At long last, my area received a dose of politics. Yesterday, there was a parade celebrating St. George’s Day; groups of Boy Scouts and Girl Guides lined up beside the cathedral and then proceeded to march, flags unfurled, through the pedestrian centre of town. Such an event should have been on the radar of every good politician. Our local Conservative MP, however, did not bother to show up: given that Conservatives have represented the area for 86 years, I guess he felt that he could catch up on his beauty sleep instead. In contrast, his Liberal Democrat and Labour rivals did make an effort.

The Labour candidate decided it would be a good idea to set up a card table in front of a derelict store with two half-deflated red balloons sellotaped to the table’s edge. This was perhaps not the best message to send to the electorate about the state of his party or the economy. Furthermore, the candidate looked distinctly uncomfortable, as if he wanted to be anywhere except where he was. It would not be surprising if this was the case; my constituency has traditionally been one in which Labour candidates gain experience and then shift over to more winnable seats. This was likely just another rung on the ladder for him, an unpleasant but necessary rite of passage before he ascends to the elite. He may think he has a poker face, but his obvious disdain indicated that he was hoping to go for drinks with Harriet Harman at a wine bar in Mayfair, not verbally slugging it out with these semi-rural unsophisticates.

His Liberal Democrat opponent stood beside the medieval monument marking the town’s centre; he wore a bright yellow tie and a dark suit with a yellow rosette pinned to his lapel. He carried around a folder filled to bursting with leaflets. A light multi-coloured scarf draped over his shoulders gave him the appearance of being a Lib Dem Doctor Who. He shook hands, talked to voters and unlike his Labour counterpart, he seemed happy to be there. I chatted with him and told him about Labour’s rather dire leaflet which had been stuffed through my mailbox the previous week. Among other things, it took credit for a local hospital which the government had tried to close.

The candidate got visibly riled: “You know,” he told me, “both the Tories and we fought to keep it open. Labour wasn’t there because they agreed with the closure.” After a bit more discussion, we parted; given that there was no Green candidate in the area (I wanted to stand but lacked the funds), I felt more satisfied with my decision to vote Liberal Democrat than I had been previously. Politics should be about this: being able to look the candidates in the eye, talk to them, find out what they’ve done and intend to do. I don’t agree with everything that the Liberal Democrats propose: in many respects, they fall short, and I really don’t want David Cameron to be Prime Minister by any means, even if he is restrained by a coalition. But this election is not an easy matter for Green voters in areas such as mine; it won’t be until the Green Party can reach into every constituency.

Having made my choice, it was mildly disappointing to go online and find that there are a substantial number of people who believe that voting Liberal Democrat is akin to voting Conservative. On a macro-level, that’s an understandable point of view. From the viewpoint of my locality, the question that inevitably arises is “Well, what else would you like me to do?” Beyond the Labour candidate’s obvious deficiencies, I have difficulty stomaching the fact that they took us to war in Iraq on the basis of unforgivable lies, and that they feel they’ve been sufficiently punished for this. It would be interesting to see the reaction from an Iraqi crowd to this proposition; I suggest David Miliband goes to Baghdad and does precisely that.

Furthermore, I work in Higher Education. To me, the Labour manifesto is more than offensive, it’s a declaration of war. There is a specific passage in which they state they wish Higher Education to become a “global export business”. It is also clear that Science, Technology, Engineering and Maths will continue to receive higher priority over social sciences and humanities (while the Liberal Democrat manifesto says this too, it is less blatant); indeed, the Higher Education section of Labour’s plan reeks of Mandelson’s penchant for supporting big business, discouraging “blue sky” and strategic thinking, and his disdain for anything that doesn’t have an immediately quantifiable economic benefit. What is not said, specifically about Lord Browne’s review of tuition fees, is worse; it is highly likely a Labour government will raise the cap to £5000 per annum at least.

I am also a trade union activist; from this perspective, the Labour manifesto is also deeply insulting. The unions barely get a look in; yet this is the political party that supposedly has trade unionism indelibly written into its DNA. I cannot get over the idea that Gordon Brown smirked at the judicial shenanigans which prevented British Airways staff and the RMT from going on strike. Indeed, after thirteen years of a Labour government, it’s clear the unions have definitely not gotten “value for money”.

And so I ask again, “What am I supposed to do?” Should I choose a duff Labour candidate with a duff manifesto representing a duff government, or should I vote for a Liberal Democrat candidate who seems to be decent, regardless of the faults in his party and leadership? The other options, an absent Conservative MP and a lunatic UKIP candidate, are not choices at all. The only rule of thumb that I’ve been able to discern is to make whatever selection that would annoy the Daily Mail the most; given their frothing at the mouth hatred of the Liberal Democrats, and how they would profit from a Labour victory with more spurious “Broken Britain” articles, it becomes a relatively simple matter.

