On the lighter side

Somewhere in the back-catalogue of Yes Minister episodes I remember a scene where the incandescent Permanent Secretary, Sir Humphry Appleby, storms into the Minister’s office, red-faced and waving a piece of paper demanding to know what on earth is going on? I also recall the equally fictional Malcolm Tucker of The Thick of It using more expletives in one sentence of relentless haranguing than I’d ever heard in my sheltered life.

Quite possibly, we have all persuaded ourselves that these are extreme caricatures of high politics far removed from the more civilised reality. Who said that it is ever necessary to have a damn good row to sort out disagreements?

And yet, there is a case for saying that politics is rather like rugby. It is a contact sport. Cliff Morgan, a famous Welsh outside-half once defined the sport as a combination of opera, ballet and murder. (The quote was repeated in a Parliamentary early day motion when he died in 2013; who says that politicians are not sentimental?)

The analogy goes further. Like rugby, public affairs often rewards he or she who jumps higher, pushes harder, runs faster or tackles most aggressively. The politician who pounces on a loose ball and secures possession is much prized. It may all be done in the most sporting spirit, but the essence is of personal contact. The Battle of Bunker Hill in the American War of Independence gave us the famous quote “Don’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes.” Almost ever since, the notion has spread that to be truly effective, close physical contact may be necessary.

Today, we do things remotely. Political lobbyists whose stock in trade was the discreet lunch with key influencers or decision-makers, have had to turn to other methods. Worthy policy papers have little traction unless one can control who reads them. Skilful targeting on social media may help promote a cause – but can have unforeseen consequences. And you compete for limited mindspace with international fake-news purveyors. Suddenly decision-makers have become hard-to-reach.

For some, working from home may be no different from locking oneself in one’s office with a Do Not Disturb notice outside to deter visitors. Indeed it might be business as usual, albeit conducted in a different place. For others it may be the welcome opportunity to change the rules of the game fundamentally. To move to the nirvana of evidence-based policy-making and free oneself from the institutional pressures and intense lobbying of internal and external stakeholders. If so, it may be the perfect climate for consultation to emerge as the mechanism of choice to marshal the facts and assemble the arguments. A little like Judges choosing to decide cases on the papers rather than in open Court.

Is this a better world or are there limitations to governance by zoom? It is possible to have a vigorous disagreement online. We can thank the Parish Council at Handforth and the redoubtable Jackie Weaver for highlighting the issue, but what it revealed is how rare such histrionics actually are. Far more frequently online etiquette supresses passionate debate. The mute button (the location of which my wife has eagerly sought for many years) has become the ‘silencer’ in the motor of decision-making. Those who want to focus cerebrally on problem analysis, solution seeking and written communication and who can avoid domestic distractions may find the peace of home working a perfect scenario. Take back control has been achieved!

In practice, I suspect that very few senior people hide behind home-working to avoid being pressed and harassed. There are probably few support staff who are frustrated by the inability to beard the boss in his or her lair. A red-box full of papers and recommendations merely transfers to the drop-box. A division bell merely becomes a Google reminder. Mealtimes can be flexible; bedtimes too. A conscientious decision-maker can still do the job.

The pandemic has seen many a shift in behaviour and no-one knows precisely the extent that the new normal will differ from the old ways. Returning to the analogy of rugby, the question is whether the game stays the same, or whether it changes significantly. Society changes, and our understanding of what works can evolve. Right now, the laws of rugby union are changing, in order to protect players from the harmful effects of head injuries. Collide with an opponent now without attempting a proper tackle, and the assailant is sent off. Similar concerns arise in association football.

COVID-19 may well have opened our eyes to the disadvantages of the way in which issues are handled, and some of the rules may need to change. Think of consultation as one of the rules – too easily evaded when might is right and power politics can trample over reasoned argument. Will the experience of home-working prompt a re-think? Or will the native urge to compete and survive limit our appetite for fundamental change in the same way as rugby union, to retain its basic identity,  has to maintain that vivid Cliff Morgan imagery, with maybe just a little less murder!