How The Leopard Got His Spots - And Why We Need To Change Them

A lot of the argument against Corbyn has been with regard to his electability. It is presented as a choice: principles, or power. I'd argue not only that this is a false choice, but that the side arguing against Corbyn will lead Labour to irrelevance, not power.

The political strategy of New Labour was a product of the British electoral system. It made sense to, essentially, take a large number of Commons seats for granted, and focus the party's policies on the small number of swing voters in a small number of seats. This strategy paid dividends, and enabled Labour to win with percentages of the vote in 2001 and 2005 that were smaller than that achieved by the Conservatives in 1979, 1983, 1987, and 1992.

The problem is, however, that this strategy relied on the assumption that you could take a large number of seats for granted - that the Labour voters in those seats would keep voting Labour, as they had nowhere else to go. As long as that assumption held, the strategy could continue.

That assumption no longer holds. Enough of those voters to make a difference found somewhere to go, be that the SNP in Scotland, UKIP in areas of the north, or simply staying at home instead.

To get a majority in 2020 Labour need to win about 100 seats. This seems to leave Labour in a bind - the policies to win current Conservative voters in England are likely to alienate former Labour voters in Scotland, and current Labour voters in the north of England. Currently, three of the leadership contenders seem to be reacting to this by simply ignoring Scotland - meaning it is likely Labour would need a double digit poll lead over the Conservatives to win enough seats in England. This doesn't appear credible.

The answer is to realise that Conservative voters are not the only source of more votes.

From 1945 to 1997, every general election had a turnout of over 70% (71%, actually). After 1997, no general election has. The impact of this is generally overlooked, with commentators instead focussing on the decline in the vote share of the two parties of government - a common narrative is that the electorate is splintering, and voters are turning to smaller alternative parties. The problem is, that narrative isn't true.

Figure 1 shows the reality. What I have done here is show share not of votes cast, but of the total electorate - I have included non-voters. (Yes, you're reading a blogpost with graphs in it. I am profoundly apologetic about this, but pictures help.) The green line is the sum of Conservative and Labour electorate shares, the orange line is the sum of Liberals and others, while the black line is the share of the electorate that did not vote.

If voters were turning away from the main two parties, the share of the electorate voting for others should increase - other than a rise from a very low share in 1970, the 'others' share of the electorate remains relatively stable. Instead, we see non-voters increase dramatically in 2001, and remain high. If this was due to voters for all parties being less likely to vote, then we'd expect to see a decline both in the electorate share of the main two parties and the other parties, but we don't.

The conclusion is clear - voters are walking away from the two main parties. The strategy of focussing on a small number of seats, and a small number of voters, has led to them both being unable to reach out beyond that small group.

Put it another way - since 2001, the biggest share of the electorate hasn't gone to a party, it has gone to non-voters. A party that can actually reach out to this group, and gain their votes, at least gains the possibility of a dramatic change.

Figure 2 shows the rise of non-voting, and the decline of both Labour and the Conservatives. It is, perhaps, instructive to note that even the landslide of 2001, when the Labour Party gained 62.5% of seats in parliament, was only won with 24.2% of the electorate - slightly less than the Conservatives received in 2015.

Of course, one reaction to all of this information could be "So what?". After all, if the point is to get to power, what does it matter if turnout falls, so long as you still get the biggest slice of the people who actually vote?

I'd argue that it is in fact harder to do that - convince Conservatives to switch to Labour - than it is to convince non-voters to vote. This decline in voting for the main parties hasn't just affected Labour - the Conservatives had their collapse in 1997, just one election before Labour, and haven't really recovered. (21.9% of total electorate in 97, 24.4% in 2015.) This means, just as Labour is left appealing to their die-hard core vote, so are the Conservatives - and those are precisely the people least likely to switch from one to the other. It seems far more likely that they will switch to not voting (as figure 1 suggests) or, at best, to an alternative party.

In fact, we have an example of what a difference an increase in turnout can make - albeit when combined with other factors. The turnout in Scotland for the 2010 general election was 63.8%, and Labour won 41 seats, the LibDems 11, and the SNP only 6. The turnout in 2015 in Scotland went up to 71.1% (the low end of the pre-2001 national turnouts), and the SNP took 56 seats, with Labour, the LibDems, and the Conservatives sharing the other three between them.