However, I shouldn’t have to make my choices in such a negative way. I am picking from among less than optimal, bad, worse and terrible; I don’t feel compelled to put up a Liberal Democrat poster in my window, nor do I advise anyone in constituencies which have a Green choice to do what I’m doing. That said, I sincerely hope that the Liberal Democrat wins in my constituency and that May 7 heralds the arrival of Green MPs from more enlightened regions. I also hope that proportional representation will soon replace our sad, tired electoral system. If so, at long last, a choice which inspires my true and total enthusiasm may finally ride over the hill.

To coincide with the arrival of postal ballots, a message from Leader of the Green Party, Caroline Lucas:

Mercifully, I didn’t listen to most of yesterday’s debate. I was enjoying the pleasures of a spring evening in the shadow of the South Downs; I set out just as the sun was beginning to set. The common near to my home was a lush green. The lads were out playing rugby in the fading light. A middle aged woman in a black cardigan walked her dog, humouring it, coaxing it away from taking an ardent interest in a bench that the winter had stripped of paint. There is something altogether gentle about such scenes, when nature, sunlight and even the breeze work in harmony to create a landscape in which one can believe all elements exist to soothe. This setting was only disrupted by the return of the airplanes: the few vapour trails I saw looked like hairline cracks in the sky.

It was with reluctance that I went home and switched on the radio. Unlike last week’s debate, it was clear that this event was more finely balanced. Clegg, however, did something which was alien to the other two party leaders: he actually tried to address the questions he received. Furthermore, when Cameron and Brown went off on tangents, Clegg was the most consistent in his attempts to steer the discussion back to the original point. On that basis, it was another win for the Liberal Democrats, though less of a barnstormer than the last one. Clegg does not have feet of clay; the “Great Yellow Surge” has perhaps solidified as a result.

What caught my attention most, however, was David Cameron’s performance. At first glance, this may seem perverse. But I couldn’t get over the idea that the man was simply disconnected from the audience he was trying to address. No doubt his sound-bites were all well rehearsed and had been focus group tested. But the way he recited them lacked conviction and understanding; while he is able to comprehend human suffering on an abstract level, he lacks the tactile engagement with the nitty gritty of every day life which any good leader requires. This is likely a result of his back story, and it is something neither he, nor much of his front bench, have overcome.

Britain should have consigned the class system to the dustbin of history. The Old Etonians were supposed to have taken their last bow during the days of Sir Alec Douglas-Home. Say what you will about John Major, but at least he represented a Conservatism that had its roots among people who were not at all posh: he understood what it was like to be broke and unemployed. This background gave him a feel for the public he sought to govern: the clever use of the soap box in the 1992 election, the lack of fear in facing down hecklers, even little touches like allowing his ardent support for Chelsea FC to show, indicated that for all the grandeur of his position, he retained some awareness of the nation’s true demeanour.

This cannot be said of Cameron. For all his years in public relations, his skillful use of design and marketing, he simply doesn’t know what it’s like to be worried about fundamental, day-to-day issues like lacking money. He hasn’t ever gone down to a Job Centre and registered for Jobseeker’s Allowance. Yes, he has experienced hardship insofar as he and his wife had a disabled child, but at least he was in a position, should it have been required, to afford whatever treatment he wanted. Other parents have children who are just as ill, but have to wonder and worry about the quality of their local hospitals. In that scenario, speeches about a “Big Society” and personal empowerment are worryingly vague. Most people experience government as a utility, not as a charitable mission, and they want that utility to function properly.

As a migrant, I am an outsider to Britain’s class system; my most direct exposure to it came from working in a company in which all the senior managers had attended the same public school. I found I couldn’t get anything done largely because stating directly that things were in a poor state and needed to be fixed was entirely too radical for the old boys who went hunting on the weekends. The Peter O’Toole film, “The Ruling Class”, also heightened my awarenesss; in it, O’Toole plays the 14th Earl of Gurney who, at first, is a harmless loony. However, thanks to some botched psychological treatment, he comes to believe he is Jack the Ripper. He becomes more popular with his colleagues and neighbours upon adopting the Ripper persona, as he expresses a strong belief in capital punishment and flogging. While some of his family suspect all is not well, “Jack” is able to win over his sole interlocutor by singing the Eton Boating Song.

It would not surprise me if Cameron could sing the same tune; the first line, according to “The Ruling Class”, states “Harrow may be more clever”. This is a true statement if the vague and unconvincing Conservative Manifesto is any indication. That aside, I am not suggesting that he is so dim as to be unaware that his background is a problem; however, unlike Nick Clegg (also public school educated) who broadened his horizons by learning several languages and living abroad, his attempts to address the issue have been more show than real. Yes, he has given intimate interviews. Yes, he’s tried to open up the list of Conservative candidates to include more ethnic minorities and women: however, a quick look at that list reveals a fair number of double-barrelled surnames and other WASP fetishes. In short, the dissonance remains, rather as if he’s playing a piano that’s out of key. Perhaps the most damning thing that can be said is as follows: John Major, in his day, could hit the right notes but Cameron can’t. This, above all other factors, may explain why an unpopular government has been able to cling on as tenaciously as it has, and why a Liberal surge has been greeted with widespread relief as well as hope. Most people may not understand the culture at Eton; but they understand that those who drank deep of Eton’s culture may have problems understanding them.

