Showing posts with label Tony Blair. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tony Blair. Show all posts

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Blair - 20:20 hindsight?

 
(Source: Daily Mail)

1972: Tony Blair and his friend pose (and preen, as good-looking English guys could in those days) outside the Vineyard Congregationalist Church in Richmond, west London. They played rock music in the crypt, and even then he went 100% at whatever he took on:

‘Guys, guys.’ Tony called us together after one show. ‘We’re OK and everything but we could be so much better if we rehearsed!’

No '70s laid-back amateurishness for him, then.

John Rentoul's sympathetic biography of Tony Blair "whom he admired more at the end of his time in office than he did at the beginning" (Independent newspaper) notes the future PM's avoidance of drugs, ability to persuade people to help, scrupulous honesty (leaving a note when the band's van scraped the paint off a Jaguar) and sincere, but unhokey, developing interest in religion.

And yet...



From "Tony Blair: Prime Minister" by John Rentoul
He didn't let lack of experience stop him. Here he is in his pre-Oxford gap year:
 

And here is the natural marketer, albeit with an amusingly obvious inducement:


- a forerunner of his penchant for "eye-catching initiatives" that aren't so great on closer analysis.

But the photograph haunts me. Two posers, but the one on the left is the one you look at. And the quality of that grin - not amusement, but somehow thrown at the spectator. What are that hand and hip doing? Is it the will to power, perhaps, combined with the desire for celebrity and adulation - Narcissus in early bloom?

Classical tragedy is based on a great man a with fatal flaw. Could we have foreseen where his egotism misled him into unjust (and it's said, illegal) war?

I have ordered Leo Abse's psychologising book on Blair - the original 1996 edition, to see whether Abse does more than simply vent his detestation of the new Labour leader and can predict the future problems, as well as his decade in the limelight of British politics.


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Friday, January 29, 2010

If only

If only Judge Judy could be asking the questions at the Chilcot Enquiry today.

"Don't bother me with this nonsense."
"Are you on medication?"
"Speak not!"
"I don't believe you."
"That's not what I asked you, sir."
"I don't give a rat's tutu for your pain and suffering."
"Baloney!"
"On my worst day, I'm smarter than you on your best day."
"What you have said doesn't make sense, and I'll tell you why."
"Quiet! When my lips start to move, your lips stop."
"Are you chewing gum?"
"Stop messing with your papers. Look into my eyes, that's how I know if you're telling me the truth."
"Is English your primary language, sir?"
"They don't pay me enough for this." (Bert, quietly: "Oh, yes, they do.")
"Goodbye, have a nice life."

Oh, if only...

Sunday, September 06, 2009

Will Tony Blair take Irish nationality?

Cherie Blair has said on a TV chat show that the Blair children have dual nationality, British and Irish, the latter because of Tony's mother (an Irish Protestant). It is stated that Tony and Cherie have only British passports.

That is not to say that the parents might not later choose to apply. Advantages would include the famously lenient Irish tax treatment of writers and artists (once entirely exempted, but now lightly taxed at 1% on annual income up to €100,000 and 2% for those earning above that figure). Eire is a good country for those who specialise in popular fiction.

Or perhaps the Republic would simply be a good place to lie low when the truth comes out. In 2006, General Sir Michael Rose called for the impeachment (a procedure not used for two centuries) of the Prime Minister, for taking the country to war on false pretences. In this context, it's worth noting that extradition from the Irish Republic to Britain has always been made very difficult. (When exactly were those Irish passports issued to the children?)

Not that the people of the Irish Republic are afraid to call people to account*; they take their religion and morality quite seriously there, still. I watched the Gay Byrne Show on 28 October 1994, when Gerry Adams faced political opponents and a far from sympathetic Southern Irish audience and was called a murderer to his face (he remained lethally calm and turned the point into an issue of good manners).

Perhaps Tony Blair, that son of Proteus, will one day be seized and held until verity is forced from him.

