentality, like a pack of hounds led by journalists on their high horses, seeking out any weaknesses and hunting down our prey to their political extinction. We relish the chase. Perhaps if we respected our politicians more, who are entrusted with a huge responsibility on our behalf, we might receive the respect of their honesty in return.

So, meanwhile, are Donald Trump’s tweets the nearest we will get to knowing the honest views of a politician? If this is as good as it gets, how sad.

Books of grief

I’ve just finished an excellent short book which we were lent. It’s One for Sorrow by Alan Hargrave, who is now retired as a vicar.

It “relates the story of the loss of 21-year-old Tom to cancer, and how his family lived through the aftermath. When Alan began writing the memoir, he believed it would be about his son’s illness and death. He soon realized, however, that he was recording his own painful journey through the ‘valley of the shadow’, as a father and as someone responsible for ministering to others in similar situations. His core beliefs were challenged and his perspective on life changed.

“Now retired, Alan is passionate about the capacity we all have to grow through adversity and, like our crucified God, rise up from pain and death to live and love and laugh again.

Inspired by the classic poem, and beautifully and poignantly written, this memoir is destined to become a classic.” So goes the publisher’s (SPCK) blurb.

My reaction was relief that Mr Hargrave is searingly honest – about the pain, the despair and his doubt, and indeed his loss of faith during bereavement. It’s refreshing to hear a vicar reacting to a verse often trotted out as comfort to the suffering: “It’s a load of bullshit.” None of the usual anodyne platitudes cut through the pain of losing a son. In the end we are reminded that in Christian thought we have a God who has been there too.

What took me by surprise was the incident that reduced me to tears. It wasn’t Tom’s death, harrowing though that is; it was Mr Hargrave’s farewell to the church where he’d been vicar to become a canon at Ely Cathedral. On reflection, I suppose it was a sign of how affected I was by my enforced retirement, though I didn’t feel it at the time. The writer describes how three years after Tom’s death, in the Ryder Cup, Europe “creamed” the USA. “Yet, the following week I feel terrible, plunged into a deep, dark place of depression and anger. I cannot understand why. Then I remember why. What happens the week after you win the Ryder Cup? Answer: your son dies.” Tickets to see the Ryder Cup at the Belfry were Tom’s last present to his father, who loves playing and watching golf. Maybe I miss being a vicar more than I admit.

This is the second book I’ve read recently by a parent who lost a son to cancer. The first was ‘End to End’ – with love by Lorraine George, about her son Rob. That was a similarly harrowing account of an equally painful dying. They are quite different books about individual families’ experience; what they have in common is ruthless honesty. And, I suppose the truth is that no two deaths are the same. However, it may be comforting for others going through similar bereavements to know that they are not alone.