Lest this be seen as a form of “reverse snobbery”, it is worth mentioning that it is possible to have a grand upbringing and yet have the ability to tap into the British psyche. I dare say Harold Macmillian in his early years was better at it than Cameron. Then, Macmillian used his Etonian credentials to suggest he was a figure of stability; he didn’t bother to try to “hang with the kids”. The present Conservative attempt to do so has all the cringeworthy qualities of a middle aged man trying to wear leather pants and a fishnet vest down at a rave. The fact that is working about as well as a painfully out-of-place middle aged man’s attempts to pick up teenage girls is perhaps the most cheering aspect of the election. The grand battles of class warfare are over, but that doesn’t mean that we want a revival of a ruling class in any form; maybe when the Conservatives understand this, they will experience a true renaissance. However, that might mean they would cease to be who they are.

I think I’ll always remember where I was when our present political order fell to pieces. It was Friday, April 16, 2010 at around 12:15 in the afternoon. I was at my desk. A freshly brewed mug of rooibos tea was resting on a coaster beside my keyboard. I had just taken a look at Google News and saw the results of a ComRes poll taken just after the leaders’ debate. I blinked. I couldn’t believe it at first. The Liberal Democrats had surged 14 points in one night, overtaking Labour, and were just one point behind the Conservatives. It was so unbelievable I had to tell my work colleagues: they were just as surprised. Then we all went back to work.

This is hardly a moment when the proverbial red flag flies above the barricades, but to be shocked and then carry on is perhaps a very British way of conducting a revolution. Let’s be clear: a psychological barrier was broken by one debate performance and one poll. The idea that a vote for a third party is somehow “wasted” simply disappeared: all the polls since then confirm that this assumption is no longer operative in the minds of the British public. We could be headed for a three-way split result, the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the General Election of 1923. We could also be headed for a situation in which the Liberal Democrats and Conservatives earn more votes than Labour, yet Labour may retain the most seats and Gordon Brown could remain ensconced in Downing Street: this scenario is so grossly unacceptable that it is highly likely that the voting system would be reformed as result. Yet everyone is calm. We’ve enjoyed a tranquil weekend with no planes in the sky, even if the earth beneath our feet has shifted.

There are small flashes of the revolution in my neck of woods. A series of Liberal Democrat signs along the M27 motorway have been augmented with a giant gold banner emblazoned with “Liberal Democrats” printed in bold letters. Small Liberal Democrat signs have made their appearance along residential streets, stuck in windows or planted on the end of wooden poles in tidy front gardens. Revolution may not be causing riots or parties, but each of these small manifestations is part of an overall pattern. One gets the sense that the electorate, after being suffocated by the Conservative / Labour show for so long, is breathing in fresh air and enjoying the rush. Yet again, life goes on, and small pleasures have come to the fore: for example, James Naughtie went to Richmond Park last Saturday, and broadcast the sounds of bird singing and insects buzzing on Radio 4. We don’t know who the Prime Minister will be, we don’t know the complexion of the government that will take control of our affairs, we don’t know what life will be like six months from now, yet alone a year. But this does not disturb, rather, the public seems to be more at ease than it was with the binary choice they had previously and is more interested in the song of blackbirds and the whirring of dragonflies.

It could be that the establishment stages a successful fightback; however, I doubt it. Sordid pieces such as the one in the Daily Mail questioning the “Britishness” of Nick Clegg’s background exemplify the pathetic attempts by the avatars of the present order to pull aspiration down to earth. We also have also been subjected to rather limp critiques of Liberal Democrat policies which were made all the more desperate and hopeless by the obviously grasping nature of people who are stating their objections. The Conservative response has been particularly dire; no one cares about the negative connotations of their vote, i.e., “Vote Clegg, Get Brown”. As President Obama’s campaign proved, a modern electorate’s preference is to vote positively when given the opportunity. As Hillary Clinton and John McCain proved, trying to swamp hope with melancholy is very difficult to do.

This is not to say that the Liberal Democrats are beyond critique; they are just as bound to the present paradigm as their Labour and Conservative counterparts. Recently, their foreign policy spokesman Ed Davey wobbled badly by promising updated nuclear weapons for Britain, albeit in a much reduced state as compared to present plans. This is maddening particularly since the Cold War ended over twenty years ago and the illogic of keeping nuclear weapons becomes more obscene the longer we keep the deterrent.

Furthermore, while the Liberal Democrats have interesting plans for reforming the financial system, they are still the most Europhile party (apart from the Scottish Nationalists) and as such want Britain to join the Euro. Last but not least, some Liberal Democrats do possess air of sanctimony that’s as pungent as halitosis, but perhaps this is a natural result of being aloof from power for so long.