Update

*The current PM is ostentatiously backing compensation claims against Libya for supplying the IRA with explosives. Could we start a leetle closer to home? How much are the IRA, PIRA and the rest prepared to pay?

Saturday, September 05, 2009

Lone wolves and the herd instinct

When Tony Butler worked as a football radio presenter for BRMB, I heard him comment on the news media: "They hunt in packs." (His Black Country accent, part of his charm - there's a beautiful, musical suite of accents in the Dudley/Wolverhampton area - sounded the word as "hoont".)

It's true even now. British PM Gordon Brown is down, heir-presumptive David Cameron is up. We shall see what Balloon Head makes of the economy when he gets in.

The problem with Brown is that he is, in my (educationally experienced) opinion, mildly autistic. He's the kind that academically dumber, normal kids pick on and wonder why he doesn't fight back. He hasn't helped himself by aiming obsessively at a job which requires quite different skills, which the flashy Blair has in spades; but self-knowledge comes hard for ASD types. Star Trek fans will understand that Scotty could never take Captain Kirk's seat in the Starship Enterprise; but maybe he harboured ambition, all the same. Had Kirk made Scotty his deputy, it could have lit the touchpaper.

The autistic child senses his vulnerability, and will make compromises to be part of the flock. Desperate for acceptance and respect, Brown has paltered with the truth throughout his political career, as commentators on his time as Chancellor have often noted. The brawling pit of the House of Commons has never been the place to nurture an inner-directed, analytical man's integrity.

But the pack is blind, too. Unrestrained, the instinct to group-bully the outsiders, the different ones, would send the human race well back into the Stone Age. And then look at the ones they instinctively, collectively follow. How many years was it before the Press revealed what they must have known all along, that the overjoyed crowd that greeted Blair in Downing Street after the 1997 General Election, was a handpicked mob of Party members? I shall believe in journalistic independence when a new incumbent is promptly probed and criticised.

And what is the pack now saying about Afghanistan? Are they correct? Would it solve our problems to withdraw and concentrate on more achievable aspects of domestic security (some British Army regiments stationed by our ports, airfields and the Channel Tunnel might not go amiss); or would it be a sign of weakness, the crumbling that in ancient times not only ceded the provinces formerly under the Pax Romana, but at last saw Alaric's Visigoths rampage through Rome itself?

Monday, August 03, 2009

What's happening to houses?

Mish gives us a few interesting graphs on the US housing market and asks whether it's hit bottom yet. I did leave a comment but it disappeared, so here's the gist:

It looks as if most of the air has come out of the balloon - in the US. Houses doubled in 5 years, and in some cities have now halved again.

As the tide recedes, it uncovers evidence that the market is segmented - look for example at New York compared to the others. The "best" areas are holding up better, and I'll bet the best houses within those areas ditto.

I think this segmentation will continue to be important, because of growing inequalities of wealth. This has been going on over there since 1980, but also historically (as Fischer in "The Great Wave" points out) the rich get comparatively richer in times of crisis.

I also think that the not-the-best-but-better-than-average housing sector will enjoy support for some time, because I suspect that there are not a few people downshifting from the most sought-after areas. These will be aware that they could have got more if they'd sold in 2007 (when I was mooting a caravan to my dearest), but have still done okay and so will not haggle too hard to get that nice little place in the country, especially since many sellers are hanging on stubbornly, waiting for an upturn.

Here in the UK, we have much less land available for residential development, and nothing like the oversupply of housing that exists in the US, so quite possibly our house price bottom will not be so deep. Of course, if our government hadn't encouraged the (legal and illegal) import of masses of poor people who also need a roof over their heads, the picture might have been somewhat different.

In both countries, we still face long-term economic decline; lower real wages as we continue to lose our manufacturing sector, higher energy and food prices and so on. So I expect house prices to continue their decline in real terms over the next generation.

On average, that is. I think we can take the Blair's real estate coup in Connaught Square as not untypical of what will happen in the best end of the market. Speaking of whom, I note that Tony's practising the "sneer of cold command" these days. Pitiable, really.

