Friday 1 August 2014

Eyes right

Being right-wing is a rational, principled position. It is based on an intelligent analysis of the facts, and motivated by a desire to bring happiness and prosperity to as many people as possible.

You may have heard this before. You may have repeated it under your breath as a calming mantra during political arguments with particularly objectionable right-wingers. It is a useful counter-balance to the other voice in your head, which is screaming, ‘They want to eat the poor!’

Political principles deserve some respect - partly because it’s a waste of time to do anything else. They are similar to religious opinions. It is possible, up to a point, to argue with someone whose religious opinions differ from yours. But once you realise that your disagreement is so fundamental, it’s probably sensible to concede that you might not win them round. If you disagree about how the universe comes to exist, what's the chance that you'll agree about council tax bands?

Equally, when someone with different political principles disagrees with you, the first instinct is to bark back, ‘No, you’re wrong.’ But it’s surely a truer statement - and better for your blood pressure - to say, ‘Yes, I’m sure you do disagree. I thought you would. More than that, I’m glad you do.’

And that needn't be said snidely. It doesn’t have to mean, ‘I always know I’m right when you disagree with me,’ as if your conversant is a litmus test of stupidity. It’s simply that when someone with different principles disagrees with your opinions, that would seem to suggest that all is well with the world.

This kind of fundamental respect shouldn’t blunt political argument. In fact, it should provide the necessary parameters that allow both sides to go all out. Mutual respect of political principles are the boxing gloves that allow you to punch your political opponents as hard as you can, repeatedly, in the face. So let’s do that for a bit.

There is nothing wrong with being right-wing. Being a right-wing politician, however, is absurd.

Right-wing people want the state to be as small as possible. They think that the government should interfere with people’s lives as little as possible. The less government, they reckon, the better.

Politicians want to run the government. Their personal ambition drives them towards acquiring as much power as possible, exercising as much control over the country as they can.

This is why being a right-wing politician sends your brain in two different directions at once. Your principles want the government to butt out, but personally you want to muck in. Being a right-wing politician must put you in a state of constant mental breakdown - you have to feel for them, really.

Right-wing people value the individual above the collective. So what on earth are they doing involving themselves in a government? Government is all about the collective - it is the greatest expression of the collective, and its greatest triumph.

There is no better example of this brain-splitting problem than the current Tory party’s attitude to the NHS. ‘No top-down reorganisation’ they said, from the comfort of a general election campaign. When you are writing a manifesto, you can let your ideas run free, unfettered by your personal ambition.

But when they got into government, they realised they had the power to tinker with things to make them more to their liking. And the desire to tinker entirely overcame everything else.

All parties have written manifestos in haste and repented at leisure. Lib Dems must wish they’d never mentioned tuition fees. New Labour got much more than they bargained for from Scottish devolution. And the whole House of Commons must have wondered what they were thinking when they voted through the Freedom of Information Act that led inevitably to the expenses scandal.

But in Tory cases the problem is more fundamental. There’s something not entirely Tory about having policies at all. Policies involve changing things, and that means more work for civil servants - which always strikes the Tory heart as wasteful.

Every politician says that they want to make a difference. It has become one of politics most irritating catchphrases: “I didn’t come into politics to (do something dreadful that my opponents like), I came into politics to make a difference.” If you want to tell us why you came into politics, put in your memoirs when you retire, then we an all ignore it.

But Tory politicians shouldn’t be allowed to say, “I came into politics to make a difference,” unless they add, “But I also think that no politician should have enough power to make a difference, so now I need a lie-down.”

A right-wing politician should be an oxymoron. It should be like an atheist vicar, or a vet who’s terrified of cats. A “right-wing politician” shouldn’t be a description of the twenty most powerful people in the country. It should be the premise of a sitcom. ‘What if a right-wing person wanted to  be a politician? That would be funny, right?’ ‘Yeah, but it’s not very realistic - everyone knows it would never happen.’ ‘Hey, calm down, it’s only a sitcom.’

So right-wing people should stay away from politics - for their own good. Especially when there are so many other jobs that would suit them so much better. Businessperson is the obvious one, but there are other options. Lighthouse keeper. Frontiersman. Chess grandmaster. Those people who build ships in bottles. Beekeeper.

It’s not that the country would benefit from fewer right-wing people in positions of power. That would be simply a pleasant by-product. The main concern is that these people should not have to endure one moment more of the mental upheaval that being a right-wing politician inevitably entails. History will judge us harshly if we allow their suffering to continue. It is time to remove all right-wing people from politics, as a kind of humanitarian airlift.

And if just one more ship ends up inside a bottle, it will have been worth it.