That said, the success of the Liberal Democrats is still worth cheering as it may represent the point of the spear: the barriers they have and continued to knock down may open doors for other voices particularly if the present electoral system, with its dead constituencies and wasted votes, is swept aside. What is perhaps more significant is that if indeed that happens, few will care, fewer still will cry. We have recently discovered the pleasures of life without airplanes to contaminate the heavens above; absence of a corrupt establishment promises even more heady joys. Government could then become much more a synthesis of ideas rather than the dispensation and management of patronage, or to put it another way, more Vince Cable, less Malcolm Tucker.

There are over two weeks to go, and yes, everything could revert to its previous state. No one is beyond the power of the muckrakers, and if Clegg has some scandal locked up in the cupboard of his past, he must tremble. But somehow, I don’t think so; I believe his performances in the following debates may be even more assured, and these will create even greater confidence in him and his party. Somehow, it feels as if something has changed: changed for the better, and changed for good.

Like many, I tuned into last night’s debate with low expectations. I was dubious about the value of having American-style debates in Britain as for the most part their trans-Atlantic counterparts tend not to generate fresh ideas or perspectives. Rather, they are generally highly restrained, very scripted, and ultimately they exist solely to produce sound-bites. My fears were reinforced by the leaders’ frequent use of hokey anecdotes, which reminded me of the last Vice Presidential debate; in that contest, Joe Biden referred to meeting people at Katie’s Restaurant in Wilmington, Delaware. There was a slight problem with his tale: the establishment had long ceased to exist.

There were no errors of that magnitude; the stories were simply irritating especially in instances (e.g., the need for small class sizes) in which citing research would have been more effective. As for sound bites, perhaps surprisingly, the most memorable line came from Gordon Brown but it was not to his benefit: “I agree with Nick”. Indeed, the Labour leader, not known for being a “Liberal-snuggler” by any means, may have unwittingly handed the Liberal Democrats their campaign slogan: I suspect it will be on t-shirts and posters across the nation shortly. Nick Clegg also benefited from appearing to be the least uptight and most charismatic out of the three leaders; perhaps he felt more free to speak as he had the most to gain and least to lose. In this context, it is not surprising that the media and polls have proclaimed him the winner. What is more, he has stepped out of the shadow of his own Treasury spokesman.

In a way, this is cheering. Prior to the debate, I was riding on my exercise bike and watching Andrew Marr’s “The Making of Modern Britain”; as I suffered pain in my legs and felt my heart pound, I watched the episode featuring the General Election of 1906, the last time the Liberal Party had a landslide victory of its own accord. This was a happier moment in the nation’s history, when aristocracy was on the run, reform was on the rise, and giants like Asquith and Lloyd George were coming to the fore. If their modern successors truly want to revive this tradition and adapt it to the modern age, all the better: it will add to the smorgasbord of ideologies from which the British voter can choose.

But we’re not there yet: all three of the “prominent” parties still operate within the strict confines of the existing paradigm. At best, they promise modifications. Perhaps this innate “conservatism” arises from fear; I can’t help but recall something that was said of Bill Clinton after he was defeated for re-election as Arkansas’ governor: “He made it his mission never to offend another voter again”. It would seem that the “prominent three” have picked up this mantra in varying degrees. I suggest, however, that Clegg won because he was the one who was least interested in being inoffensive.

Debates can and should offend: telling the truth often does. Furthermore, debate should not just attack the scapegoats of the day, for example, corrupt MPs and greedy bankers, who are easy, albeit legitimate, targets. There is a significant and just critique to be made of how the country has been run and for whose benefit over the past 20, 30, 40 years, a state of affairs for which there is widespread complicity. Labour and the Conservatives have been interchangeable in many respects, the economy is still reliant on casino finance and pointless consumerism, the parties are “intensely relaxed” about the accumulation of vast fortunes, and all three would leave the super-rich largely untouched. Worse, the life and death matter of our involvement in Afghanistan was reduced to a mere question of supply, rather than that of any good being achieved by remaining there. Still worse, conspicuous consumption has not yet been replaced by conspicuous prudence for the benefit of our well-being and that of the planet. The leaders made do by skirting around the edges of these deeper debates; at no point did they get to the heart of the matter. None had a genuinely radical alternative to offer; the Liberal Democrat “vision” triumphed simply because it was clearer and more appetising than the others. An electorate hungry for real meat understandably preferred a water biscuit to air stew.

The power of an idea lay in its ability to provoke and to jar; it is through the process of putting forward bold ideological propositions that perspectives are changed rather than reinforced. The leaders didn’t dare let in Caroline Lucas because she would have attacked the assumptions upon which they largely rely. In this revised context, who was radical and who stood for the status quo would have been perceived quite differently. The scripted men in grey suits would have been left sputtering for answers, and perhaps the electorate would have felt like a genuine choice was on offer. Perhaps, the voters may have also felt more inspired to choose.