Sunday, August 02, 2009

The penny drops

So, why Chloe Smith? Why is a 27-year-old accountant suddenly an MP?
Then it dawned on me: newsreaders. That's what they are today.
Doesn't mean they're stupid (Chloe got her first class honours) or unskilful (the swan above, the paddling feet below); but it's a different skill set, and a completely different function.
Can't remember when we were asked about this change of job description, though.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Lost in fantasy

Following up my Parthian shot about Waldsiedlung in the previous post, I looked up Erich Honecker and discovered that one of his slogans in the 80s was "Vorwärts immer, rückwärts nimmer" ("Always forwards, never backwards").

Perhaps you remember Tony Blair's "Forward not back" in 2005? Or his "the People's Princess" (I thought I heard his throat tightening in a desperate attempt to stop the awful phrase coming out - Diana was an Earl's daughter - but maybe it was only a stage sob). And how about "In the years to come, wherever I am, whatever I do, I'm with you", weirdly echoing Matthew 28.

A schlock PM, turning eclectic sources into a mishmosh of gibberish less meaningful than Queen's Bohemian Fantasy, for the sake of a momentary, meretricious glamour. An extension of the "Spacematic DISCO with LIGHTS!!" of his Oxford student days.
Did he ever understand what he was playing with?

Friday, June 19, 2009

A fish rots from the head down

A month ago, we learned that Tony Blair's receipts have been "accidentally" shredded, so that we cannot examine his financial behaviour as keenly as his hapless ex-colleagues. Yet Guido's blog shows that the shredding was paid for, receipted and claimed as an expense.

Are there some people who just get away with it, for ever?

Friday, May 15, 2009

The memory hole

From The Grumbler, but strangely, on page 9 in the dead tree version, rather than the front page:

Tony Blair dodged possible fire over his housing deals after hundreds of expenses claims were 'accidentally' shredded.

Documents itemising some of the then Prime Minister's receipts for 2001-02 were destroyed by Commons officials 'by mistake'.

Raising his voice above the shredders' roar, a source close to a former Prime Minister bawled that he was a pretty straight kind of a guy. Your correspondent made his excuses and left, pursued by an alcoholic pugilist making dark references to discoveries in woods.

Sunday, March 01, 2009

Anthony Charles Lynton Blair summed up

We spend a long time gathering and shaping our impressions, constructing the two halves of the arch, then the keystone is lowered into place:

September 13, 2001

To London on the 18.47. David Miliband was on the train. He is in a similar situation to the one I was in when I was first selected - enemies occupy every office in his constituency party, although in his case it is nothing personal.

He says The Man - who was once in a similar situation in Sedgefield - advised him 'to go around smiling at everyone and get other people to shoot them'. Advice that The Man seems to have applied throughout his career.

I have often thought that if you want to judge alpha types, especially in public life, it's no use meeting them, since they have spent a lifetime perfecting their persona. You need to look at the people they choose to surround them, and then the agenda will become clear.
"Man smile; man nice man."

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Tony Murdoch, Rupert Blair

Reading Michael Wolff's article in the Spectator today, I was struck by the uncanny resemblance of his subject to another. Here, with only a few substitutions, cuts and emendations, is my version.

Blair’s big secret is that he doesn’t have one

Wednesday, 26th November 2008

Sackerson reveals how he secured Tony Blair’s co-operation for his biography and discovered that this political titan has no interest in posterity. He is, at heart, a political operator

There is, on the one hand, the unparalleled national dominance in politics that Tony Blair and his New Labour have achieved. And yet, on the other, there’s an almost endearing attention-deficit lack of organisation and heedlessness that I witnessed in many years of chatting with Blair and his ministers.

The fact that I was talking so often and so openly with Blair was as good an example as any of the absence of planning and strategy that backs up one of the country’s greatest control freaks. Indeed, throughout the company, people kept saying to me (and among themselves): has he lost his mind, spilling the beans? Why is he doing this? What is he thinking?

