What happens to politics after the Sun dies?

Whatever happened to “It’s the Sun wot won it”? Politicians of today need to forge a new relationshi

The night before the general election, a cry went up across blogs and Twitter when the Sun's front page was revealed: an illustration of David Cameron, in the style of the iconic blue-and-red image of Barack Obama, bearing the tagline: "Our only hope".

Within minutes, parodies started circulating and blogs started publishing them. By the next morning more than 50 new versions had been circulated and thousands of people had poked fun at the paper. Even the Tories admitted it was embarrassing. There was much contempt, naturally -- there always has been on the left for the tabloid -- but there was also dismissal of the Sun's previously feared influence.

This year's election was in fact notable for how little impact the tabloids had; the TV debates sucked up all the attention. But this isn't just a one-off. Tabloids have been declining for years and it's about time our political system started thinking beyond that world.

The Sun newspaper has always been at the forefront of this brash claim to political influence, most notably with its "It's the Sun wot won it" headline following Neil Kinnock's defeat in 1992. More recently its political editor, Tom Newton Dunn, was reported as saying: "It is my job to see that Cameron f***ing well gets into Downing Street," to a group of journalists, according to Rupert Murdoch's biographer Michael Wolff.

But a closer reading of the polls illustrates how difficult Newton Dunn's job actually was. The Sun decided to back the Tories in September 2009 when they were 12-16 points ahead in the polls. Six months later that lead had halved.

There were several other examples. In November 2009 the Sun reported that a handwritten letter from Gordon Brown to Jacqui Janes, the grieving mother of a British soldier slain in Afghanistan, was riddled with spelling errors. It hammered the PM as not caring enough for our troops.

And yet a little-reported poll a week later found that 65 per cent of voters thought the controversy was over the top and that the Sun had crossed a line. Astonishingly, roughly half said they were more likely to defend Brown because of the unfair coverage, with just 17 per cent inclined the other way.

"Bigotgate"

Gordon Brown's gaffe in calling a woman from Rochdale a "bigot" was also widely reported and was seen by many commentators as the end of the Brown campaign. But a poll later found that over 50 per cent of people agreed it had been a storm in a teacup, and that Brown was "simply trying to let off steam in private". Labour went on to retain its seat in Rochdale.

The press attacks in the same vein on Nick Clegg, too, faltered. The Daily Mail went as far as declaring that Clegg had made a "Nazi slur on Britain" and repeatedly referred to his foreign heritage. A poll later found most voters did not pay much attention to these stories; in fact, 15 per cent said it made them more likely to vote Liberal Democrat, while only 4 per cent said it made them less likely.

A week before the election, the Sunday Times pointed out the futility of tabloid rage at the Lib Dems. Nick Clegg's personal ratings had fallen by a negligible 2 points after weeks of sustained criticism in the press, and he was still almost as popular as Winston Churchill.

Ben Page, chief executive of the polling company Ipsos MORI, says measuring readers' voting intentions after newspaper endorsements offers an indication of their influence.

"In 2001, 57 per cent of Daily Mail readers said they intended to vote Tory while 22 per cent promised to vote Labour and 14 per cent Lib Dem. In 1997, despite the Mail calling for a Conservative victory, 29 per cent of its readers said they expected to vote Labour.

"The Sun's Labour support over three elections, in 1997, 2001 and 2005, did not shift as many votes away from the Tories as one might think, with 30 per cent, 29 per cent and 33 per cent of Sun readers saying they would vote Conservative."

Page says the press is not as powerful an agent as politicians seem to believe -- except in very close elections, and then only in marginal seats.

Andrew Hawkins of ComRes thinks the press attacks were ineffectual for two reasons. "First, people read the media that appeal to their existing political dispositions -- so the scope for influencing them is limited, as the media are preaching to the converted.

"Second, Labour and Conservative voters were solidly more reliable than Lib Dem supporters in terms of certainty to vote and settled choice of party throughout the campaign; they were simply less susceptible to negative messaging."

Weathervane, not the wind

It's highly unlikely the Sun can claim victory after an election ever again: its circulation has fallen 35 per cent since its peak of 4.7 million in the mid-Nineties.

