I occasionally get the chance to transcribe a letter from a wily old cynic, a veteran survivor of many past battles. Today, a copy of a sulphurous letter arrived, addressed to a not particularly prominent supporter of David Miliband. I thought it was worth sharing. Names have been changed, naturally.
BY HAND -PRIVATE
Dear M,
Well, I bet I find you a trifle embarrassed, as having backed one Mili with vigorous enthusiasm, you now find yourself trying to reverse gently into supporting another.
I did try to warn you that unbridled enthusiastiasm is only appropriate in a walkover, but would you listen? No. A degree of distance would have made you useful to either winner, as the few Ballsites are discovering. But you had to throw yourself in to a contest where the outcome was uncertain and your contribution to victory was minimal. Foolish.
Frankly I can’t understand why you did it. After all, even if your man had won, he could have offered you nothing significant. That Prince’s council was chosen an aeon ago, and you were stuck in a distant ante-chamber.
Still, you at least came to ask for advice, and for the price of a decent Claret, I am prepared to offer it.
First of all, put out of your mind all thought of revolt, future or present. You are a member of Her Majesties Loyal Labour party, a party so loyal we possess a proud record of being thrown over by our leaders more often than we have overthrown them.
So the new man is in for a good while. There will be occasional mumblings and discontent, but in truth, the next few years will feel like recovery.
As long as we are gaining council seats, press admirers and plaudits from the chin-strokers, as we will, no-one will be rewarded for piping up to say that it may not quite be not enough. Such noisome dissent will be both ludicrous (you are no Tiresias) and counter productive (for such comments would be seized upon by our enemies).
So put such thoughts from your head. In any case, if the unthinkable did happen, then like the Roman Senate after the fall of Sejanus, it will be far better to not be a Macro, sand ufficient merely to avoid being a known Julian.
You now need to walk a fine line. First, do not suck up. If you suck up ( by which I mean, going around telling the new leader and his complement of pale twenty and thirty-something assistants how wonderful they are, or being interviewed by some gawking 2am newsreader about how superb the new leader is), the Leader’s team will disdain you.
Why? because however grateful they appear to be, ultimately they will know your support is false, a cheap thing, to be obtained by the mere scent of authority and in opposition, forsooth. Knowing you sell yourself so cheaply, they’ll assume that one day you could be bought cheaply too. You badge yourself as fickle and untrustworthy.
Since you’ve got yourself into this mess, don’t think you can get out of it by pricing your integrity at a mess of pottage.
Instead, as you cannot be a fast climbing lackey, you have to take a far harder road. You must make yourself an attractive target for political seduction. You must make them desire you, need you, long for you. Then you can sell your integrity for what it’s worth, which in your case is a good shadow cabinet position with the promise of promotion.
So be loyal and supportive, perhaps a letter sending to the leader or a chance meeting with his chief of staff where you say quietly that “of course, while I take a different view on some issues, I know that Ed has won the right to loyalty.” But then, stop. If you are asked to help, murmur “of course”, but do not push yourself along with the other greasy pole climbers. You have to make them want you.
So what political pheromones can you spray yourself with that will lead you to appear a tantalising conquest? first, realise that opposition is bloody horrible. Things will go wrong, and when they do, the person who is useful is not the lickspittle, but the man who knows. In a crisis, we all become followers of Plato.
So your challenge is to find some coming storm and become expert in it. Make your own way, never challenging the leader, but building your reputation. Then, when the storm comes, you will have your umbrella ready to unfurl.
The good news is that you have many options – Jobs, Welfare, Defence, public services, pensions, each of these will be fertile ground, I’d go for employment, but I’m an old eighties man, so you might prefer something more vague and etherial that can be applied to any crisis.
“The good life”, or some such, will suffice. Start a think tank called Eudaimonia. (Don’t write it in Greek, for gods sake. It’s purpose is to be a title to go under your name when on Newsnight. No-one will know how clever you are if it’s all greek to them). Write a report on the social consequences of insecurity. Write a book with several hundred footnotes. Make speeches. Get some sallow youth to spend a month staring at databases while camped out in the commons Library. Build your stock of intellectual capital, loyally and quietly. Praise your leader, if asked, but be circumspect. Your mind is on higher things. Say you wish to attack the ideological underpinnings of the enemy, not second guess the position of a friend.
Then, at the moment everything looks like it’s going tits up, then you offer support. Bring to bear your newly acquired reputation. Speak up, and save the day. Don’t worry, you won’t be rescuing a drowning man. You’ll be coming to the aid of the party. Showing your truebackbone when the fair weather friends are flapping. A man of iron, of indefatigable will, of real grit. Just the sort of fellow we need in the thick of battle.
So, off you toddle. Play the long game. You’re a substitute, so wait until you’re desperately needed before trying to get on the pitch.
Toodle pip.
Lord Tapescrew PC