It would be a mistake to assume that any political party is a monolith or anything close to one: people don’t abandon their individual points of view the moment they sign the dotted line of the membership form. I once asked a Tory Member of Parliament, during a period when John Major was struggling with the Eurosceptics, why it was proving so difficult to impose some sort of discipline. He replied, “The only thing which united the Conservative Party was opposition to socialism.” When Labour shifted right and ditched Clause IV, the Conservatives immediately fell to pieces; after the 1997 election, some liberal Tories found it a relatively simple matter to cross the floor. This is by no means a purely Conservative problem: Labour is guilty of letting faction drive the agenda as well. Indeed, the battle between Brownites and Blairites has been more fierce and long lasting than Major’s struggle with the anti-European “bastards”.

Just because the Liberal Democrats are a smaller party doesn’t mean that they lack similar divisions; indeed, as their organisation is the result of a fusion of two separate political parties, it is entirely natural and predictable that they would have vast areas of disagreement. Broadly speaking, there are two identifiable factions: the “Orange Book” Lib Dems, i.e., those who tend to believe in the free market, and the “Beveridge Group”, who are less trusting of capitalist solutions and more supportive of maintaining public services. The leadership election that took place after Ming Campbell’s departure was essentially a contest between the “Orange Book” and “Beveridge Group” factions, with Nick Clegg representing the former, and Chris Huhne more-or-less standing for the latter. As we’ve seen, the Orange Book tendency won.

If one looks at the list of MPs which comprise the Beveridge Group, it is clear that the election has weakened them: Paul Holmes, the Group’s nominal leader and MP for Chesterfield, lost to Labour. Dr. Evan Harris, one of the most outspoken and eloquent members of the Group, has been sent packing by the Conservatives. Richard Younger-Ross, Sandra Gidley, Paul Rowen, Paul Keetch also lost their seats. David Howarth retired. At the time of writing it is unclear if any of the new intake will replace those who have been dispatched. Meanwhile, prominent Orange Book Liberal Democrats such as David Laws and Vince Cable remain. Under these circumstances, it may be that protests within the Liberal Democrats to a deal with the Conservatives will be relatively muted. Resistance will likely have to arise from the party activists; however, it is difficult to see how such a movement will coalesce in a timely manner, though fortunately they could conceivably rally around Chris Huhne or Simon Hughes.

That said, the Orange Book faction have several potent weapons in their rhetorical arsenal: they can present the party as a moderating influence on what otherwise might be a rapacious Conservative government. They can say they are putting country ahead of politics. If they win on issues such as tax reform, they can also claim a “David versus Goliath” victory. It is entirely possible that some sort of electoral reform, perhaps even a resurrection of the recommendations of the 1998 Jenkins Commission, will be put to a referendum. Such moves may rub balm on the inflamed sensitivities of Liberal Democrat voters and activists. However, tensions will remain: and while the Orange Book group may have enough in common with the Conservatives for a deal to be signed, it’s quite another for it to work on a day to day basis. That said, Labour politicians and others who believe that there is somehow a natural barrier between the Liberal Democrats and Conservatives are kidding themselves. They’re not taking into account the changed disposition of the Liberal Democrat Parliamentary Party, nor looking at the ideological currents which run underneath its public persona. It cannot be said strongly enough: under present circumstances, a deal is entirely possible. What may stay the leadership’s hand is the knowledge that any deal will be unstable, and the thought of the party splitting apart: this was a consequence of previous coalitions between the Liberals and Conservatives. Do the ghosts of Asquith and Lloyd George whisper warnings in Nick Clegg’s ear? Can the party activists raise their voices in time? Or will the Beveridge Group become an anachronism?

I don’t believe that the Orange Bookers are unaware of the risks they are taking; it doesn’t take much for a disagreement to turn into a split, and it may even be that Caroline Lucas isn’t alone for long. After all, the first Green member of the House of Lords, Lord Beaumont, was a defector from the Liberal Democrats. This outcome may seem fanciful at the moment, but this is a time when the range of possibilities is much wider than usual. It all hinges on the the deal and its dynamics, the variety of reactions to the bargain, and the consequences that may ripple outward. There are good reasons why so much caution is being mixed with silence about the negotiations; but it’s perhaps not due to the negotiations being impossible, it’s perhaps because they may be successful.

For me, this election only had two highlights. The first occurred when the voters of Belfast East made the most beautifully practical and rational choice they’ve made in recent memory: they elected Naomi Long of the non-sectarian, liberal Alliance Party to be their Member of Parliament. I’ve rarely seen an electorate rebuke corruption and depravity so eloquently. The other highlight was even more brilliant: Caroline Lucas’ win in Brighton Pavilion has been a giant step forward for the Green Party. Yes, the lack of other Green MPs does highlight how far the party has to go, but as the old saying goes, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, or in this case, seat.