A paper by John Curtice at Oxford University found that even in the late Eighties and mid-Nineties, "the net movement of voting preferences amongst the whole electorate was very similar to what happened amongst those who did not read a newspaper at all . . . When it comes to the outcome of elections, the disposition of the press does not make much difference at all."

He specifically looked at the impact of the Sun on Labour's 1997 victory and found that "the pattern of vote-switching during the campaign among readers of the Sun or any other ex-Tory newspaper proved to be much like that of those who did not read a newspaper at all."

As Peter Kellner of YouGov said recently, "Although the Sun newspaper is a great weathervane, it doesn't decide the direction of the wind."

New directions

New Labour's love affair with the tabloid press was an important part of Tony Blair's strategy to sanitise the public perception of the party. But if endorsements by the newspapers are no longer needed, what fills that gap?

During the 2008 US elections, Barack Obama's campaign skilfully used a mixture of social media and text-messaging to reach out to new voters. Its most powerful weapon, however, was a database of more than 13 million email addresses -- reaching voters in every corner of the country almost constantly.

That database not only micro-targeted subscribers based on their previous responses, but also offered them carefully honed messages that they were encouraged to take to their neighbours and colleagues.

Their success, according to the American political journalist Marc Ambinder, came from using "tried and tested old media marketing techniques and merg[ing] them with technology".

There is little doubt that the future of British politics lies in that direction. Campaign groups such as 38 Degrees use only emails to inform and mobilise thousands of people; political flashmobs and demonstrations are organised via Facebook and Twitter almost every day; blogs such as Liberal Conspiracy now get more than 100,000 readers a month. A new world of political campaigning outside of Westminster rules is springing up.

The British commentator and blogger Anthony Painter says political parties here need to create new spaces for political dialogue and engagement if they want to reach voters directly via the web. "New media invert the flow of communication between elites and us all," he says. "If elites do not relinquish control, then they will be ignored."

Politicians will have to start joining conversations that are already happening, he says, on websites such as Mumsnet and other spaces. And that has an impact: "Retail politics will increasingly be replaced by conversational politics."

Tech fixes

While that conversation is taking place all over the web -- especially on the behemoths Facebook and Twitter -- the trick for politicos is to harness that technology to help them.

After all, what is the point of simply engaging in idle chatter?

To a certain extent, both Labour and the Conservatives made forays into leveraging technology for political gain. The Conservatives launched a website that allowed activists to self-organise and raise funds for candidates they liked.

Labour concentrated on honing its sophisticated "Contact Creator" database of supporters, which was then used to launch a "virtual phonebank" whereby individual supporters could download lists of names from the website and contact waverers to urge them to vote Labour.

However, there are some people who think that the new political climate could increase the power of the press. Andrew Hawkins of ComRes says: "There are numerous issues over which Lib Dems and Tories have the potential to fall out. The media will be looking for ways to drive wedges between them which will inevitably increase their influence."

As the Telegraph's revelations about David Laws's personal life and financial arrangements show, there's life in the old dog yet. But the press circulation trend is still downward, while social media continue to grow phenomenally.

The challenge now is for our politics and politicians to find a way of adjusting to the new reality.

Sunny Hundal is the editor of Liberal Conspiracy and tweets here.

Sunny Hundal is editor of Liberal Conspiracy.

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It's easy to see where Berlin is being rebuilt – just hit the streets

My week, from walking the streets of Berlin to class snobbery and the right kind of gentrification.

Brick by brick, block by block, the people are rebuilding the city once called Faust’s Metropolis. To see it clearly, put your boots on. One of the most bracing walks starts by the Gethsemane Church, which served as a haven for dissenters in the last days of the GDR and takes you down ­towards the Hackescher Markt.

Here, in what is still the eastern half of a divided city that wears its division more lightly, is a Berlin experience both old and new. In three decades of frequent visits, it has been fascinating to note how much this part of town has changed. Even a decade ago these streets were rundown. With crumbling buildings showing bulletholes, it wasn’t hard to imagine what the place looked like in 1945. Now there are lilacs, blues, and yellows. Cafés, bars and restaurants abound, serving the young professionals attracted to the city by cheap rents and a renewed sense of community.