I suspect that the three leaders are in varying states of distress or triumph this morning. Brown should be delighted that he didn’t completely lose his temper, but at the same time he must know that he looked exhausted and came across as bereft of ideas. Cameron should be concerned that his performance was two dimensional, smeared with cosmetics, covered in gobs of marketing ooze and everyone knows it. Clegg is perhaps treating himself to a glass of champagne along with breakfast while basking in the glow of favourable headlines. However, those of us who get up early, drive to work as the sun rises, sit at our desks or work in our factories or tend our hospitals have little stake in these petty disasters or triumphs; we are entitled to know more about what will be done on our behalf, what kind of future lay in store, and to have a full palette of ideas from which to choose.

According to a poll which appeared in The Times this morning, the voters have expressed a clear preference for a hung parliament. This desire apparently arises from popular disgust with Labour’s intransigence and the slipperiness of the Conservatives. Presumably, there is also a widely-held opinion that a purposefully inconclusive result will lead either Mr. Brown or Mr. Cameron to invite that nice Mr. Clegg over to Number 10, and ensure that Vince Cable is installed as Chancellor of the Exchequer. There is even the potential that a few new voices, say, two or three Green MPs, might get a shout in as well.

This is an intriguing idea and has many merits to it: after all, it is likely that the Liberal Democrats and other parties would demand a change in the voting system as their price for joining any government. Furthermore, there might be other reforms in the offing, such as a transition to a more green economy and tougher regulation of banks and other financial institutions. However, there is a problem with this scenario: an inconclusive result does not necessarily imply that this will happen. We can get a glimpse at what the future may hold by taking a look at what has transpired in Canada, as there are some distinct parallels to our present situation.

Canadian politics rarely appear on the radar screens of the British press; however, there are some startling commonalities to consider. In 1993, the Liberal Party of Canada, which is more or less equivalent to Britain’s Labour Party, wiped out a demoralised and scandal-ridden Progressive Conservative Party, which was then led by the lacklustre Kim Campbell. The leader of the Liberals, a charismatic Quebecker named Jean Chretien, became Prime Minister. He held the post for ten years and won three elections, capitalising on continued disarray among the Conservatives. His time in office was not untroubled; for example, he lobbied the Business Development Bank of Canada to give a loan to a crony, a suspicious activity later referred to the “Grand Mere Scandal”. Worse, he was later held responsible for the loose dispersement of hundreds of millions of Canadian dollars to Quebec and Liberal party interests in the so-called “Sponsorship Scandal”.

Tainted by these charges of corruption, in 2003, Chretien yielded his post to his Finance Minister, Paul Martin; relations between the two of them had been strained for years. Martin, who had largely been considered a success as Finance Minister, found that the role of Prime Minister to be far more taxing; he was labelled “Mr. Dithers” by the press. After three years in the role, he and the Liberal Party finally lost power.

Here is where the narrative gets more interesting, and certainly more alarming. The 2006 election yielded a hung parliament, with the Conservatives, led by Stephen Harper, as the largest party; this was in spite of the fact that early polls had indicated that the Conservatives would win an outright majority. Voters had second thoughts, apparently. After all, Stephen Harper’s initial presentation of himself and his party to the public was far to the right of Canadian opinion; his latter moves to more centrist positions were regarded with suspicion.

Harper and the Conservatives have held onto power since 2006, despite a further election in 2008 which also yielded an inconclusive result. Despite being a minority, if anything, his hold on the government has become more solid though some of this has relied on barefaced cheek. That said, part of his continuance is likely due to the unobtrusiveness of Harper himself, who possesses a bland personality and lacks both charm and charisma. However, he has felt no particular need to form a lasting coalition; his government has continued on the sufferance not of the Liberals, but the other parties which sit in Canada’s parliament, the New Democrats (who are unreconstructed social democrats) and more interestingly, the nationalist Bloc Quebecois. It is the behaviour of the latter which may hold the key to the future; it was their support in February 2006 which allowed the minority Conservative government to be formed in the first place and in the words of the Bloc’s House Leader Michel Gauthier, continue a “good while”.

It is not impossible to imagine a scenario in which the Scottish Nationalists and / or Plaid Cmyru do a deal with minority British Conservative government; hitherto, both parties have espoused the theme that they are best placed to defend Scotland or Wales from the austerity to come. Like the Bloc Quebecois, they also have no interest in being part of the central government. It is entirely possible that one or both of them could offer their support in exchange for defending their nations’ budgets or for greater devolution of powers from the centre. Such co-operation is not as far fetched as it may sound; for example, in May 2009, David Cameron stressed that he wanted to enhance co-operation with the SNP, in order to make devolved government work better. There have been meetings between the Tories and SNP to this end.

This is not to say there are no significant differences between Britain and Canada; unlike Gordon Brown, Paul Martin subjected himself to an election in 2004 and won, albeit he had to continue in a minority government of his own. Furthermore, Canada has been partially insulated from chaos by having a more federal structure than Britain. New Democrat and Liberal administrations in the provinces limit Harper’s room for manoeuvre. But as the public contemplates the consequences of electing a hung parliament, it may be worth considering that a hung parliament does not necessarily mean the kind of government the people intend to have. That nice Mr. Layton of the New Democrats hasn’t been invited into Ottawa’s government; solid, sturdy Mr. Cable may not get to sit in Number 11 Downing Street and balance the nation’s books. A change in the voting system has not occurred as a result of Canada’s hung parliament, and frustratingly, the popular Canadian Green Party still awaits its first elected MP. Rather than a stable government which capitalises on Parliament’s best and brightest, the results on May 6th may mean we are in for a very bumpy ride, with David Cameron firmly in the driver’s seat.