Yes, other factors were most definitely involved, but take, for example, Gordon constituency. This was held in 2010 by the Liberal Democrats, with 17,575 votes, a majority of 6,748, on a 66.4% turnout. In 2015, the absolute number of LibDem votes went *up*, to 19,030 - but the SNP took the seat with 27,717 votes, a majority of 8,687 on a turnout of 73.3%.

Conversely, we can also see what not addressing this fall in turnout means. A frequent line that comes up in anti-Corbyn arguments is that he risks a rerun of the 1983 general election, a terrible showing for Labour. (It could be argued this was more due to the right of Labour breaking off to form another party, but that is a debate for another time.) If we look at share of the total electorate, we see this truly was an awful drubbing for Labour - only 20.1% of the electorate voted Labour. But it turns out we've already had a rerun of 1983 - 20.1% is what Labour got in 2015. Which was, in fact, an improvement over the 18.9% in 2010. Two of the current leadership contenders were in the cabinet or shadow cabinet for those elections.

The old strategy doesn't work. Trying to rehash it for another run in 2020 isn't going to work. Labour needs a different strategy, one based on reaching out to non-voters - and you can't do that by offering a subtly different version of what the other parties are offering. Those policies are what has turned people off from the two main parties.

Ultimately, you can't do it by listening to what (you think) voters are telling you - because the very people who we need to attract aren't voting. Instead, you need to look at the campaigns and organisations that are attracting members - and at the moment, they are to the left of Labour.

(Data sources: Political Science Resources UK General Election data, and Wikipedia for Scottish turnout and Gordon constituency results.)

Disconnection (Part 4)

This is the hardest post I've had to make in this series.

Over the past few days, I've been able to write almost as an observer, discussing what I think is going wrong, but without it really affecting me. Yes, I've managed to whip myself up into the odd bit of righteous anger, but that's about it.

This post is different though. This one is personal. This is about my own disconnect.

Two years ago, I wrote a lament for English socialism. In it, I told of my sorrow that what was left of socialism in the Labour Party couldn't even mount enough of a challenge to Gordon Brown to make him face an election rather than a coronation.

But I didn't leave the party. To do so would have been unthinkable. This is the Labour Party, for heaven's sake. This is the party of Keir Hardie, of Nye Bevan, of Tony Benn. They are owed my loyalty. They demand my loyalty.

And so I resigned myself to forever being disappointed in what the Labour Party did, of making steady compromises with myself to continue voting for them, telling myself that at least they weren't as bad as the Tories.

But things just got worse. After an impressive start, the Brown government started to fall apart, in style as much as substance - and this was before the banking collapse. Last year, I wrote a series of posts about the Brown government, including whether I could vote for Labour again, and what I thought was wrong with politics. And ultimately, I copped out on deciding whether I would vote for them again - but I clearly stated I could never vote for another party:

I am a tribal animal. It is a terrible flaw, but there you go. And my tribe is Labour. I am Labour. Always will be. The Liberal Democrats are inconsequential, the Tories beyond the pale. Neither could ever get my vote.

I was so sure of my commitment, of my connection to Labour, to my tribe. But...

I suppose deep down inside, I wanted to believe that some of the people at the top of the Labour Party were like me. They too had had to compromise remorselessly, steadily moving away from what they believed in their heart to something that would get them elected, elected so they could achieve at least some good.

But then came the financial crisis. When the Telegraph is calling for bank nationalisations, but the Labour government is resisting, you know something has gone very wrong with the world. To the surprise of nobody but me, it turns out it really wasn't a government of revolutionaries reluctantly turned bureaucrats. The lines they had been peddling about the superiority of the market, about its magical efficiency, about how it should be trusted, they really believed them.

The financial crisis shattered the last of my dearly held illusions about the Labour government. Once upon a time, I could believe in their financial competence, rather than them just being the beneficiaries of blind luck and bad decisions made in America. Once upon a time, I could believe that deep down inside, they believed in the same things as me. Once upon a time, I could believe they wanted to change the world.

But once upon a time ended.

And so my certainty that I was Labour through and through, tribal to the end, has been shaken. And, finally, slowly, it has collapsed.

It's so hard for me to express the pain this causes me. I suspect it is like a priest losing his faith - the one clear, definite, fixed point of his life has been destroyed, the one certainty he could cling to no matter what, the defining part of who he is is gone.

But it is worse than that. Because this collapse in my belief also means that now, finally, I can think about voting for someone else. It feels like I am betraying a dear friend, that I am cheating on a spouse, that I am lying to my parents.

