Melanie Phillips, Michael Portillo and me

Mel P was sensible on Moral Maze, but Michael P behaved ridiculously.

I turned up on Radio 4's Moral Maze last night. The other "witnesses" were the former Sun political editor George Pascoe-Watson, the Tory blogger Iain Dale and the philosophy writer Mark Vernon.

On Michael Buerk's panel were the ultra-conservative columnist Melanie Phillips, the former Tory cabinet minister Michael Portillo, the conservative Catholic commentator Clifford Longley and the liberal contrarian Kenan Malik. So much, as I've often said, for the Beeb's so-called left-wing bias.

You can listen to the show here.

The subject of the programme, in the wake of the Gordon Brown/Piers Morgan interview and, of course, the recent row over "bullying" inside No 10, was "personality politics" -- do we have too much of it? Has it become a crude substitute for ideological debate and discussion?

I happen to think it has. Political coverage has been reduced to which leader has the nicest smile, whose wife wears the best clothes, and who can emote best in reality-TV-style interviews with the likes of Piers Morgan and Alan Titchmarsh. Voters are told to vote for the guy they "like" or identify with, rather than the guy who can best run the economy and best govern the country.

Here is the peerless Roy Hattersley, writing in this week's New Statesman:

Policies have become less important than personalities. Image has taken the place of ideas. Rawnsley is a paradigm figure from the age in which parliamentary reporting has been replaced by "sketch-writing" -- an attempt to amuse rather than to inform. The End of the Party debases politics not because it diminishes the Prime Minister, but because it reduces what should be a debate about great issues into a gossip column.

. . . It may be naive to believe that, in the age of reality television, politics should still provide something more noble than the parliamentary equivalent of mud-wrestling. But unless politicians return to the conflict of ideas, democracy itself will be devalued, and the Andrew Rawnsleys of this world will make their money by suggesting that elections should be decided by which party leader the voters would most like to see evicted from a Westminster edition of I'm a Celebrity . . . Get Me Out of Here!.

Hear, hear!

The problem on the Moral Maze last night, however, was a lack of definition. Neither the panellists nor the witnesses seemed to be able to agree how to define "personality" or "personality politics". I happened to agree with Melanie Phillips -- for the first time in my life! -- when she said, right at the outset:

There is a difference between personality and character . . . but the exploitation of sentiment and emotion by politicians is something that has gone too far.

She's absolutely, 100 per cent, correct. (Whoaaaah! There's a sentence I never thought I'd write: "Melanie Phillips is right." I think I can't breathe . . . )

But Michael Portillo wasn't happy with my argument. He went on and on about Iraq and how Tony Blair's personality had mattered in the run-up to the decision to invade Iraq, not policy issues. The lesson of the Iraq war, he argued, was that it was important to "understand the character of Tony Blair".

Really? Portillo, of course, supported the disastrous and illegal invasion in 2003 and (wrongly) predicted that all would be fine in postwar Iraq. So perhaps, on the contrary, he should have studied the issues (WMDs, UN resolutions, postwar reconstruction, etc) more, focused on the policy more, and not simply been seduced by Blair's irrelevant "character", charm, personality, brilliant rhetoric, and so on.

From the start of our exchange, Portillo seemed riled, and then became very aggressive and started sneering at me. For example:

Let me just comment that many people listening to this programme will think that you pick and choose according to your own personal preferences . . . You're just somebody who's got a series of prejudices and tries to stand it up with something you claim is kind of evidence . . . Perhaps that's because you're not very good at examining your own personality.

Oooohhh! Sticks and stones, Michael. I had to point out to the former defence secretary that perhaps I hadn't had the opportunity of examining my own personality in as many TV documentaries as he had.

Portillo strikes me as the classic "modern" Cameroonian Conservative: socially liberal, pro-war and Thatcherite on the economy. Here he is in the Sunday Times, in August 2009, quoting Charles Murray (!), railing against a "culture of entitlement" and accusing the welfare state of "boosting idleness". "New" Tories, eh?