According to legend, Winston Churchill once sent back a pudding he was served with the following critique: “it has no theme”. As I watched BBC Parliament last night, I couldn’t help but be reminded of this story. If the election is comparable to a pudding, it is admittedly a bland, soggy one that appears to be more syrup than sponge, and it is definitely lacking a clear motif. The BBC is apparently bored; yesterday, a reporter felt the need to illustrate the tedium by playing a clip of Nick Clegg, flanked by two of his PPCs, discussing local architecture and school holidays. This was apparently how the Liberal Democrat leader felt he should use a prime-time opportunity for greater publicity. Worse, and more important, the first week has been dominated by a series of arguments about relatively minor changes in taxation; the £12 billion in “efficiency savings” that the Conservatives are talking about are unlikely to be achieved, thus their proposed tax cuts have an inadequate provision behind them. However, in the grand scheme of the challenges facing the nation, these arguments are very small beer. The big ideas are apparently confined to only a few constituencies like Cambridge and Brighton Pavillion; for the vast majority, the present ideological recipe yields only a very thin gruel.

Contrary to what Francis Fukuyama’s diminishing band of followers might think, we are definitely not at “the end of history”, and thus dull politics are not something we should accept as being “normal”. For example, it is very clear that the balance between labour and management in this country is terribly broken and steps should be taken to start afresh.

I speak with some experience in this regard as I have worked in both private industry and in the academic sector; I also hold a position of responsibility within the local chapter of my trade union. Based upon what I have seen, I suggest there exists a pernicious management culture in the United Kingdom which demands absolute deference to whomever is “the boss”. Furthermore, the trade union movement, which prior to the Eighties was a counterbalance, has largely been emasculated. According to a recent report in the Economist, trade union membership which reached a high of 53% of the working population in 1979, has dropped to 27% now. Worse, the concentration of that membership is now largely in public sector jobs; this has led to problems for many unions who want to engage in industrial action. Whereas in the Sixties and Seventies there was a substantial segment of the population that might be in sympathy, nowadays, it is a pocket of inconvenience; only when the service in question tugs on the wider public’s heart-strings, such as the fire service, is this barrier overcome.

There is a new role for unions, however. The future may lie in replicating how labour and management work together in Germany: the structure there is that of a partnership, as both sides treat their company as a social, as well as economic organisation, and both sides are interested in the enterprise’s long-term viability. The continued success of Germany as an exporting nation and the relative strength of its economy is indicative of how well this approach has worked. However, my reading of management in Britain is that it is not ready to accept that it doesn’t know everything: the pervasive business culture, exemplified by the television programme Dragons’ Den and the salaries accrued by the head of banks, is still that of reliance on individual, all-knowing, all-seeing “heroes”. But business is not meant to be heroic, it it is meant to serve the public and be sane. When I was in private industry, I used to laugh at the projected annual targets that were cooked up by Finance Directors, as the “heroes” at the top demanded ever more growth built into the figures. Such things, in my opinion, were largely unknowable, and thus difficult to plan: I later found I was expressing a quasi-Keynesian thought about “irreducible uncertainty”. Never mind: egotism and force of will were supposed to overcome all difficulties and make ethereal hopes concrete.

We can say conclusively that this approach hasn’t worked, largely because knowledge in any organisation is diffuse, not concentrated. It is usually the people who work “on the ground” who tend to have a better idea about the “irreducible uncertainties” as well as current problems than the “heroic” leaders. Ignorance and a lack of understanding of human nature at the top are the leading causes of our present problems. Trade Unions can step up to the role of ensuring management doesn’t cut its own throat and in the process wreck the lives of their staff. Providing the political and legal structures to empower unions in this manner is not a big ticket item on the political agenda; it appears that Labour, the Conservatives and the Liberal Democrats are relatively satisfied with the post-Thatcher “settlement”. Indeed, I can only imagine that Gordon Brown was relieved that the proposed industrial action by the RMT was struck down by judicial fiat. Of course, a vocal minority within the union movement adds to its burdens by indulging in Trotskyite fantasies; I suggest the “permanent revolution” they should be more concerned with has to do with the changes that come every time a chief executive is replaced and staff numbers are reviewed. I also suggest that trade unions should be pointing out the real waste in government and business, which usually has more to do with processes than staff: changing systems such as procurement, usually takes longer to implement and thus is less popular with politicians and business leaders alike, but generally speaking most worthwhile and enduring changes take time to implement.