The only thing I can point to, the only experience that this feels close to, is the empty, icy-cold feeling inside when your lover leaves you, when the person you had shaped your life around shrugs her shoulders and walks away. It sounds melodramatic, but the hollow devastation is all I can compare it to. But thinking I can vote for someone else means I am also betraying her, that I am the one in the wrong.

Betrayal is the only word I can use, the only one that seems to get over the shock and hurt I feel at where the party has gone, and the shame I feel myself for thinking of going elsewhere.

And I tell myself I shouldn't feel this way, that it may once have been the party of Hardie, Bevan and Benn, but that it isn't anymore. That the party moved away from me, not the other way round. I tell myself this, but it doesn't really help.

I'm grieving for the party as it used to be.

I'm not the first to feel like this. The Labour Party has been leaking members for years. Always I felt they were making a mistake, that sure, not everything was perfect, but that's what politics is all about. And then my father left the party. Secretly I believed he'd end up going back, that he couldn't possibly turn his back on the party.

But now I am seeing more people who have been committed to the party for a lifetime leaving, quietly, unobtrusively, sadly. I know of people who have been lifelong supporters and members, people who have been councillors for decades, people who have devoted a good portion of their lives to the party, simply slipping away.

These are not people who would make a fuss about it - they still have too much respect for what the party used to be to do that. But when we meet each other, then we can share our private grief. We can talk about what used to be, what we still believe, and what we wish would change.

And all this before the revelations on MPs expenses. That will drive people further away. Further away from all parties, but I can't help but feel that Labour will suffer most.

Because, regardless of the truth of the matter, many traditional Labour voters, people like me, would always have expected Tories to be out for themselves, out to get every penny out of us that they could. But not our MPs, not Labour people, surely? But their venality has been lain bare, the dramatic difference in lifestyle they demanded between how we live, and how they do. And they will suffer.

I feel sorry for the honest MPs out there, the ones who have only claimed what they must, those who claimed little. Those who didn't take advantage of the system, regardless of what the rules were. Because now they are tarred with the same brush. Already politicians were viewed as untrustworthy, and now they are viewed as greedy, venal, criminal. A plague on all their houses, primary and secondary.

And so, this is the final disconnect. A personal disconnect. One I have found very hard to write about. Because my party has betrayed me, in thoughts, in words, in deeds. And I have betrayed my party, in my mind if nowhere else yet.

I can't forgive the party. It remains to be seen if I can forgive myself.

Disconnection (Part 3)

The Labour Party was created to represent labour. It was set up to provide a way for the working class to have a voice in parliament. It was set up to enable the poor to find their own voice. It was set up to fight for the interests of the lowest in society against those who would seek to deny them.

Most importantly, it was set up because the slow increase in the franchise meant there was a large pool of voters who didn't feel they were being represented by the Tories or the Liberals. There had been attempts by the Liberals to position themselves as the natural party for these voters, but they were caught in a terrible position - their original supporters may have been sympathetic with the new voters, but they were pushed too far by a party seeking new votes, and began to fear socialism. At the same time, the restraining affect of these original supporters meant the party couldn't go far enough to capture the new votes. Ultimately, over a period of years, the Liberal Party collapsed.

This meant the Labour Party was the only voice of the left in British politics worthy of note. And over the decades they used this position to great effect. A dramatic increase in the welfare state, the creation of the NHS, the formation of the Open University, the liberalisation on many social issues, all of these came about with Labour.

They took their belief in a better society, a fairer society, a more equal society, and they worked damn hard to try and make it come about.

But there's no doubt that things got tougher for them. A period of economic difficulties, and yes, workplace agitation, set the scene for the Thatcher government that was to be so destructive and damaging to British society.

The failure of Labour to react effectively to the changing social climate, the failure to vocalise the anger and frustration so many were feeling, the failure, in fact, to represent the people it was set up to represent meant a series of humiliating and demoralising defeats.

And these defeats deeply affected the psyche of the party. They had seen a Tory government which gave every indication of being deeply unpopular beat them repeatedly. They began to wonder if there was any way they could win. They began to wonder if there was any hope left.

Which meant the party was only too happy to turn to someone who offered them victory, someone who told them they could gain power, someone who told them they would make it possible. The party was only too happy to give a little, to change a little, to compromise a little.

But doing that was the start of the disconnect of the party from the people they were supposed to be fighting for. The compromises, the steady compromises throughout the years, slowly moved the party further and further away from their original supporters. The party was desperately trying to grab and hold onto the voters of the middle, move to occupy that ground. But like the Liberals before them, doing that meant abandoning the people who used to vote for them, the people who used to be members.

