Obliterating the opposition has been Gordon Brown's first priority since assuming power. He has achieved spectacular results. David Cameron's Conservatives have floundered amid mounting acrimony and falling poll ratings. The Liberal Democrats' gathering by the seaside has been dominated by whispers about Menzies Campbell's leadership. A master strategist, the Prime Minister has used every opportunity to play to his opponents' weaknesses, bringing some figures into the tent and taking tea with others. This is all very clever, if domination is your only goal. But where does it leave the state of our politics?

If there is consensus on any issue, it is that public confidence and participation in conventional politics has never been so low. The rate of decline may have slowed as a result of Tony Blair's resignation, but the long-term trend is established. Brown realises this; indeed, his plans for constitutional reform are based on an understanding of the pressing need for re-engagement. Citizens' juries and other efforts to involve the public stem from this.

These are welcome developments. It will not do for politicians or commentators to deride public involvement as "populist". Although the principle is good, what about the practice? Who does the selecting? How are meetings conducted? What effect will they have on those running the country (or the locality)? Many past consultations have been manipulated for the purposes of those in power. Many people involved in protesting at planning decisions can attest to that. On a bigger scale, whatever happened to Blair's announcement of a "consultation" over the decision to renew Britain's Trident nuclear arsenal? Everyone knew at the time that this was a sham, a smokescreen for a decision already taken.

As our political editor points out on page 10, it is not the fact of participation that counts, but the effect of that participation. Discontent will only grow if voters believe that they are being used to provide an imprimatur or to enhance the status of one political party as representing the consensus, to the exclusion of others. While turnout has declined in recent elections, evidence suggests that voters still see parliamentary democracy as the main vehicle for representing their interests.

The problem is that no single party can encapsulate voters' often mixed and contradictory views. Even if they did, those parties - as opposed to the executive - are extremely weak. Parliament should be reinforced, not circumvented. Brown accepts part of this argument, and his determination to ensure that MPs, and not the morning papers or radio shows, hear announcements first has been admirable. But parliament's authority must be bolstered. First in any constitutional change must be to give select committees statutory powers to subpoena ministers and to make their findings binding on government.

What of the parties themselves? Labour membership is at a historic low (though marginally up, to be precise, because a few thousand people joined so as to have a vote in the deputy leadership poll in June). The mood at Bournemouth will be a mixture of goodwill towards Brown and fury among the unions, which see their only remaining conference power - of tabling contemporary resolutions criticising the government - being eroded just as public sector workers are awarded below-inflation pay rises. They are right to see themselves as more than a cash cow; they are right to be sceptical about assurances that they will have a major role in policy forum debates outside conference.

Brown has every reason to want to steal a march on the opposition, particularly as he seeks to deal with crises from all directions, from economic turmoil, terrorism and industrial action to foot-and-mouth and disasters arising from climate change. He is right to identify politics as broader than political parties; we have been saying that for years. But if a government sees its ultimate purpose as to get its legislation through and holding on to power, come what may, rather than to listen harder to those who put it in office in the first place, then its claims to a new politics mean nothing. There is a big and welcoming tent, but it stands closer to home.

The accident of accent

Waking up after brain surgery, a Yorkshire boy found his speech transformed into what the papers referred to as "posh" English. At one time this might have been regarded as good fortune; today most would consider it a calamity to be robbed of a non-RP accent.

The way we speak still locates us in class and area. Rightly or wrongly, we feel it even indicates character. Would the accusations of slickness and toffery be levelled so easily at David Cameron if his OE vowels were replaced by a Geordie brogue (in which case he could pass as a close relation of the equally slick Alan Milburn)?

Gordon Brown's gruff tones would sound far less reassuring if the brooding Scots was replaced with a West Country burr. Sad to say, it is unlikely that anyone could take him seriously at all should he then hold forth on the subject of farm subsidies or - heaven help us - exports of Cornish clotted cream.

His countryman Menzies Campbell would lose his reputation for gravitas at a stroke, were his speech to adopt the camp lilt of the late John Inman; but the gravelly cockney of Sid James would at least give his party some much-needed laughs.

In some cases it could help. Unionist MPs would have a warmer reception in Britain if the Ulster granite softened into melodic Welsh. And the republican movement would be dealt a terrible blow if, instead of Prince Charles's strangulated mumbles, the heir to the throne were to start speaking in a rich Jamaican drawl.

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