Toby Young
The perils of the ‘cool’ politician
Twenty-one years ago, in Oct 1996, I had the unenviable task of persuading Tony Blair to pose for Vanity Fair, the society magazine where I was working as a contributing editor. This was for the famous Cool Britannia issue in March 1997, celebrating Britain’s moment as the cultural capital of the world, and the editor-in-chief, Graydon Carter, was determined to get the youthful Labour leader of the opposition in the magazine before he was swept to power. Unfortunately, Blair’s deputy press secretary, Tim Allen, was unconvinced.
“Shouldn’t you be asking John Major?” he said. “Why should Tony help you publicise this phenomenon when it’s happened on his rival’s watch?” He was right to be sceptical. As a rule, politicians never look more awkward and self-conscious than when trying to appear cool. Think of Bill Clinton playing the saxophone, or Gordon Brown’s claim that “the Arctic Monkeys really wake you up in the morning”, or David Cameron’s “hug a husky” trip to the North Pole.
Perhaps the most toe-curling example of all is the baseball cap worn by William Hague on a trip to Alton Towers, with the word “Hague” emblazoned across it. At the time, this was thought to have been such a disastrous miscalculation by the new, youthful leader of the Conservative Party that it contributed to Blair’s second landslide victory.
The latest politician to embarrass himself is Justin Trudeau, the 45-yearold Canadian Prime Minister who appears on the cover of the current issue of Rolling Stone under the strapline: “Why Can’t He Be Our President?” With his schoolboy smirk, tousled hair and rolled-up sleeves, Trudeau may have been hoping to consolidate his image as the Justin Bieber of the G20, but the stunt has backfired in America. There is now speculation that it might have damaged Canada’s negotiating position in the forthcoming NAFTA talks. Why do senior politicians repeatedly make fools of themselves in this way? The obvious answer is they think it will win them votes – particularly the “yoof ” vote. Presumably, that is why Jeremy Corbyn turned up at Glastonbury on his post-election “victory” lap, like a Roman emperor addressing the crowds in the Coliseum after conquering Gaul. He was greeted with wild cheers and chants of “Oh, Jeremy Corbyn”, but he didn’t look so clever a week later when it emerged that the organisers of the festival had employed immigrant workers on zero-hours contracts. During the general election campaign itself, Corbyn made the mistake of giving an interview to NME in which he promised the readers he would “deal” with the problem of student debt. No doubt that won him a lot of friends among 18 to 24-year-olds, but it’s a relationship that risks turning sour now that he has back-pedalled on that commitment.
This is a good illustration of why it is inadvisable for politicians to try to get down with the kids. Young people are notoriously fickle. Those who are flavour of the month today are destined to be old hat tomorrow.
Another example: Emmanuel Macron. For a brief moment last May, the 39-year-old seemed to capture the European Zeitgeist. But there are signs that the French electorate is already beginning to turn. This month, his approval ratings have dropped 10 points, the largest fall for a new leader since Chirac suffered a 15-point dip in 1995, and his attempts to buff up his image by hosting Bono and Rihanna at the Élysée have turned him into an object of ridicule. As if to labour the point, he and his wife, Brigitte, are lampooned by The Spectator, in the same pose as Liam and Patsy on Vanity Fair’s Cool Britannia edition.
In the end, Tony Blair did agree to pose for the magazine. He initially looked to be the exception to the rule that being “on trend” is guaranteed to put voters off. It did not last, of course. You may actually succeed in persuading the electorate that you’re a bit different for a time, but that only makes their sense of betrayal all the more acute when they realise you’re just like all the rest of them.
I have no doubt that Corbyn-mania will follow the same pattern as Clegg-mania.
Being a politician and being cool simply don’t go together. It is just that some manage to maintain the illusion for a bit longer than others.