And another thing…

HAS DAVID Cameron or his advisers ever stopped to ask themselves why, exactly, he’s not seen as a trustworthy person by a large number of voters?

Today’s vacuous nonsense is a perfect example of why he’s still not taken seriously as a potential Prime Minister; his remarks about Gordon Brown and the MPs (and Tory peer) charged over their expenses could have been drafted by Sarah Palin’s nanny speechwriter.

I know of no-one – the Prime Minister included – who approves of the attempt to use parliamentary privilege to escape prosecution. The issue of privilege in general is one that is of great concern and interest and should be publicly debated. But I don’t think it’s appropriate for politicians, let alone the Prime Minister himself, to seek to interfere in a criminal case that is currently active.

What’s more, the final decision as to whether the accused individuals are able to resort to privilege is not a political decision to be made by ministers; it is a legal one to be decided by the courts, one that must be taken in accordance with statute as it existed at the time of the alleged offences.

So should we be surprised that Cameron, under pressure from his own party because of the recent narrowing of the poll gap and his poor performances at PMQs, has resorted to this kind of desperate tactic? Of course not. None of the parties has emerged well from the expenses scandal, but Cameron obviously believes that a narrative of “a plague on all your houses” might be converted to “this happened on Labour’s watch” so long as he affects a tone of wounded outrage and indignation, implausible and unjustified thought that may be.

THERE are (too) many people who view Malcolm Tucker, the foul-mouthed, bullying spin-doctor of The Thick Of It, as identical in almost every way to Alastair Campbell, on whom the fictional character is allegedly based.

So deeply is their conviction that when Campbell seemed to break down momentarily on The Andrew Marr Show, he was accused of a clumsy attempt at audience manipulation.

I’ve only ever met Campbell on a few occasions, but was convinced each time that here was an entirely sincere and intelligent, if combative, individual with a fierce devotion to the Labour Party. He’s also someone who I don’t believe would offer his devotion and loyalty to anyone without good cause. His loyalty to Tony Blair was based on many years working closely with the former Prime Minister; Campbell judged that he was someone who deserved that loyalty.

Yet loyalty is only a part of the reason why Campbell continues to defend him. He genuinely believes that he and Blair acted honestly, courageously, honourably and in good faith.

It would be even more surprising if Campbell didn’t occasionally buckle under the tremendous pressure he has been subjected to over the years by a small section of the public and the great majority of the media.

His critics’ dismissal of Campbell’s “moment” as dishonest cynicism betrays not just their own lack of humanity, but their complete lack of human understanding.

THERE was a debate on Wednesday in Westminster Hall on the subject of “Accountability of Returning Officers”.

Why the odd title when most people present wanted to talk simply about their desire to have votes in the General Election counted as soon as possible after the polls closed instead of having to wait until Friday? The title was my idea, and a number of MPs submitted a request for a debate with the same title. “Save General Election Night” would not have been deemed an admissible title for a debate, since all debates must be within the remit of the government and a minister has to respond at the end to state the government’s position. “Accountability of Returning Officers”, on the other hand, is clearly a matter on which the Ministry of Justice have a responsibility (it could quite easily and justifiably have been called “Lack of Accountability of Returning Officers”).

David Cairns, the MP for Inverclyde, was chosen to sponsor the 90-minute debate so spoke first, followed by Eric Pickles and then me. You can read the whole debate here or watch it here. Here’s my bit. No doubt you’ll be amused by the fact that the BBC describe me initially as “Evan Harris, LibDem, Oxford  West & Abingdon” before correcting themselves a couple of minutes in. I expect he would be offended as I was.

A REGULAR commenter, an SNP supporter, recently criticised his (Labour) MP for having served as a councillor in another part of the country before being elected as MP in the constituency where he was born and raised.

The implication was all too evident: if you’ve ever lived or worked outside a constituency, your legitimacy as a potential representative is suspect. It reminds me of a joke on a panel show recently, where a resident of Cornwall was forever known to the community as “the Traveller” because he had once visited London. (On a supplementary and entertaining note, this same commentator once claimed in a thread that he was a “thorn in the side” of his MP. When I asked my colleague if this was true, he had no idea who I was talking about.)

You come across this nonsense a lot: only someone who has lived in a constituency all his life is deemed suitable as its MP. All other qualifications – political beliefs, ability to string a sentence together, personal honesty, track record of commitment to the party – are of less importance than the shining, glorious Holy Grail of having a politically correct postcode.

Certainly, if the choice is between two candidates who are broadly equal in terms of ability and experience, then the local person (if there is one) would have an understandable advantage. But it’s hardly the most important qualification. And when a local candidate is roundly beaten in a fair and open democratic vote, then local members obviously agree.

"This is a LOCAL constituency, for LOCAL candidates..."

I HEAR that a Sunday Telegraph poll tomorrow will confirm the recent trend of predicting a hung parliament.