The answer involves, I believe, New Labour’s essential political advantage and fundamental personality trait: Blair and Labour act without thinking very much. Or the only sustained thinking that goes on is about what he might be thinking. And that’s extremely hard because the man, contravening all rules of modern analytic politics, acts almost entirely on impulse — his method is all based on instinct, urge, gossip (i.e. a more or less random collection of things he’s been told), and the impelling force of immediate and casual circumstance. It’s serious ADD.

It was during his takeover in the 1990s of the Labour Party — a set of brilliantly executed strategic moves that occurred mostly without any kind of analysis about why he might be changing it and what he would be getting after he took charge — that Blair and I began our interviews. I had gone to the publisher of my last book and argued that there might be a chance Blair would agree to a long exclusive interview — the kind which, out of impatience or defensiveness, he had never granted. I sensed he might be open to the attention — that he was proud of winning the Labour Party.

Blair found himself talking to me with no plan or agreement or understanding or even time constraints. For the first several years of our interviews, he was clearly wondering how it was that I had got there. Only the fact that he is a very polite man, and conflict averse — at least in a one-to-one sense — kept him, I often felt, from tossing me out on my ear.

The vastness of an organisation like New Labour, dominating nearly every political platform in the country, makes it perceptually almost impossible not to believe that there is a vision here, a method and a far-reaching intelligence (pernicious or otherwise).

This was what I obviously tried to probe, sitting with Blair for nine months. What’s going on in there? What does he know?

To be with Blair, to view him, to get inside his head, and to understand how he does political, you have to take away all technology — that is, all the web-searches, all the data, all the correspondence, all the communications resources, that ministers everywhere rely on. Blair, at 55, can’t use a computer, doesn’t get email, can’t get his cell phone to work properly, can’t even imagine changing the variables on a spread sheet. (The fact that New Labour often bills itself as a technologically farsighted, aggressive and clever party is amusing to everyone there.) During the campaign to take over New Labour, Blair’s spies and surrogates would email Blair’s 54-year-old wife, Cherie, and she’d read to him from her mobile phone. Indeed, while many people at New Labour were trying to talk about the cross-platform synergies at New Labour and the future of electronic voting, Blair was only ever talking about the Party.

Psychologically, he is far from modern too. He can’t question his own motivations (a curious problem for a biographer). He truly doesn’t believe in interpretation. His face draws back, and he scowls in a remarkably dismissive way if you try to suggest that there might be a deeper pattern to his actions — that there might be meaning beyond living to fight another day. Accordingly, he has surrounded himself with a cadre of unanalysed people who believe it’s best to act before thinking too much. Curiously, his children are reasonably nuanced thinkers, which is perhaps one reason he thinks they are the most brilliant people in the country.

He has no historic interest — even in himself. This sets him at odds from most men of accomplishment, who generally cherish all their achievements. Blair hardly remembers his. The past has receded. He cuts himself off from it. In conversation, he often loses or transposes decades. This is only partly age. More to the point, he obviously has no use for memory. That’s a distraction. He is not demoralised by defeats. He’s not aggrandised by victories. When you interview him, you can’t, profitably, ask about what has occurred, you can only engage with him if you talk about what’s going on now. What’s on your mind this morning, Mr B? Who are you feeling competitive with today? What fly is buzzing near your face?

He is, and runs his career like, an ambitious man. He’s a dealmaker. No more, no less. No better, no worse. What he values is the ability and inclination to make split-second decisions. He’s rather proud when that ability is not slowed by too much information or explanation. He is most motivated by the last interesting thing someone told him — whether it is true is not as important as how it will read. Sitting with Blair for so many years, I’d regularly see the odd bits of information come in (my stock obviously went up when I offered him a tidbit), and be directed to a political researcher, or become part of his world-view or some instant political decision-making process. (At a cocktail party, he meets someone from Afghanistan, who suddenly informs his view of that conflict; at another party he meets someone who knows a policeman on Long Island, and that colours his view about a lecture tour in New York) He has no interest in understanding himself, because he sees himself as an everyman. He’s Mr Basic, Mr Uncomplicated; he has no airs, no fancy aspirations. He can trust his own gut. And why should he remember the past, he has to be in tomorrow’s papers? And once again beat the competition.