As has been demonstrated, the structure of British labour relations is just one theme among many that could be addressed and could generate genuine debate. The pudding could be rich in flavour rather than insipid; if the “big three” politicians wonder why they’re failing to engender enthusiasm, they might well want to consider this point. While leaders need not themselves be heroic in order to create inspiration, the ideas they espouse need to be bracing. Otherwise the electorate will find it difficult to swallow, or at worst, send the confection back to the symbolic kitchen.

I live in a quiet, semi-rural area in which change comes slowly; the recent demolition of an old telephone exchange and the remodelling of the Butter Market required a great deal of discussion and numerous planning applications before they were allowed to proceed. An understated affluence is also a feature of the area: the designer fashion-clad “yummy mummies” drive brand new Mercedes and BMWs, country pubs are slowly surrendering to haute cuisine, and on many a summer evening, gentlemen in cricket whites can be seen playing on well-tended village greens. Given this context, perhaps it’s not surprising that this constituency has been electing only Conservative Members of Parliament since 1924. At the last election, the sitting MP had a majority of over 10,000; this is among the safest of safe seats.

The Liberal Democrats, Labour and UKIP are here, of course, but they soldier on to inevitable defeat every time: indeed, they appear not to care about my constituency all that much. I don’t recall seeing anyone donning rosettes or handing out leaflets at the last General Election; no doubt that scenario will be repeated this time. The only variation occurred during the European elections: some leaflets were stuffed through my letterbox (strangely, leaflets from the BNP outnumbered all others), but then again, as the Euro-elections implied a wider electoral region in which other parties might have a chance of winning seats, they had more reason to care.

In other words, my constituency, for all intents and purposes, is dead. There is no genuine contest; the polity is dysfunctional. Furthermore, there is no good reason for this lifelessness: I would be hard pressed to remember anything our MP has done for the area. Indeed, though I live in its major population centre, I recall only seeing him in the flesh once, specifically on Rememberance Day in 2004: he looked uncomfortable following a group of student cadets in a memorial parade. The opposition parties do not appear to have the will to alter this state of affairs: if Labour or the Liberal Democrats urged their supporters to vote tactically, then the Conservative advantage might be overcome. However their rivalry outweighs common sense: they won’t talk, it won’t happen, and things are likely to carry on this way unless our MP is suddenly caught selling arms to Libya in exchange for widows and orphans who then were forced to work in sweatshops assembling chemical weapons to be used by Iranian terrorists on a newborn kitten refuge.

I certainly do not feel isolated my predicament. The Electoral Reform Society estimates that 400 out of 650 seats are in a similar position. Dead constituencies are by no means exclusively Tory fiefdoms; the appellation is just as apropos for regions such as Rhondda which has been sending Labour MPs to Westminster since 1910. The Glasgow East by-election in 2008 was an extraordinary event as it was a dead constituency that suddenly became competitive: for those who may not recall how deceased it was, prior to this contest, Labour MPs were returned with majorities in excess of 10,000. However, Glasgow East’s revival is the exception; most of the time, many voters simply continue to cast ballots which are then rendered meaningless by the overwhelming mathematics of the precinct. Worse, dead constituencies have become places in which parties feel they can deposit politicians they deem important: a good example is Shaun Woodward, Labour MP for St. Helens South and currently Secretary of State for Northern Ireland. He is a wealthy defector from the Conservative party who has no links to the region he represents; popular gossip suggests he is the only Labour MP with a butler. Yet the Labour party establishment decided to reward his switch by providing him with continued employment, rather than allow him to face the wrath of his former constituents in Witney, Oxfordshire. Note what happened: the presence of a dead constituency provided a means by which a plum job could be distributed to a crony regardless of the feelings of the local party or population. This is hardly an expression of “popular will”, but without a mechanism to unlock constituencies of this type, it is a central feature of the status quo. Given this, it is not overstating matters to suggest that dead constituencies are the rotten boroughs of the 21st century. The surprise and delight that greets their fall in the course of an election should tell us something: for example, the loss of Enfield Southgate by Michael Portillo in 1997 has become the stuff of legend, viewed now as a catastrophic blow to the complacent Conservative establishment.

Gordon Brown has recently made noises which suggest that he has become more favourably disposed to electoral reform. More specifically, he has proposed that the present “first past the post” mechanism be replaced by a system that utilises the Alternative Vote; this is a familiar tune which has been sung more sweetly by his predecessors in office. Indeed, this reform was proposed at a less opportunistic moment by the Jenkins Commission in 1998. The Prime Minister’s sudden interest in the subject is likely a combination of blatant short-term calculus and a long-standing intellectual acknowledgement by most politicians that making one’s vote pointless is bad for democracy and undermines the long-term viability of our institutions. However, this is balanced against the raw urgency of the maintenance of power, and ambition is generally sufficient to ensure that the higher impulse is found wanting in attractiveness once the hustings are over. However, Enfield Southgate and more latterly, Glasgow East should have been warning shots across the establishment’s bow: if dissatisfaction is sufficient, dead constituencies too can change. Alienation may create conditions in which this phenomenon is more widespread; as far fetched as it may sound today, the present party system could fall. Comprehensive reform is the least disruptive and most rational way to revitalise the electoral process and to provide a means by which voter apathy can be addressed. While it is doubtful that the masters of the dead 400 want to understand this, circumstances thrust upon them by this General Election will hopefully make the need for change impossible to ignore.

