BY STEWART SLATER
Born in the tropics, my son spent his early months in a sawn-off baby-grow (think sleeveless fencing jacket or what I believe is called a “body”). One day, as his first birthday approached, his mother decided that he would go to Sunday Brunch in trousers and a shirt. It was impossible, as he sat at the table, merrily munching away not to detect a certain satisfaction at the situation. He was sitting with the Big People. He was eating like the Big People. He had cast off his childish raiment and was dressed like the Big People. There could be no doubt that he had now taken his rightful place among the Big People. This “growing up” thing had now been completed.
I find it hard not to think of this when I see the Prime Minister. Continually flying around the world to give Important Speeches at Important Meetings of Important People, there can be no doubt that he is an Important Person himself. He always knew he was, but this has finally been recognised by everyone else. All, like it was to that tropical infant, is finally right with the world.
But my son was wrong. His father had put him in his highchair. His mother had chosen his food. Either parent would put him up and set him down wherever they fancied. Whatever he may have thought, they would carry on regardless. His self-image was interesting but not, ultimately, important.
I thought of this too when I saw the Prime Minister light the Downing Street Christmas Tree. As you may have seen, Keir Starmer made a joke. Not a good joke, but it was never going to be, he is not a man renowned for his humour. What I thought was interesting was not, however, the quality of the gag, but the behaviour of the audience. For there was a palpable gap before a few polite titters emerged and a further interval before a polite smattering of applause. None of them appeared engaged with what was happening around them. They were present but not mentally involved, behaving (when they realised) as they thought the situation demanded, not as they actually wanted.
Being in Downing Street is a big thing for most people – it is gated and guarded. Being invited to an event is still bigger, an unusual occurrence in most lives; no resident has ever requested the pleasure of my company (their loss…). But despite this, there appeared to be an apathy about the audience; they seemed to feel they were witnessing an event without much significance or meaning.
The ceremony took place in the same week that the government “relaunched itself” without relaunching itself. The Press Pack was dragged off to Pinewood to observe the Prime Minister reveal his new “milestones”, not quite replacing but equally not quite confirming the “missions” he had launched in the election campaign a few months earlier. In a way it was reminiscent of Rishi Sunak who made five “pledges”, one of which he actually kept.
It was not entirely clear why the missions had become the milestones (and soon, no doubt, the millstones). Nor why the hacks needed to be dragged from their SW1 comfort zone. But launching policies (not, to be clear, relaunching) is what governments do, so it was what this government should do. Governments also commission reviews and consultations, so the government has commissioned reviews and consultations – 60 since coming to power according to Sky News or one every two-and-a-half days.
What was missing was any notion that these milestones or reviews might make much difference to people’s lives. The mission to secure the highest growth in the G7 had become the milestone of “raising living standards”, the “bare minimum” according to the Resolution Foundation since it has been achieved by every previous Parliament. The pledge on Green Energy had been watered down, while the policy for the NHS was felt by experts unlikely to make it better, and quite likely to make it worse. Little wonder that there was a slightly bemused shrugging of journalistic shoulders and the world moved on. Like the audience at the Christmas Tree lighting, they had witnessed a ritual be conducted, but since, like the Christmas tree lighting, it appeared no more than a ritual, there was no need for anyone outside the performance itself to feel particularly involved or particularly interested.
Humans are ritualistic animals who devote huge energy to doing things because other people have previously done them (the number of people who will eat Brussels sprouts (or “Brussels” as we now appear to call them – I missed that meeting) on Christmas Day far exceeds the number of people who actually like Brussels sprouts (or “Brussels”)). But Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without them, so down go the little green balls of bile, boiled to within an inch of their lives.
Politics is no different. The Conservatives spent months engaged in an election (the Seven Dwarves retold by Agatha Christie) to choose a leader whom few expect to be Prime Minister and not many more expect to be in post at the time of the next vote. But big parties have big leadership elections, so the Tories must too. Every week, Kemi Badenoch launches her six questions at Sir Keir because that is what Opposition leaders do and every week, he bats them away because that is what Prime Ministers do. No policy or vote is ever changed as a result.
In progressive societies, rituals are abandoned when their efficacy is disproved – we no longer conduct rain dances after a period of prolonged dry weather because we know that’s not how the weather works. But in stagnant societies, such as Qing China or pre-revolutionary France, as the elite loses its ability to act in the world, it retreats ever more into the world of ritual, performance of the ancestral rites compensating for an inability to effect change.
This is the stage reached by the Groan family in Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast trilogy, the inhabitants of the increasingly decrepit eponymous castle spending their days in the performance of rituals whose purpose they have long forgotten while those outside go about their business, unknowing and uncaring, the building slowly going to wrack and ruin. It also appears (certainly from the turnout figures at the last election) to be the stage reached by our politics.
A series of rituals performed by the elite for the satisfaction of an elite which prioritises the performance of ritual while the electorate, like the audience in Downing Street, looks on at a series of events which have no meaning or significance to their lives.
History and literature are guides, not destiny. It did not end well for the Bourbons and it did not end well for the Qing but it need not end badly for our elite. The Prime Minister is known to dislike the “politics” of politics, not flashy, just Keir. If anyone should be willing to abandon the display of political ritual for the performance of bureaucratic efficiency and policy delivery, it should be he. The Leader of the Opposition claims to be an intellectual, if anyone should be willing to abandon throw-away social media soundbites for nuanced, long-form argument, it should be she. But if they continue to elevate ritual over the real world, they will go the way of their predecessors. They may think they are Big People but, as my son discovered, Big People can still be put back in their pram…
Stewart Slater works in Finance. He invites you to join him at his website.