Find yourself a member of the Labour Party. Ask them what they were most proud of the Labour government doing, and they'll likely answer "National Minimum Wage", or maybe "Sure Start".

Then ask them for something not done in the first term.

Labour's plan of triangulation, of moving towards the position of the Tories, of moving to the centre, has meant they have moved further and further away from the natural position of their traditional supporters. This was a deliberate and cynical plot, because the party machine knew that their traditional supporters had nowhere else to go.

And they were right. The traditional support didn't have anywhere to go. Turns out, they didn't even have to go to the polling station. They just stayed at home. Cue falling turnouts, politicians decrying voter apathy, and postal vote systems open to abuse.

But the disconnect between the Labour Party and their traditional support has continued. And this is a bad thing for all of us.

It was widely believed that the existence of the Soviet Union forced the capitalist countries to pay more attention to social inequality. Simply by existing as an alternative model to capitalism, communism forced western governments to keep the poorest in society provided for, looked after, treated with respect.

And I believe the same argument held for the Labour Party. Even when out of power, they were there as an alternative. It meant that, for example, the Tories never tried to privatise the NHS. They knew the howls of protest would lead to a Labour election victory.

Not true for New Labour, of course. There was no-one to the left of them who provided a credible electoral threat. So move on with bringing the private sector into the NHS! Call it reform, call it efficiency, call it 'what works', but let the private sector make a profit from the sick.

And move on with bringing the private sector into education. Call it reform, call it bringing in business talent, call it improvement, but let anyone with cash control what our kids are taught.

And move on with privatisation of air traffic control. Call it essential, call it bringing in fresh funds, call it being free from ideology, but let someone make money out of it.

I don't want this to turn into a litany of what I think the Labour Government has got wrong - though heaven knows I could go on about that for a long time. I am trying to show that there are things that they did which were dramatically against the natural instincts of their traditional support.

All of this created a disconnect between what the traditional support believed, and what the Labour Party did. For a while, this didn't matter to the party - they would still vote for Labour. But I believe we may be reaching an irreversible tipping point.

And it is this tipping point which I will talk about tomorrow.

Obama-mania

So, it's happened. The USA has finally got rid of Bush, which means the rest of the world has as well. In exchange, we get Obama, a man who has an enormous pressure of expectation on his shoulders.

Obama has already done good things. He has ordered the closure of Guantanamo Bay internment centre, allowing those there to either be released, or face a court, as should have happened years ago. He has repealed the ban on funding family planning organisations around the world that dare to talk about abortion. Already, he is starting to repair the damage done to the USA's reputation around the world by the previous incumbent.

But this post isn't about Obama, or how wonderful or not he may be. This post is about the reaction to him from us, from Britain, and from the Labour Party.

The reaction to Obama has been ecstatic, and fawning. Like the screaming crowds greeting a pop-star, our politicians have been going goo-eyed over him, dreaming that some part of his lustre may somehow rub off on them. They have been scrabbling to touch the hem of his robe, hoping that somehow this will make them instantly popular.

Yesterday I suffered a moment that made me practically embarrassed to be British - not something that happens often. (Except when we play the Australians at cricket.) I turned over to the BBC News channel to see it had broken out the BREAKING NEWS banner. "My," I thought, "what has caused this? What shock to our country, what devastating disaster, or what joyous news, what happy event?" I didn't have long to wait. The banner streamed across the bottom of the screen: GORDON BROWN SPEAKS TO PRESIDENT OBAMA BY TELEPHONE. In-depth analysis followed, where the highly intelligent Stephanie Flanders made guesses as to what they may have spoken about.

Now look, I know a lot of this is the product of 24 hour news channels, where they have to fill their time with ever-increasing amounts of inanity. But come on, this was like a bunch of teenage girls screaming with excitement that that special someone had called them. Does anyone actually feel proud of our Prime Minister because he took a phone call? Does anyone feel our standing in the world is enhanced? Does anyone really feel it matters a damn if our Prime Minister is the first foreign leader Obama spoke to, or the second, or third?

Then there is the cringe-inducing case of Dawn Butler MP. I just don't know what to say about that. It's just... embarrassing.

Not to forget the Labour Party's dreadful new fund-raising push. They have seen an energising, exciting, successful campaign by a left-leaning (relatively) figure, and decided the best thing to do is... try and get some cash out of it. Yes, yes, I know that the party needs money, I know they are getting desperate. But is this really the lesson they want to learn? Do they really think people are going to donate money to the Labour Party because they think Barack Obama is a good guy?