I have sometimes had the feeling, over the past years of talking to Blair and New Labour ministers, that his people are humouring him. That he is not so much, in Alistair Campbell’s formulation, the Sun God, who people cannot question, but instead a sort of long-running joke in which everybody at New Labour — so many of them career employees — is complicit. The joke is that this greatest of modern political men, the architect of the synergised, cross-platform, integrated, national political party, has no vision, no method, no strategy. Nor, likewise, does this man, perhaps the individual with the single most powerful political voice of our time, have any politics — save for what makes for good newspaper copy or puts money in his own pocket. Rather it’s all made up — what he buys, how he spends, what he believes, who he supports — on the fly.

In my interviews, Blair, even though a professional in the political world, was guileless — or ultimately unconcerned. It was a book, for one thing, and, as his advisers suggested to me, he might never have read one. What’s more, to think about how he might be portrayed would be to have an idea of his own self — to have to dwell on things he is incapable of or vastly uninterested in dwelling on. And yet he did it — blabbered away for years. With hardly a thought he exposed himself, his family and all his ministers to a biographer who one day happened to walk into his office. Even prospective immortality is something, at New Labour, which you just throw against the wall and see if it sticks.

Friday, November 28, 2008

Handy-dandy, the pigs are the farmers

Place your political parties in the schema below:At first, I wondered what Hatfield Girl was talking about. Now it's one of the news headlines on the morning radio, and in the papers: the Government has taken to arresting members of the Opposition, like tinpot dictators in faraway countries that it's difficult to believe really exist.

Difficult to believe; that's part of the process. Honestly, I have felt since 1997 (and I am no natural Conservative voter, please believe me) that something was obscurely wrong, that we were all inside someone else's dream. It's like that feeling you get that you've forgotten something, but haven't a clue what it might be.

Before 1997, the Government was Them and we were Us: British, muddling through, ready to heave a brickbat at these clowns who pretend to rule us, but all of us bound by habit and tradition. But in Tony Blair's revolution, the Government claimed to represent all of us: it was the political wing of the British people as a whole, or some such typical Toni verbalfluff.

This is how Nazism took hold - and my mother lived through it. No need for the unions, we the national socialist State represent the worker's best interests, etc.

Fascism, Communism - it's all the same, structurally.

Sunday, November 02, 2008

Monday, August 11, 2008

On me fait tort

In the Post Office just now, I glanced at the leaflet rack and there were all these savings products labelled The People's Instant Saver etc.

I remember watching Tony Blair announce the death of Diana, and how he half-choked on "the people's princess", as though some wiser part of him at the back of his throat was trying to save him from a ghastly, laughable gaffe. He seems to have got away with it, though (as my wife pointed out at the time) she was the daughter of an Earl. (Note, by the way, how his speech began the first two paragraphs with the first-person personal pronoun. Everything was always about him, was it not?)

I suppose this is all part of the Gramscian cultural deforestation in preparation for the Garden of Eden that will be Cool Britannia. I also suppose that when we have become the PRGB, the country will be disunited and the people will have less say than ever.

If, by then, we have enough money (for clearly that's all that matters, now), we may move to Jersey, which at least recognises Her Majesty's rule under her title of Duke of Normandy. When we visited there years ago, we learned that as in ancient times, if you feel you have been wronged, you may make an appeal direct to your ruler: you drop down on one knee, spread your arms and call out "Aro, aro, aro, mon Prince! On me fait tort!" The Jersey Council must then hear your case.

But Her writ does not run here, or will not for much longer, if we continue in this direction.