A guide to alienating the nation, by the House of Commons

“The Mother of Parliaments” is a phrase sometimes used to describe the House of Commons. It was actually coined to refer to something else and anyway, at the moment, a more accurate description of that part of Westminster could be “The Mother of Expense Accounts”.

Yes, this has been a pretty awful week for the reputations of British politicians and our political institutions. The scandal of MPs’ expenses has been the elephant in the room for a while now and it finally started trumpeting loudly from the moment that the Telegraph published the first instalment of the leaked information it had acquired.

I won’t repeat the details here – there’s too much of it and it leaves such a bad taste that I’m not going to waste my energy. The point is that the sleaze that in the past tended to be associated with one party at a time, has on this occasion tainted them all. Each of the three main parties has culprits among its MPs. Collectively, the British public has witnessed this story develop with disgust (though interestingly I have not detected much surprise in the voxpops I have seen and heard) and has decided that politicians are collectively corrupt. That label can be added to all of the other less than flattering terms that we use to refer to them.

This really is not good and on this I have to take issue with Stephen Fry, much though I agree with some of his comments on the matter. Mr Fry is absolutely correct to point out that we should in general be more concerned with the macro political decisions that our MPs get right or wrong. However, although this whole brouhaha may be of little consequence in the broader context of war, poverty, health, education and global economic meltdown, I fear that the long term fall out could be profound and seriously harm engagement with our political system.

While the truth is that a large number of MPs have nothing to be ashamed of, they are all now well and truly tarred with the same brush (the cost of which was claimed back as it was used to creosote a garden fence at the second home of an unnamed backbencher). The consequences are going to be far reaching and their impact extends well beyond Westminster and the changes that will have to be made there.

We are privileged to live in a democracy and we can choose who governs at pretty much every level of our society. The problem is that more and more people are voting with their feet, rather than with a ballot paper. Since 1992, turnout in General Elections has dropped from 77% to 61% in 2005 (with a record post war low of 59% in 2001).

What can we expect next time? Younger voters are already disinterested in politics, while people who have consistently voted throughout their adult lives are disillusioned. I know – I’ve spoken to them (and they include my parents). Will the public be inspired by their French counterparts and take to the streets in a more concerted campaign of direct action? Will parties from the far right and far left benefit from the public belief that the centre is rotten (the imminent local and European elections will be an intriguing bellwether)? More questions than answers from me I’m afraid.

Meanwhile, how appealing is a career in politics today? MPs used to be among the most respected members of a community – not now. It was accepted that they worked to serve the public and lived by a political doctrine that was in fact a calling (okay, I know this was not a universal state of affairs, but I hope you take my point). Today, they are perceived to serve (and help) themselves.

Young people who are already unimpressed and uninterested in politics are becoming even more disengaged and dismissive. So far, the UK has not benefited from an Obama lightning rod, and our politicians appear to more disconnected from ‘real’ society than ever. I really worry about the future make up of Parliament in the UK, and if that institution is compromised further, the cascade to all levels of Government will inevitably happen and the effects could be disastrous.

But I am a glass half full person and I still know many good people for whom politics is a real vocation; people who hold genuine, fervent political beliefs and who strive for office for the ‘right’ reasons.

My eldest son’s godfather, Ed Fordham, is one of them, and he is not alone. There are many others from across the political spectrum and they give me hope. But their job is going to be significantly more difficult thanks to the greed and, in my opinion, stupidity of some of the current crop of MPs. And Ed is my age (late 30s), so what about the generation after him, and his colleagues and opponents of a similar vintage? Someone reassure me that they will emerge. Please. Here's Ed expressing his views on the expenses saga, 27 minutes and 28 seconds into this episode of Newsnight.

I am a layperson when it comes to politics, but that makes me no less passionate than the ‘professionals’ about what Aristotle described as the most authoritative science. According to Aristotle, politics governs the other sciences and their ends serve to meet its end, which is nothing less than the human good. Here in the UK at the moment, the science of politics feels a lot less dignified and worthy than that. I hope that will change for the better again soon.

http://twitter.com/chrisjlines

"Brian Clough - football genius!"

Yes, I'm still thinking about Brian Clough, but this time I've been recalling the second occasion I met him, in 1994. For me, the events later that same evening, following our brief handshake, demonstrate once again why Mr. Clough had 'it' in spades, whatever 'it' may be. More of that below.

Brian Clough (who would have turned 74 yesterday) left Leeds United in September 1974 and four months later took up residence down the M1 at unfashionable Nottingham Forest (at the time sitting 13th in the second tier of English football). By May 1980, Forest had won two League Cups, the English League Championship and, most famously, two successive European Cups. I’m a Forest fan so I am biased, but I think it’s the most remarkable story in club football.

Of course, Brian Clough is the reason I am a Forest fan. Growing up in Sedgefield, County Durham, the vast majority of my friends followed one of the North East clubs, but at a young age I was seduced by Mr. Clough’s Nottingham Forest. And it was my support of Forest that eventually led to me choosing to study at the University of Nottingham.

I ended up living in Nottingham for almost five years. It seemed that most people from the city at that time had a Brian Clough story of their own. I am sure that most of these were apocryphal, exaggerated or plain fiction. I have one and it’s absolutely true (I would say that of course, but it really is!).

By early 1994, I was an elected sabbatical officer of the University of Nottingham Union (now called University of Nottingham Students’ Union). A big part of the organisation was the Athletic Union (AU) and each year they held a black tie/posh frocks ball. Many hundreds of students attended this event, representing all sorts of sports and outdoor activities. On this occasion, the AU decided to invite Brian Clough as guest of honour. Mr. Clough had retired at the end of the previous season and it was widely believed (if not confirmed) that he was drinking heavily and not a well man. Therefore, the guest of honour invitation was very deliberately not a speaking engagement.

I briefly met the guest of honour at the pre-dinner reception and I have to say he did indeed not look or sound well. Then everyone sat down for their meal. During the subsequent coffee and mints, the AU president got up on his hind legs and went through the formalities. He welcomed Brian Clough OBE, at which point Mr. Clough rose to his feet to say a few words. No-one was about to stop him, but equally no-one relished the prospect. The microphone was passed along the top table to Mr. Clough and he started to speak. He stated that he was happy that he had retired, as that meant he could spend more time with his grandchildren (a standard Brian Clough soundbite at the time).

Before he could utter anything else, a voice at the back of room called out: “Brian Clough – football genius!” Within seconds, the whole room had taken up the chant. This continued for what seemed like five minutes. Throughout, students were standing up at the various tables dotted around the room, but at the top table, only one figure was upright – Brian Clough.

Eventually, the chanting subsided, the students sat down and the room was completely quiet. Brian Clough slowly raised his head, looked around at the hundreds of expectant faces and said: “Tell me something I don’t know.”

The man was not perfect (who is?), but he was indeed “Brian Clough – football genius” – though that doesn’t tell the half of it.

I often wonder where I would be now if I hadn’t fallen for Brian Clough and Nottingham Forest in the late 1970s. I possibly wouldn’t have gravitated towards Nottingham University, or got involved in student politics and communications, or met Ed Fordham (now Godfather to my oldest son), or ended up working for Lynne Franks PR in London, or so on and so forth. And had the Leeds United hierarchy stuck with Mr. Clough, would I now be dreaming of my next pilgrimage to Elland Road rather than the City Ground? That last thought really makes me shudder!

I’ll sign off with another Brian Clough gem: “They say Rome wasn't built in a day, but I wasn't on that particular job." Which reminds me, I’d better get back to work.