Compromise is the hardest thing to do…

There are certain advantages to being a councillor on a very small Parish Council with an equally small budget. For one thing, the things you consider are not likely to be hugely contentious. You’re hardly going to argue about whether or not to maintain the play area, or the streetlights. It’s more likely that disagreement is personal, rather than political, given that party politics seldom impinges on micro-councils. And, heavens knows, a disagreement in a small village is likely to be as much about personalities as about strategy. People bring their agendas with them when they run for public office, and whilst that’s usually not a problem - you can often give them responsibility for that aspect of the Council’s activity - you occasionally get someone whose agenda is narrowly focussed on their own regard.

I’m lucky in that, whilst my colleagues have issues that motivate them to get involved, all of them work for the best interests of the village and its residents. And, as a result, we can discuss any given issue with mutual respect and common purpose. What that means is that, if we don’t entirely agree, we can reach a mutually acceptable compromise without any difficulty.

It seems to get harder to do that the further up the political ladder you get. Compromise increasingly seems to be taken by others as a sign of weakness and grounds to seek further concessions. If I win, you have to be seen to have lost, a stance which discourages anyone from taking the first step and exacerbates the confrontational nature of our politics.

You could reasonably argue that, as a Liberal Democrat, I would say that. A member of Britain’s perennially third placed political party, burned by the coalition years (even as I still believe it was the right thing to do), our position near the pivot point in the political spectrum means that broad-based political endeavour probably means that we should have a part to play regardless of which of the two bloc parties are in power. Our voting system means that, in reality, that isn’t how it actually works.

But I believe in broad-based political and societal change and it’s harder to achieve that if a minority can, and does, impose its will on a nation. It’s why I believe in fairer voting, in devolution of power to states, regions, communities, in transparency in government and a whole bunch of things that only seem to matter to people who understand how government works and see the possibilities.

That also makes me a bit of an idealist. Not, I hasten to add, in a naïve way but in terms of how a public body should operate. I’m not a policy dogmatist - I simply think that better decisions are made when the process is transparent and inclusive. It means telling people what is happening and why, being willing to justify your stance. I actually believe that, by operating in such a way, you get better governance.

It does make you more vulnerable as a civic leader. You have to be consistent in terms of your approach. But, in the long run, it’s probably better to adhere to a set of principles that reflects who you are and the community you hope to represent.

If Liberal Democracy has the answers, perhaps we should be asking questions...

I was discussing something on the internet today, and someone noted how useless a particular organisation was by way of an argument against a thought of mine. And indeed, said organisation may well be useless - I've never encountered it and am unlikely to do so. But then I thought, "hang on a minute, we're supposed to be a political party. If an organisation is useless, why aren't we wondering what we could do to make it better?".

I have always struggled with the concept that success in politics comes from opposing things. Yes, opposing stupidity, or callousness, or ineffectuality is a thoroughly worthwhile thing, but it's only half of the task of a politician or of a political party. The other half is to offer the people something better.

Now, that doesn't mean creating new laws, or new structures, or new anything, unless of course, it does. What it might mean is running things better, or differently, or providing greater access. Such things are not necessarily easy, but they're right and, if you've given it enough thought, and sought to achieve buy-in, you might actually make people's lives just a little better in the process.

So, in response to my colleague's unhappiness regarding the utter uselessness of said organisation, I replied;

"Not a failure of concept, a failure of mission goals and delivery, I'd suggest. Who sets their criteria, who designs their guidance, who sets their goals? And, if we want to be in government, that will be us."

It seems, these days, that politics is about scaring the public into supporting you by raising fears of what the other lot have done or will do, even when what they are doing is entirely coherent with their beliefs. If Liberal Democracy is so worthwhile, we should have the courage of our convictions and start offering people something positive.

Perhaps we could start by applying some of our oceans of policy?...

Calling for a pause, the new anti-strategy strategy

In the modern era of soundbites and short term solutions to long term problems, I have noticed recently that, if you really have no idea what to do about something you don't like, calling for a pause is an increasingly popular choice.