In many respects, this is good news for Labour, following so many months when our complete electoral obliteration was being predicted. Nevertheless, my blood runs cold at the very thought of a hung parliament, whoever is the largest party. The temptation and the pressure to begin horse-trading with the minority parties would be immense. And in the event of “negotiations” between the LibDems and either Labour or the Conservatives,  the party manifestos would be unceremoniously binned in favour of whatever lowest common denominators could be salvaged from the talks.

There have always been plenty “comrades” whose sole reason for campaigning to get Labour back into power after 18 years of opposition seemed to be in order to give that power away to the minor parties. They wouldn’t even need the excuse of a hung parliament to enter a coalition with the Liberals if they got the chance.

Those unfamiliar with the situation when Labour and the LibDems formed a coalition government at Holyrood should also acquaint themselves with the phrase “the tail wagging the dog”. Because that’s how democratic whatever form of proportional representation forced on the country by the Liberals would be: the party that came third dictating to the biggest party – and the whole country – how it should govern.

Things seem to be moving Labour’s way, and for me (and for the whole of the country, believe me) the best outcome will be a Labour overall majority. But if that were not achieved (and let me make it clear: I still think it can be) then it’s important that whichever party formed a minority government isn’t forced, through threats of votes of confidence by the main opposition party, into bed with Clegg (31 is an uneven number, after all – Ba-boom! I’m here all week…)

ODDLY, the most recent General Election is the one of which I have fewest recollections.

The whole campaign, from what I recall, plodded along rather predictably. The only visual “moment” from the national campaign I can think of was of Tony Blair giving Gordon an ice cream cone. Hardly the Prescott punch or Sharron Storer moment.

In Glasgow, I was fighting for the new seat of Glasgow South, Cathcart having been consigned to history by the recent boundary review (although the Holyrood seat retains the name). There was a good, rather than excited, atmosphere in the campaign rooms – a former café on Clarkston Road, directly opposite my constituency offices. Every day we would arrive early, push up the metal shutters and wait for the inevitable trickle of constituents – both supportive and hostile – to begin. And every day I would print off a new number and display it in the shop window: the countdown to polling day. This was as much a reminder to activists as voters as to how long we had to complete the tasks of labelling, postering and canvassing we had set ourselves. (And I’ve just remembered that 2005 was the last General Election when candidates in Glasgow could attach posters to lamposts; the council have since banned it, to a mixed response from party activists.)

Despite expectations that Iraq would feature heavily in the campaign, I don’t remember that being the case at grassroots level. It was certainly raised on the doorstep, many times. But most voters for whom Iraq was a barrier to voting Labour were, for the most part, unfailingly polite. And when I asked them how they had previously voted, many of them turned out not to be Labour voters in the first place.

It’s a fact that time goes at a fraction of normal speed during election campaigns – well, if you’re a candidate, anyway. So it took about just under two years from the start of the campaign for polling day to arrive. That was hectic, as usual. I was picked up first thing by my campaign manager and taken to the polling station at the end of my road to cast my vote (and no, I’m not telling you who I voted for – it’s a secret ballot). The previous election, when I was first elected, Carolyn came with me to vote and a press photographer captured the moment for posterity. This time round, however, Carolyn was having to balance work and motherhood, so I voted alone.

Over the long day (about 52 hours, give or take) I tried to visit every polling place in the constituency and exchanged a few words with the tellers and the activists (of all parties) standing outside. There’s always a sense of tense calm on polling day itself, an awareness that the arguments are done and dusted, there’s nothing more to be done except await the voters’ verdict. So there’s little point in falling out with your opponents by then.

It was obvious that the LibDems were making a big effort among the substantial Muslim electorate in Glasgow South, exploiting their highly principled* position on Iraq. And I wasn’t surprised to discover later, at the count, that they had leapfrogged the nationalists to come second.

On BBC1 at ten o’clock, David Dimbleby revealed the exit poll prediction: a Labour majority of just 66 seats. I raised an eyebrow; lower than I had expected. But maybe our majority was being underestimated? It turned out not. At eleven, Carolyn and I left the house and met my election team at Queen’s Park Football Club and a small fleet of vehicles headed to the Scottish Exhibition and Conference Centre for the count.

Ah, yes – the count… In 2001, Cathcart had been counted last of the nine Glasgow seats and Carolyn and I had been very, very late to bed. And so it proved omce more four years later. It was after three in the morning before the Returning Officer called all the candidates together to show us the spoiled ballot papers and to read us the result. I was relieved that my majority had held above the 10,000 mark, although in per centage term it was slightly down on 2001. The LibDem candidate was actually the first person I met that night who told me, quite authoritatively, that I had won.

All I remember about the actual announcement of my result was being accosted by three or four reporters as I walked down from the platform immediately afterwards and asked whether or not I thought Tony Blair should resign. Well, of course he should! After all, he surely had to be punished for leading Labour to a third election victory in a row! The b*****d…

I had always believed that Tony’s announcement in 2004 that he would lead the party into one more Genereal Election and then serve a full term before stepping down was a mistake; the frenzied media speculation which began at 10.00 pm on polling day was entirely predictable.