We are suffering from a lack of confidence, from a lack of belief in ourselves. Yes, Obama is exciting and inspiring. But that doesn't mean that our response should just be adulation, and a desperate attempt to get some reflected glory. When did our country become so craven that that the best we can hope for is that the President of the USA calls us first? When did our politicians become so lightweight that standing next to someone people like is their favourite tactic?

I'm embarrassed that my country now believes in itself so little that it judges its worth by how quickly the US calls. I'm embarrassed that our politicians feel reflected glory is the best they can hope for.

The Labour Party, indeed the whole political class, seems to want the lesson from Obama's victory to be one about tactics. About how social networking can make a difference. About how blogs can get people to donate. About how Twitter can reach thousands instantly. About how a thriving and vibrant online presence can make people donate money and time.

I can understand this desire. I really can. If it is just about tactics, then it can be replicated. It becomes a cookie-cutter approach that can be rolled out by check-list, simple steps to achieve complete digital dominance. To achieve a critical mass that will help achieve electoral dominance.

I can understand the desire for that to be the lesson, I really can. But it's just wrong.

Obama's campaign didn't attract millions because it was online. It didn't attract millions because it communicated regularly. It didn't attract millions because it was shiny and new and digital and whatever buzzwords you want to throw at it.

No, it attracted millions because of the message. Because Obama came out to a country that was deeply divided, that had been wracked by internal divisions for 8 years, that had faced disaster, attacks, murders and wars, that was now facing economic catastrophe, and the collapse of the system they had been following for decades, he came out to that country and he told them it was OK to hope again. That things can improve. That if they all work together, they can make their country, and the world, a better place. That it was OK to talk about changing the way the economy, and society, worked. He came out and gave a message at odds with that being given by both the Republicans and, initially at least, the Democrats.

The Labour Party here particularly has a problem with this. How can they provide answers to the chaos they have presided over? How can they tell people they will make it all better, when they are the people who took us into this mess? This isn't about the stale argument over whose fault all this is, it's about the perception and feeling of the electorate, which isn't going to be swayed by the incessant sniping over why we are here.

The country is scared. We are nervous, and worried, and we don't know what is going to happen next. Confidence is plummeting. The economic system we have followed for decades is falling apart around us. We are embroiled in two wars. We've been told to fear a vicious assault by terrorists.

Obama spoke to people. He spoke to their dreams. He spoke to their hopes. He spoke to their aspirations. He told them it was going to be OK. He gave them answers to the chaos unfolding around them.

The lesson to learn isn't that you need to campaign online. The lesson is that you need to speak to the electorate. You need to listen to what they want. You need to listen to their fears and their hopes, and you have to address them. The lesson is that you need a message, that you need substance, that you need to be willing to say what you think has to be done now, not because it is popular but because it is right.

In short, you need to be a leader.

It remains to be seen if any British politician of this generation can do that.

The big Brown mess we're in - Part 3

So if I think there is something wrong with British politics, what is it?

It seems to me that what British politics is missing at the moment is that simplest of things, a narrative. In the previous two parts of this polemic, I have tried to weave a story together from disparate events. Now, you and I both know that events are rarely that simple. A does not lead to B that leads to C, and so on. But sometimes that is partly true, and, frankly, we prefer to have the thread of a narrative running through these events. People want to believe the world is explainable, and the story may be a complex scientific theory, a baroque religious myth, or even some amateurish scribblings like mine. We cling to that story, because it makes us feel better.

And I contend we are better for these stories. Stories help us to make sense of the world, and just as importantly help us to understand ourselves. They give us themes we can hold to guide us in our lives - will we be the the cowboy in the white hat, or the one who wears black? Will we be Rapunzel, or Maid Marion? Lancelot, or Arthur? Hell, Roy Rogers or Trigger...

In politics, it is even more important to have a narrative to tell the public. Usually the broad themes have come easy - it will always be the good guys (us) versus the bad guys (various). We have seen this in the Cold War, we have seen this in our new 'clash of civilisations'. But this is not enough. We get bored with only one story. What we also want is the story of where we are going, not just where we are. We want to believe our masters have a plan, a destination in mind, a vision of what they want the country to be.

Tony Blair had that story. He swept to power with the old story about a vibrant young country, Cool Britannia, which was going to take on the world with style and panache. He told us that we, all of us, were going to make things better. No problem was insoluble, and together we were going to throw of the troubles of the past.

