So here we are. Bloody again.
I’ve voted in every single election I’ve been able to in my adult life; every local, mayoral, national and European election for over a decade. Of those many, many elections, I think I’ve been able to cast a willing and meaningful vote – voting for someone I truly wanted to win, in an election where my vote stood a chance of making a difference – three times. The rest of the time, either the fear of a Tory victory has sent me reluctantly trudging back to a Labour party I’ve spent a decade trying, and mostly failing, to believe in; or, being in a seat with no chance of changing hands, I’ve switched to the Lib Dems or Greens in an attempt to “send a message” to Labour. A message that’s had all the effectiveness of tattooing a manifesto on the inside of your own eyelids.
Given that I was utterly dreading the grim death march this election promised to be – to the extent that for the sake of my sanity I considered simply deciding that any time anyone talked about the election, I would assume they were talking about the upcoming presidential elections in the Philippines, and ignore it – I was caught unexpectedly on the hop by the fact that I actually found myself being tentatively drawn into the whirling vortex of Cleggmania that ensued (and also, perhaps even more so, to the accompanying Dr Evan Harris Love-In that broke out across large sections of the geekosphere.)
I’m by no means blind to the Lib Dems’ flaws. I worked in Parliament for a Lib Dem MP for the best part of a year (while never being a member of the party, and indeed having a thoroughly good time trying to scare the locals by playing the bolshy socialist). So I have both a natural residual affection for the party, but also an awareness that the party can be an ideologically unstable mixture of cuddly, progressive centre-left types mixed in with a fair number of people who can best be described as “Tories who weren’t big enough bastards”. (See the Lord Clement-Jones led cock-up over the web blocking amendment to the Digital Economy Bill in the Lords for a real-life example of this tension at play.)
I also don’t deny that the Liberal Democrats suffer from a lack of what football pundits tediously refer to as “strength in depth”. They’ve got a decent first team, but when you look at the subs’ bench you start noticing that it’s packed with teenagers and players you thought were actually dead. They undeniably have their fair share of (to use Caitlin Moran’s excellent phrase) “the Curly Wurly thinkers”. But when you consider that Labour found a steady stream of senior positions for Geoff Hoon – a man with the character traits and skill set of a vindictive marshmallow – while the Conservative shadow cabinet boasts such reliable tits as Chris Grayling and Jeremy Hunt, it’s not like any party really wants to go round swinging their “look at what a deep pool of talent we’ve got” dick.
So yes. I worry about the Orange Book tendency of the Lib Dems, and Nick Clegg’s part in it. I worry that they’ll not have the strategic nous to navigate a hung parliament without giving the Tories everything on a plate. I worry that a lot of previously ignored Lib Dem MPs will suddenly find themselves being taken out to some very nice restaurants by some very nice lobbyists who have very plausible-sounding cases to put forward, and – being human – will get suckered in. And yes, I worry that Chris Huhne and David Laws might actually be aliens.
But I like the idea of there being a genuine third force in British politics. I like the idea of a parliament where politicians actually have to talk to each other, rather than just jeer across the aisles. I like the idea that regardless of the situation in my constituency, my vote will have meaning on a national scale as a clear signal that we need a fairer voting system. I like the idea of a party that opposes renewing Trident, that wants fairer taxes, that adopts a realistic and compassionate approach to immigration, that is full-throated in its defence of science and evidence-based policy, that doesn’t support illegal wars, that backs repealing the Digital Economy Act, that is in favour of European integration, that opposes ID cards and supports civil liberties, and that – yes – demands urgent electoral reform, and I’m frankly baffled that it’s not the Labour party I’m talking about there. I think a Prime Minister who speaks fluent Dutch would be pretty neat.
In terms of a Venn diagram charting the extent to which I agree with Nick, this:
And yet, here I am, writing this post at stupid o’clock on the morning of the election, and I still don’t know who I’m going to vote for. That’s because my constituency of Poplar & Limehouse is a Labour-held Tory target, and a combination of boundary changes and demographic shifts over the past five years – plus a dash of the inevitable George Galloway sideshow – have put the seat firmly in play. I look at my MP’s voting record, and it reads like a greatest hits setlist of New Labour’s biggest fuckups. I desperately don’t want yet another five years where Labour can abandon principle after principle, safe in the knowledge that no matter what, the prospect of something worse will always send me scurrying back. And yet, as the polls swing rightwards in the last few days, every other consideration starts to become dwarfed by that tiny, nagging possibility that it’ll be my one crucial vote that gives the Tories that one crucial seat, and…
It’s become a tired, arrogant tactic, Labour using the Tory bogeyman to scare us into excusing their failures. But I’m still checking under my bed to see if George Osborne’s hiding there.
So, I still don’t know how I’m going to vote today. But I strongly suspect that regardless, once the counting’s done, and the tears, beer and ink stains have all been wiped clean, my first action will be to send some money the way of the Electoral Reform Society. Because, quite frankly, I don’t ever want to have to go through this bullshit again.