Tired to the point of exhaustion, Carolyn and I headed back to the social club at Queen’s Park where we were just in time to see Galloway’s victory over Oona King in Bethnal Green. Then, a moron from a neighbouring Constituency Labour Party who, shall we say, had faced some difficulty in reconciling his own views on Iraq with the government’s, called me a fascist. Comradeship, eh? But I was too tired to make a big deal of it. Instead, after one drink, we headed home.

As we got ready for bed, I noticed I had received a voicemail from Jim Knight, who was defending a majority of 153 in South Dorset. He was calling with the happy news that, against the odds, he had increased that to 1812. That was a nice note on which finally to go to sleep.

* yeah, right…

Next instalment: 1983

OKAY, I admit it – I’ve been itching to use that headline for months.

HAD lunch this afternoon with a friend who also happens to be a journalist on a national newspaper (you see the important distinction?) and he was recounting his experiences reporting from Conservative annual conferences.

One year, when the Tories had their jamboree at Blackpool (this was during the unhappy reign of IDS as leader), after many hours in the conference hotel bar getting terminally blootered researching for future stories and developing his network of contacts, he poured himself into a taxi and returned to Mrs Pettifor’s Luxury Towerview B&B, or wherever it was he was staying.

The next morning he awoke and found the receipt given him by his taxi driver the night before. It had been completed in immaculate, careful handwriting: departure address, location address, the time the journey took place and, of course, the cost. My friend was so impressed by the workmanship practised by the taxi driver that he turned the card over to see if there were any more examples of this calligraphy.

And indeed there was: “You’re going to lose the next election, Tory Boy!”

SCOTTISH Labour MPs this afternoon received an email containing a news release issued by the party headlined: “Scottish Labour MEP lobbies Congress to lift ban on haggis”.

David Cairns, MP for Inverclyde, promptly hit the “reply” button and wrote: “Finally, some proper news!”

Four haggises - or "haggi" - yesterday.

UNUSUALLY, I found myself shouting at a co-panellist on The Westminster Hour on Sunday evening. In my defence, the co-panellist in question was Caroline Lucas.

The Green MEP and I were discussing the issue of climate change sceptics (I refuse to call them “deniers”) and the stupidity of scientists who undermine their own credibility by exaggerating the effects of climate change in order to create a headline or to scare politicians into action. The scientific basis for man-made climate change is already overwhelming; why undermine it by making ridiculous claims about the Himilayan glaciers melting in 35 years’ time when you know it not to be the case?

One of the exaggerated claims which I have found unhelpful in the past was Caroline’s, which she made during The Westminster Hour last July:

Climate change is killing 300,000 people every year, according to the latest UN report.

But two days ago, when I quoted this as an example of the same kind of scare-mongering, she responded:

I knew there were climate change sceptics in the Conservative Party. I didn’t realize there were quite so many climate sceptics (sic) in the Labour Party.

This is a very typical Green smear: accuse anybody who casts doubt on any apocalyptic predictions as a sceptic. That way, you can close down any debate without having to talk about the scientific facts, even though the International Panel on Climate Change has admitted that one of its predictions was untrue,

For a party which claims to put the environment at the top of its agenda, this is crazy. The public have to be persuaded to accept the scientific case for the causes – and cures – of climate change, not scared into accepting it by “facts” which turn out not to be facts at all.

The 300,000 figure Caroline had quoted previously is a case in point. It’s taken from the Human Impact report of the Global Humanitarium Forum, published last year. And it does indeed state quite unambiguously that:

every year climate change leaves over 300,000 people dead…

Case closed. Game, set and match to Lucas.

Except that, a little further on in the report, there’s this:

The human impact is still difficult to assess with great accuracy because it results from a complex interplay of factors. It is challenging to isolate the human impact of climate change definitively from other factors such as natural variability, population growth, land use and governance. In several areas, the base of scientific evidence is still not sufficient to make definitive estimates with great precision on the human impacts of climate change.

Recognizing that the real numbers may be significantly lower or higher than suggested by these estimates, they should be treated as indicative rather than definitive. (my emphasis)

Yet, listening to Caroline back in July, I got the distinct impression – and I’m quite sure this was her intention – that she was offering a definitive figure on the number of fatalities which result each year from climate change. She offered no caveats or qualifications and in doing so she misled her audience.

Is it possible that Caroline hadn’t read the report beyond the executive summary? No, of course not. I’m sure she read the whole thing more than once, including the bit that warned that the 300,000 figure should be “treated as indicative rather than definitive”. Then, not only did she start quoting it as being unambiguously definitive, she accused those who questioned that figure of being climate change sceptics!

If Caroline Lucas is one of the nation’s leading advocates of man-made global warming, then it’s little wonder that the sceptics have their tails up at the moment.

The public are not as thick or as gullible as Lucas would have us believe – they’re prepared to be convinced by fact and reason, not by scare stories and slander.