He had a story, and we bought into it. We liked it. We wanted to be part of it.

But now? Brown is not a storyteller. He is dour, a competent administrator, a man who can get things done. But he doesn't have the capacity to sparkle. He doesn't have the ability to captivate, and that is what we yearn. And that lack means we no longer let him be the man who gets things done.

But along comes Cameron, and he has a new story for us. About a fresh faced young man who leads a kind party, who are coming to save us from the stuffy old sorts. He is going to make the world right, he is going to heal the world, save the world with nice green policies.

It's a good story. But there are better ones out there.

I'm now going to have a look at US politics to try and see where we can go. I apologise in advance for my naivety and lack of understanding of American politics - I'm talking as a complete outsider, making wild assumptions based on inadequate press coverage. So for all our American friends: Sorry. But I'm going to tell you the story of how I see it.

Any successful political narrative, the narrative of a government, has to tell us who we are, and where we are going. It has to reassure us about the future. There are two basic ways of doing this.

The first has been used by the Republicans for a number of years now. They will tell you a story about how great America is, about all the wonderful ideals and values it has, and that it has shared with the world. And their vision for the future is to tell you how they will protect those values, they will keep them safe, protect the glories of the country from perils within the country, and from foreign lands.

The second has been used by Obama in the primaries. He told a story of how great America is, about the wonderful ideals and values it has, and that it has shared with the world. And his vision for the future is to take those values, to take those ideals, and to build on them. His story is to tell you that yes, we have done so well, but we can do better. His story is to tell you to never settle for what you have, never to rest on past glories, but to move forward, to strive to be better than you were.

This is, as you will have seen, a restating of the positions of conservative against progressive politics. One seeks to preserve what is good, the other seeks to make it better. One risks stagnation, one risks strife. These two positions have been the dominant themes of western politics for as long as I can remember. (Note that conservative versus progressive here doesn't split neatly down party lines - in the UK, you'd have to say under this model Thatcher was a progressive - she sought to change society. I may not agree with it, but that's a different story.)

But the stories are more than this. They are designed to elicit a certain response. The first seeks to inspire fear - fear of the unknown, of change, of the future. The second seeks to inspire hope - hope for improvement, for change, for the future. And I think the American public are getting ready for hope.

Clinton's campaign seemed (again to a complete outsider) to be based a little bit on fear. She portrayed herself as the Washington insider, someone who knew how the game was played, someone who could get things done by virtue of her experience. Obama was the opposite - he portrayed himself as someone who would take the public's desire for change, and make it happen, regardless of the opposition. One position is for those who fear failure, the other is for those who hope for success.

And that's why I don't think much of Cameron's story. He's been very good at telling us who he isn't, about what he wouldn't be like. But for me, he hasn't yet told us who he is. He hasn't yet set out a clear vision for the future. He hasn't told people of hope. He's told us to fear more of the same.

I suppose that's why I can't give up on the Labour Party just yet. They've always had the better stories. They've given me stories of how the world can be better, of how we can work together to give every single one of us a better life, a more fulfilled life. But they haven't been telling me that story for a long time.

New Labour wasn't based on hope. Oh, they told us it was, they gave us hope, but the whole idea of it was based on fear. The triangulation theory was there because the people at the top were afraid the public wouldn't be with them, wouldn't hope with them. They had been out of power for 18 years, and they were afraid they'd stay there. Fear built them a system that won elections, but didn't win the future.

But now I, at least, think things will have to change. The game-plan they have used for the last three elections doesn't seem to be working now. They can't rely on fear of the Tories anymore. Fear isn't working. Now, perhaps, they will turn to hope.

Even if they don't, I still believe things will change. Because I believe the British people are, like the Americans, starting to turn away from fear. If the Conservatives are to ride that feeling all the way, then they need to talk of hope too. And once one of the major parties has, the other has to join in, or face utter defeat.

And that's a good thing. Because I am tired of seeing non-entities lead us. I am tired of slick debating tactics used to belittle both opponents and members of the public who don't play along. I am tired of people I wouldn't want to work for making laws. I am tired of middle managers as Prime Minister. I am tired of politicians who are so professional.

Because I don't want smooth style and slick efficiency in politics. Because I want to see someone with fire in their belly, passion in their heart, anger in their eyes, and righteousness in their voice. Because I want a politician who has a vision for the future. Because I want to see a politician who wants to change the world, not manage it. Because I want to see a politician that believes.

Because I want to hope again.