During our exchange, Portillo refused to see the distinction between one's personality and one's background. This internet dictionary, for instance, defines personality as the "distinctive qualities of a person, especially those distinguishing personal characteristics that make one socially appealing". So why should my admission to being interested in David Cameron's schooling undermine my opposition to personality politics and my dislike for the trivialisation of debate by political journalists obsessed with whether or not Gordon Brown throws mobile phones, or the number of women Nick Clegg has bedded?

In fact, I don't need to know whether Brown has a bad temper or not, but I think I do have a right to know where Cameron went to school. That's because he has surrounded himself with other Old Etonians while pretending that "we're all in this together", and is advocating economic and social policies -- such as the inheritance-tax cut -- that would enrich Old Etonians, toffs, bankers and multimillionaires at the expense of ordinary people and, in particular, public-sector workers.

As Polly Toynbee pointed out in the Guardian in December:

If politicians often come from private schools and well-heeled families, sadly that's not surprising. The 7 per cent of people emerging from private schools dominate disproportionately in top universities, the Bar, medicine, the City, journalism and any well-paid profession. But politics is not like other professions. Background becomes significant if people go into parliament and devote their lives to preserving the privileges of people like themselves. Osborne and Harriet Harman were both St Paul's pupils. The big difference is that she has spent her career trying to promote fairer life chances for those without her privileges, while Osborne and his fellow frontbench Etonians seem bent on defending theirs.

I tried to make a similar argument on the Moral Maze but Portillo wouldn't have any of it. He kept bellowing:

You think it's an important point.

Not just me, Mikey. In 2006, for example, even the Tory-supporting Sunday Times commented that "David Cameron has more Etonians around him than any leader since Macmillan" and asked whether he could "represent Britain from such a narrow base". Perhaps Portillo should read his own newspaper before getting worked up on the radio . . .

Overall, I have to say that the former defence secretary is a man who seems rather bitter about having failed to get the top job in the Tory party. He "joked" at the start of the show that his own personal issues had been an obstacle to his ambitions:

It hindered me, which is why I am now sitting around this table, of course, rather than being gainfully employed in government.

Towards the end, he remarked:

I happen to have been at a disadvantage in politics, not having had children . . .

Bitter, Michael, bitter . . .

On a side note, I'll probably get pilloried for saying this (hey, when has that stopped me before?), but I couldn't help but be annoyed at how I got such a rough ride from Portillo, including personal attacks on my own "personality", while the Tory witnesses (Dale and Pascoe-Watson) had such an easy time. You might think the former political editor of the Sun might have some tough questions to answer about the manner in which that newspaper has so debased, devalued, trivialised and undermined British politics in recent years (Monday's headline: "The Prime Monster"). Not on the "left-wing" BBC.

By the way, the most bizarre, ridiculous and conservative line of the night came not from Portillo or Phillips, nor from the host, Michael Buerk, but from the panellist Clifford Longley, the Catholic commentator and leader writer for the Tablet, on the subject of whether or not Cameron's Etonian background was of relevance to the politics of personality:

What do you make of it, though? Eton would claim to be a place where moral character is imparted. You might therefore put it to his credit that he's been in a place where character is taken very seriously and regarded very highly.

Damn those BBC pinko lefties and their hatred of public schools, eh? Long live Eton College!

Mehdi Hasan is a contributing writer for the New Statesman and the co-author of Ed: The Milibands and the Making of a Labour Leader. He was the New Statesman's senior editor (politics) from 2009-12.

Felipe Araujo
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Hull revisited: What happens when a Brexit stronghold becomes City of Culture?

We report from Hull, to find out if you can replace the kind of nostalgia that led to a Leave vote with cultural investment.