And now that the election has begun, a message from Leader of the Green Party, Caroline Lucas:

This is the fifth general election I’ve experienced since my move to the United Kingdom; I recall the topsy-turvy contest of 1992, which led almost inexplicably to John Major’s triumph. I remember that glad morning in 1997 when New Labour took office; it was a bright, unseasonably warm May day and the event was covered in detail by a series of breathless reporters and hovering helicopters. Though I was sceptical about how much positive change would occur, I grudgingly felt a certain amount of hope when Tony Blair walked into Number 10. The elections of 2001 and 2005 were very dull in comparison: I went to bed early on Election Day in both instances with the certainty that Labour would remain in office. This time is different: as I look out of the corner of my eye, I can see on television that the green beside the Houses of Parliament is crowded with politicians, pundits and reporters in full flow. This may be a natural expression of long suppressed feelings of excitement and tension. In addition to the aforementioned emotions, there may also be a sense of relief. At long last, the matter will be decided: who is going to run the country? What direction will we go? What will be the disposition of this nation when it comes to war and peace?

While these questions are very important, it’s unfortunate that a more fundamental one is being lost in the mix, specifically: how shall we live? There has rarely been a better time to address this. Make no mistake, things are improving, but we are still wandering amidst the ruins of a failed economy: the shards of broken champagne bottles left behind by financiers continue to make the journey out of recession perilous, as does the clotted wads of deficit spending used to plug holes in the nation’s accounts: no doubt a flood threatens. This mixture of disaster, exhaustion and tenuous recovery has created a political moment which is only comparable to the election held near the end of World War II. However, in the course of 1945′s campaign, the question of “how shall we live” gave rise to a number of compelling answers: by that time, William Beveridge had crafted his proposals for the welfare state and the Labour Party promised nationalisation and “fair shares for all”. In comparison, the election of 2010 seems much more esoteric in focus: the changes promised by Labour, the Conservatives and the Liberal Democrats seem a mere gnawing at the edges. The speculators and bankers who led us down the road to ruin, at best, may pay more tax and be subject to a few more rules, but otherwise the present state of affairs will go on undisturbed. Perhaps things will improve on their own; few things, apart from the environment, seem to get worse without respite. After a time, it is likely that the “reset button” will at least be partially pressed: unemployment will go down, economic growth will resume, and whichever government is in power will claim this to be a great success at least until the next crisis descends.

To be fair, there are small political parties which more directly challenge the status quo: for example, I recently encountered a representative of the Trade Union and Socialist Coalition. However, that group and its allies are an anachronism. They insist on digging up the decayed corpses of Leon Trotsky and class warfare in an era of internet and iPads. UKIP is the British National Party on a higher salary. The British National Party thinks this political moment is more like 1933 than 1945. Admittedly, I am biased, but from my perspective it is only the Green Party which is asking the right questions, let alone providing substantively different answers which do not refer to ideologies which are out of date or out of time.

Returning to the stolid establishment, today, David Cameron, Gordon Brown and Nick Clegg have all deployed rhetoric which speaks of getting rid of emphemera and arriving at the heart of the matter. These are mere words: for example, the Prime Minister’s admonition to “get to it” was followed up by him boarding a fast train at St. Pancras so he could he to go pester voters at a supermarket in Kent. Note the gap: the Prime Minister, the supposed servant of the people, who is keen to stress his middle class roots, took the most elite means of transport available to him (short of flying on a helicopter) to persuade less well-off citizens that he is the best man to defend their interests. Of course, most election campaigns contain similar paradoxical distances between elites and voters: it is difficult to imagine David Cameron taking out a home improvement loan to get the windows in his Notting Hill residence replaced, or Nick Clegg going down to the local corner shop to buy a pint of milk. Yet these men want the privilege to determine policy that has a direct effect on the interest rate on that home improvement loan, or whether the pint of milk comes from a cow that has been pumped full of hormones. It is no wonder that they don’t want to ask the question, “how shall we live” in manner that would fundamentally re-constitute the present state of affairs, as they directly profit from it.

What makes elections so exciting is that we can talk about this now and the complaining is not idle: there are a little over four weeks in which arguments can influence by which name one makes one’s mark. At this point, the voters are sovereign, the government is reduced in stature to that of a supplicant. Here is the moment of maximum freedom: yes, politicians and political ads are annoying. However this hyperactive courting is symptomatic of the precious nature of this time. I hope that this election is the one in which this true sense of liberty is used most wisely. We may not answer the question “How shall we live”; but it is in places like Brighton Pavilion, Lewisham Deptford and Norwich South that it may begin to be asked with louder voices, not just during the campaign, but in the period to come.