For example, Rachel Reeves is apparently calling for a pause in the rollout of Universal Credit whilst, well, what exactly? Labour activists in Camden called for a pause in work on HS2 rather than call for it to be scrapped altogether - perhaps because scrapping it would be unpopular with Labour politicians in the North and Midlands.

You may not be able to turn the clock back,
but you can apparently stop it.

Effectively, what is being said is, "We don't like this, but we aren't sure what we should do instead, in case this turns out to be popular.". And, I guess, that's fair enough, unless you were planning to be running the country some day soon.

And, before anyone says that I'm being unfair on Labour, I must note the performance of Liberal Democrats during the passage of the Health and Social Care Bill. The fact that a pause was required rather exposed the fact that the initial work of pre-scrutiny hadn't been done terribly well, and it was only when Liberal Democrat activists went ballistic that time was taken to look at it more thoroughly. It still wasn't that great a piece of legislation...

Our politics doesn't help. Opposition, rather than constructive engagement, is the order of the day in the Commons, whilst the Lords is rather better at scrutiny and amendment but suffers from a justified reticence to overturn the position of an elected House down the corridor. And pre-scrutiny takes time, when Ministers want to be getting on with things.

So, we can expect to see more calls for pauses, in the hope that opposition can be rallied against whatever it is, whilst the policy development concept withers on the vine across the political spectrum. Because opposition and legislation based on anecdote and prejudice is so much easier than developing a philosophically consistent view of the world...

Liberal Democrats and political philosophy - let's not be strangers, eh?

Perhaps it requires exposure to the brisk, clean air of a properly liberal country to get the old philosophical juices flowing but, finding myself in the Estonian countryside this afternoon, along with Ros and Cicero, talking about what is wrong with British politics, I find myself faintly perturbed by the relationship between political parties and political philosophies. Or, in the case of the United Kingdom, the evident lack of such a relationship.

The Labour Party has little in common with socialism these days, and Conservatives behave in a way which is anything but. And, it dawns on me, Liberal Democrats have a not wholly consistent relationship with liberalism. As a self-confessed liberal, that does rather trouble me.

"Ah yes,", I hear you say, "but what sort of liberalism do you mean - social or economic?". And I find myself thinking, why choose? For to choose either is to deny the benefits of the other, to determine that one is secondary to the other.

So, for example, we debate the level of private sector involvement in the delivery of public services. All very interesting, I'm sure, but shouldn't we be more worried about how the market works in reality - avoiding the creation of effective private sector monopolies and cartels, encouraging new providers and nurturing a spectrum of delivery vehicles for those services? Does Mrs Brown worry about the logo on the side of the bus that takes her to market on a Thursday, or is she more bothered about the fare and the quality of the service? Does choice trump quality or vice versa? By creating larger contracts in an attempt to create economies of scale, are we, as David Boyle so astutely notes, creating a chasm between the day to day needs of humans and the behaviour of big, impersonal institutions?

How can we empower people, so that they aren't enslaved by conformity, ignorance and poverty? How should we educate our people to allow them to think for themselves, to evaluate information in an ocean of data and place value upon it? What is the role of the State, what size should it be and why, where should power be exercised?

I have this uncomfortable feeling that Liberal Democrat thinking has developed an acceptance that change can only be delivered within the confines of our current political construct, that legislation is the first tool to be reached for in any given circumstance. In Parliament and at the heart of our Party, we have fallen into the trap of playing the game the way the big boys want it to be played, rather than exploring a new form of politics, one that reflects the rapidly-changing world in which we live.

And, worst of all, we seem to become ever more rigid in terms of the solutions we propose. There must, it seems, be an answer to everything which will, well, answer everything, leaving no room for doubt or uncertainty. Life is full of doubt and uncertainty, and our political response should face that slightly discomforting proposition.

So, perhaps the biggest challenge for the Party, regardless of the result in May, is to decide what Liberal Democrats are for, and how you create an effective campaigning vehicle to win those things. Sadly, I fear that we'll instead choose to wring our hands and allocate blame...

Sometimes, the art of good bureaucracy is broadly defining just what isn't there...

Today has been, in turns, frustrating and mildly exhilarating (actually, can you be mildly exhilarated?). Frustrating because, courtesy of Liberal Democrat Voice, I have been reminded that younger people can be reactionary, ageist and intolerant just as convincingly as older people. I've also spent forty-five minutes waiting for British Airways to answer what seemed, on the face of it, to be a pretty simple request, only for it to be made to appear like the height of optimism.

On the other hand, people close to me have had good news regarding their careers and, perhaps most surprisingly, I appear to finally have a grasp on my new(ish) job.

It would be harsh to say that I haven't been entirely happy in my current role. Bemused and slightly unsettled, yes, unhappy, no. After many years of bureaucracy in an environment where certainty is hard-wired into process, and backed up with legislation, I had grown deeply comfortable with the idea that, confronted with a new situation, I could come up with a definitive answer. As a liberal bureaucrat, that feels right, in that a rules-based environment is one in which good administration can flourish, as long as those rules have built-in safeguards and offer everyone equality before the law.

My new job, however, which I can't actually talk about, is more of an evaluating one. I am presented with a lot of data, and a range of operational tools with which to analyse it. It may, or may not be, complete, it may, or may not be, accurate. There is, if you like, uncertainty - definitely not in my comfort zone.

And so, it has been necessary to adapt. That's easier said than done - I'm not as young as I was, and increasingly set in my slightly idiosyncratic ways, and I respond less well to direct philosophical challenges than perhaps I once did. It has not come easily. The challenge, if you like, has been to put it into a context which sits comfortably and yet allows me to be as effective as I can be.

But, this week, things have fallen into place. In our half-yearly performance assessment, my manager declared her puzzlement that I see my work as a logic problem, feeling as she does that there doesn't have to be an exact answer - often, there can't be. What you can achieve, she believes, is a position where you have an argument that stands up to rigorous, independent scrutiny if necessary.

That makes sense, I think, but appals my inner control freak. And so, I have dwelt on what she said, and carried out some analysis on some of the data sets requiring my attention as a means of developing a modus operandi that sits more comfortably. Interestingly, I'm not sure that I agree exactly with her analysis, but have realised that there is a way in which I can achieve a similar result.

You see, if I can establish all of the areas of certainty, I can then define the area of uncertainty in terms of a series of expressed doubts, which can then be queried by means of interrogation and, if necessary, testing of hypotheses. There is, if you like, an internal logic which might not provide for exactitude, but does produce an 'exactly about' outcome which feels fair and reasonable.

It was, if you like, that light bulb moment, a realisation that this feels right and good and philosophically sound, not something that most people would associate with bureaucracy, but then, perhaps, I'm not your typical bureaucrat...

Now what is it that I do exactly?

Strange things, holidays. I'm used to zapping from place to place, spending just long enough in one place to have to reorganise my packing before catching another plane. Restricted to one, albeit lovely, place, I'm beginning to forget about thinking - it's all becoming rather hard work.

It is at moments like this that I begin to transform into 'armchair philosopher' mode, and start to dream of things as they might be. I actually have time to start designing my future, the sort of fun project that can keep me harmlessly amused for hours. Having said that, I really do need to plan rather more than I have for a while, as I am horribly overstretched and really bad at delegation (and I mean, really bad...).

So, is there anyone out there who wants to be Chair of Dulwich and West Norwood Liberal Democrats, Secretary of London Region or any of the other myriad jobs that I currently hold? Would you be happier doing them than I am? Would you be better at doing them than I am? Would I have more fun if you were doing them (you don't have to answer that question)? Answers in a bottle, thrown into the ocean, please...

P.S. Don't worry, I'm not losing the plot... more rewriting the old one...