Will Victor be the eventual victor?

The voice of reason.

This blog is here to explore the concept of a more inclusive means of forming policy at a local level. So let me offer you two examples of the kind of people that we need to include in such processes.

Our first case in point - let’s call her Mrs Meldrew (though it’s not really a perfect parallel – perhaps Dot or Clarrie would do) is a woman who lives in difficult domestic circumstances. Caring for disadvantaged and difficult family-members, she was never able to develop a professional career, and she has no inherited wealth or private income.

She often works nights and always long hours because of the vicious circle she is trapped in – needing money to pay for occasional respite care.

She relies on public transport and local infrastructure. The library is one affordable trip to look forward to each week. She doesn’t have a PC at work and can’t afford to use one at home – and as a result, she’s not particularly tech savvy anyway. She doesn’t have an e-mail address, a Facebook account, and if you asked to Twitter her on the backchannel, she’d probably phone the police.

She’s quite clever – did well at school, and is known to all who meet her as a level-headed reasonable type. Those who know her trust her judgment and regard her as singly fair-minded and honest. She pays all of her taxes and would be uninterested in any little fiddles that friends suggest to her on principle.

She’d agree with the Archbishop of York that the lust for certainty is a sin, and she’s not particularly fanatical about any subject that she discusses, preferring thoughtful equivocation and a conversational desire to hear what evidence others have to offer. She has a mild distrust for newspaper editorials, politicians and political hucksters of all kinds.

She’s not that keen on inflicting her views on others – especially on subjects that she is not an expert. She’s never had the time to go on a demonstration of any kind, and a local public meeting, an online consultation or even a well-run outreach programme managed by her local authority on a key local issue would be a demand too far.

Our second case-in-point - let’s call him Victor - is a complete pain in the arse. He has all day to himself. His relatives have all fallen out with him because he’s so overbearing. He has inherited wealth, a serviceable private income, a big polluting car and outspoken opinions on everything you can think of.

He’s happy to describe himself as a hard-pressed taxpayer, but a fairly complicated set of offshore arrangements ensures that he doesn’t let the revenue see much of his income in reality.

Evidence is a dirty word for him – if it weren’t, he’d have almost nothing to say. He’s not very bright – he prefers mid-market tabloids that reflect his own prejudices, and he has a handful of national and local causes that he pursues relentlessly. He has only one volume-setting – deafening.

He spends hours on the internet, trolling forums and blogs, posting under a variety of false names or sockpuppets. His views tend to blend sarcasm, obsession, personal vindictiveness and incivilty in equal measures. He’s a great fan of the easy activism of the Facebook group and a serial promoter of petitions.

Every councillor and local government officer in his line of fire are wary of him having seen the amount of trouble he can create. He turns up at any public meetings or consultations that are on offer, and is known by name to all of the staff and councillors as he walks in.

The constructive conversation ends the moment he walks in the door. For someone with so few friends, he exercises an effective veto in so many areas.

He has a blog that is dedicated to a willful misrepresentation of a handful of local figures towards whom he bears a grudge, though it’s never occurred to him that he could stand as a local councillor. None of the parties would select him in all probability.

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If a big issue were to come up in the locality that Victor and Mrs M live in, it is safe to say that Mrs M would probably make a small but useful contribution – were she ever asked, and if she could find the time. But those two qualifications in the last sentence mean that she won’t make it this time. Victor, however, could be all over it.

His certainty, obsessiveness, vindictiveness and under-qualification could all compete to intimidate anyone that can be intimidated. And that could include individual politicians and civil servants. It could also include cub reporters on local newspapers and anyone who turns up to a public meeting to find out a bit more.

I say could. But in reality, thankfully, Victor will be marginal to any final decision. He’ll be stood up to, organised against, marginalised and finally ignored by everyone involved in any effective decision-making process. They will, however, ensure that the consultation element in the process is a minor one. Victor is the reason that you don’t get asked for your views as often as you might like to be asked.

And the thousands of quiet spectators – those who don’t have the time, energy convictions or resources to contribute, will be catered for by a few competing political parties who would like Mrs M’s vote in a few years time.

The irony is that the people who stand for the local political parties are often closer in personality-type to Victor than they are to Mrs M. But they are ultimately motivated to be part of the solution to local problems because they have to win an election – and then run things themselves for a while.

For all of their obnoxiousness, political parties ultimately ensure that we all are – more or less – equally represented in the decisions that effect us.

Without political parties, the people that deserve to be represented would be routinely ignored.

The problem is, of course, that a more populist model of democracy – one in which social media could play a big role in promoting participation – would neutralise the benign effect that political parties have upon local and national politics.

It could put Victor in the driving seat.

I don’t belieeeeeeeeeve it! (Sorry – couldn’t resist it…).

Update: Clive Davis at the Spectator has picked this post up with an interesting link to Iain Dale on the subject of twittering.