At 75 metres long, the offshore wind turbine blade erected across Queen Victoria Square, in the heart of Hull, is a sculpture intended to mark a new chapter in the city’s history. For the next 12 months, Hull, a city of more than a quarter of a million people in the northeast of England, will be the UK’s City of Culture.

The 28-tonne blade hails from the local Siemens plant. The German technology company employs around 1,000 people in the area, making it Hull’s biggest single employer.

Seen up close in this context – laid dormant in the middle of a town square instead of spinning up in the air generating energy – the structure is meant to remind passersby of a giant sea creature. It is also, I’m told, an allusion to Hull’s rich maritime history.


All photos: Felipe Araujo

Nostalgia is a big thing in this part of the country. At one point, Hull was the UK’s third largest port but technology and privatisation drastically changed that. The battle over cod fishing with Iceland in the waters of the North Sea 40 years ago has also dealt a major blow to a region with a long and proud trawling tradition.

People here still talk about a bygone era when the fishing industry provided jobs for everyone and there was enough money to go around.

Fast forward to 2017, and the country’s new capital of culture is the same city that voted 67 per cent in favour of leaving the EU last June. Its new-found prestige, it seems, is not enough to erase years of neglect by a political class “too busy for commoners like us”, as one resident puts it.

“More than a message to Brussels, it [the Brexit vote] was a message to Westminster,” Paul Leeson-Taylor, a filmmaker born and bred in Hull, tells me. “For the first time in a long time people in Hull felt like they had the chance to change something, and they took it.”

But while speaking to people on the high street and hanging out with locals at the Community Boxing Club in Orchard Park, one of the city’s most deprived areas, there is one word that consistently popped up in conversation – more than any specific policy from Westminster or the much-hated rules “dictated” by Brussels. Foreigners.

According to official figures, Hull’s population is 89.1 per cent white British. Still, immigration is big on people’s minds here.

During my two-day stay in the city, I find myself being the only black person in most places I visit – I’m certainly the only black guy at the boxing club. So when someone begins a sentence with “I’m not racist but…”, I know a tirade on immigrants is about to ensue.

“There are just too many of them,” Nick Beach, an estate agent whose Polish clientele is a big part of his business, tells me as he is about to teach a boxing class to local children. Beach was born in Shepherd’s Bush, in West London, but has been living in Hull for the last 20 years.

“When I go down there these days and go into Westfield shopping centre, it is very rare you get an English person serving you now,” he says. “I just find it disappointing that you go into your capital city and you are a minority there.”

These are the much-discussed “left behind”, a white working-class community that has gained particular prominence in a time of Brexit and Donald Trump. Under economic pressure and facing social change, they want to have their say in running a country they claim to no longer recognise.

For Professor Simon Lee, a senior politics lecturer at the University of Hull, immigration is only a superficial layer when it comes to explaining the resentment I witness here. For him, the loss of the empire 70 years ago is still something that as a country Britain hasn’t come to terms with.

“The reason for us to be together as a United Kingdom has gone, so what is the project?”

As destiny would have it, a foreign company will now play a major role on Hull’s economic future, at least in the short term. In the wake of the Brexit vote, there were widespread fears Siemens would pull out of the region and take its factory elsewhere. With the massive blade looming large in the background, Jason Speedy, director of the blade factory in Hull, assures me that isn’t the case.

“The Brexit decision has made no difference. We have made our investment decision, so Siemens, together with the Association of British Ports, has put in £310m. It’s all full steam ahead.”

As Hull becomes the country’s cultural hub for the next few months, the hope is that its residents stop looking back and start looking forward.

For Professor Lee, though, until there is a complete change in the power structures that run the country, the north-south divide will remain – with or without the EU. “The way you kill nostalgia is to have something new,” he said. “The reason why people here are nostalgic is because there is nothing to replace it with.”

Felipe Araujo is a freelance journalist based in London. He writes about race, culture and sports. He covered the Rio Olympics and Paralympics on the ground for the New Statesman. He tweets @felipethejourno.