 

Breaking the fourth wall

Looking north along Schliemannstraße, you’ll find a delightful vista of well-tended balconies. It’s a pleasant place to live, notwithstanding the gaggle of grotesques who gather round the corner in the square. On Kastanienallee, which forms the second leg of the walk, an old city feels young. It’s a kind of gentrification but the right kind. There’s more to eat, to drink, to buy, for all.

Berlin, where Bertolt Brecht staged his unwatchable plays, was supposed to have been transformed by a proletarian revolution. Instead, it has been restored to health by a very middle-class one. Germany has always had a well-educated middle class, and the nation’s restoration would have impossible without such people. The irony is delicious – not that irony buttered many parsnips for “dirty Bertie”.

 

The new snobbery

The British Museum’s survey of German history “Memories of a Nation” is being presented at the Martin-Gropius-Bau as “The British View”. Germans, natürlich, are curious to see how we observe them. But how do they see us?

A German friend recently in England  said that the images that struck him most forcibly were the tins of food and cheap booze people piled up in supermarkets, and the number of teenage girls pushing prams. Perhaps Neil MacGregor, the former director of the British Museum who will shortly take up a similar role here at the new Humboldt Forum, may turn his attention to a “German View” of the United Kingdom.

There’s no shortage of material. In Schlawinchen, a bar that typifies Kreuzberg’s hobohemia, a college-educated English girl was trying to explain northern England to an American she had just met. Speaking in an ugly modern Mancunian voice that can only be acquired through years of practice (sugar pronounced as “sug-oar”), she refer­red to Durham and York as “middle class, you know, posh”, because those cities had magnificent cathedrals.

When it comes to inverted snobbery, no nation can match us. To be middle class in Germany is an indication of civic value. In modern England, it can mark you as a leper.

 

Culture vultures

The Humboldt Forum, taking shape by the banks of the Spree, reconsecrates the former site of the GDR’s Palace of the Republic. When it opens in 2018 it will be a “living exhibition”, dedicated to all the cultures of the world. Alexander von Humboldt, the naturalist and explorer, was the brother of Wilhelm, the diplomat and philosopher, whose name lives on in the nearby university.

In Potsdamerplatz there are plans to build a modern art museum, crammed in between the Neue Nationalgalerie and the Philharmonie, home to the Berlin Philharmonic. Meanwhile, the overhaul of the Deutsche Staatsoper, where Daniel Barenboim is music director for life, is likely to be completed, fingers crossed, next autumn.

Culture everywhere! Or perhaps that should be Kultur, which has a slightly different meaning in Germany. They take these things more seriously, and there is no hint of bogus populism. In London, plans for a new concert hall have been shelved. Sir Peter Hall’s words remain true: “England is a philistine country that loves the arts.”

 

European neighbours

When Germans speak of freedom, wrote A J P Taylor, a historian who seems to have fallen from favour, they mean the freedom to be German. No longer. When modern Germans speak of freedom, they observe it through the filter of the European Union.

But nation states are shaped by different forces. “We are educated to be obedient,” a Berlin friend who spent a year at an English school once told me. “You are educated to be independent.” To turn around Taylor’s dictum: when the English speak of freedom,
they mean the freedom to be English.

No matter what you may have heard, the Germans have always admired our independence of spirit. We shall, however, always see “Europe” in different ways. Europe, good: we can all agree on that. The European Union, not so good. It doesn’t mean we have to fall out, and the Germans are good friends to have.

 

Hook, line and sinker

There are fine walks to be had in the west, too. In Charlottenburg, the Kensington of Berlin, the mood is gentler, yet you can still feel the city humming. Here, there are some classic places to eat and drink – the Literaturhauscafé for breakfast and, for dinner, Marjellchen, a treasure trove of east Prussian forest delights. Anything that can be shot and put in a pot!

For a real Berlin experience, though, head at nightfall for Zwiebelfisch, the great tavern on Savignyplatz, and watch the trains glide by on the other side of Kantstraße. Hartmut Volmerhaus, a most amusing host, has been the guvnor here for more than 30 years and there are no signs that his race is run. The “Fisch” at twilight: there’s nowhere better to feel the pulse of this remarkable city. 

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage