But this year I realised what it is that makes me so suspicious of these jamborees. It is not the awkwardness, the fakery, the necessarily forced jollity or solemnity. It is the standing ovations. Each year, ovations are given to the leaders before and after speaking but also, at special moments recognised as such by the herd, during the speeches. Every anti-totalitarian hair should stand on end. But this year there was something additionally idiotic about it all. What had any of the parties actually got to congratulate themselves on? Herd-ism is bad enough at the best of times but after a year of political fiddling it is beyond excuse.
During one of the hours I was in Manchester for the Conservative conference, I sat on a BBC panel with Jeremy Hunt, the shadow Culture Secretary, tipped as a rising Tory star. We were debating social media and how the internet, Twitter and the like might alter future elections. Hunt waxed lyrical about the excitement he felt about "democratising politics" and "bringing people into the discussion". He was "positive", "excited", "forward-looking" and generally in favour of people. I explained that I thought political parties were failing to communicate with people because they were ignoring almost all their significant concerns, not because they weren't twittering enough.
Hunt told us of an initiative launched that day — MyConservatives.com — through which people could keep in touch with the party. "Like what?" I wondered. The first campaign, Hunt informed us, was aimed at helping people save their local pub.
I help my local pub by drinking in it. I don't expect the government or political parties to assist me. But it provided an interesting comparison. Just two days before Hunt and I spoke, the Irish voted "Yes" in their second referendum on the Lisbon Treaty. The vote made the likelihood that Britons would get a vote on Lisbon even more remote. The Tory response was to forbid discussion of Europe during their conference. I pointed this out and Hunt remained silent. To no avail I pointed out how strange it was that while the Conservatives might help you save your local pub, they would do nothing to save the sovereignty of your nation.
The cameras were running and the lights were dazzling. But, as with the fourth plinth, the whole charade was not only vacant but somehow tragic. Somewhere in Britain things are happening, but beyond the cameras and behind the lights. I can't believe the politicians aren't aware of this. But I do wonder for how much longer they can retain their posture of statuesque disdain.