These two results are bright specks of light in an otherwise dark and murky sky: overall, the election has been dreadfully inconclusive. As I sit here, Nick Clegg is being tailed around London by television cameras as if he was a latter-day Beatle: I can’t help but get some of the opening sequences of “A Hard Day’s Night” out of my mind upon viewing the intensity of his media hangers-on. Gordon Brown has largely remained hidden behind the locked door of Number 10. David Cameron is ensconced in Conservative HQ. The public statements so far have been cautious, nuanced, halting.

I was not unhappy with the idea of a hung (or “balanced”) parliament, but I dislike this particular hung parliament: the Liberal Democrat number of MPs is far too low, and the barriers thrown up by the present electoral system are more impenetrable than ever. In the previous election, it took in excess of 90,000 votes to elect a Liberal Democrat MP. Now it’s more than 120,000. Worse, some of the best and brightest of the Liberal Democrat parliamentary party (Dr. Evan Harris is a prominent example) lost their seats. The Conservatives were indeed rampant: they wrenched back Winchester and Romsey, and took away Montgomeryshire. The City of Chester fell, as did Portsmouth North, Brighton Kemptown and Hove. The result is a lopsided hung parliament, rather than a “balanced” one: it disproportionately benefits the Conservatives, and the numbers are probably sufficient for them to attempt a minority administration with the support of the Democratic Unionists. I’ve looked at the math for a “progressive” coalition, and cannot see it working without the Scottish Nationalists and Plaid Cmyru supporting it: this is a large ask. Indeed, even Caroline Lucas might be required to make the sums work, which would be an unusual position for someone who has just arrived at Westminster. A stable coalition of whatever stripe looks unlikely.

Nick Clegg is the man in the middle. His careful, nearly hesitant statement which suggested the Conservative Party should attempt to form the government if it can rule in the national interest is a reflection of the present dilemma: he knows that if he helps the Conservative Party, together they have the numbers to form a majority administration. However, he and his party have little in common with the Tories. He may want to do what’s right for the country by giving it a stable government, but how can it be anything other than unstable if the arrangement implies endless bickering? No doubt every permutation and mutation of the numbers is being gone through by Mr. Clegg and his counterparts: they may come to the conclusion that consensus is impossible. If so, by necessity, the focus of attention will shift elsewhere.

If it wouldn’t drown out the news, I would go upstairs, get my copy of Mussorgsky’s “Boris Godunov” and set it blaring on my stereo; for those who aren’t familiar with this work, its setting is during a period in Russian history known as “The Time of Troubles”, a chaotic interregnum between the end of the Riurik dynasty and the beginning of the reign of the Romanovs. The figure named in the title of this work was appointed by the Patriarch of Moscow to hold the throne: however his time was notable for famine, plot and instability. While I am not suggesting that we are entering a period as dire as this, when one asks the question, “Who is in control, really?”, the only honest answer is “no one”. David Cameron does not have the numbers, Gordon Brown does not have the authority, Nick Clegg’s relatively small mandate marks him as an also-ran. Our modern day British equivalent of the Patriarch of Moscow, the Queen, may have to make a judgement as to who can best lead. However it will be a guess, not a decision based on solid fact: a creaky political system that is not designed to cope with coalition government will reduce everything to estimates as to who can best survive. Yet the strongest party, and the one upon whom the charge of government may rest, wants to keep this system rather than abandon it for something more consensual and certain. It does not want to grow up and adopt the slow, deliberate bargaining between parties which is a fact of life throughout much of Europe.

I cannot see an administration with such a weak foundation lasting for long. I cannot see it being able to take decisive action insofar as the economy is concerned. I can see the electorate being subjected to even more wild swings of politics than we’ve experienced hitherto: this could lead to more demands for reform, or alternatively it could make the electorate so sick of politics that at the next time of asking, they may take an easier option and cement a party into place. This is perhaps the worst of this result: the election is theoretically over, however its machinations may carry on for months to come. We may be entering our own time of troubles; it’s possible that its resolution will not be to most people’s liking. One can hope that this can be avoided; if the electorate’s learning curve is ahead of the politicians, the demand for genuine change will outweigh petty manoeuvring at Westminster. On present form, however, this seems unlikely. The election is over, but it continues: a time for crossed fingers, sweaty palms and tense nerves is upon us.

In many respects, this is a day like any other. The alarm clock’s intervention was still unwelcome at 5 AM. The descent from the bedroom to the kitchen was still bleary eyed and stumbling. The coffee tasted as it usually does: bitter but enlivening. The early morning broadcasts from the World Service were more interested in Nigeria than Britain. The view of the sunrise from the landing was moderated by the presence of a thick layer of clouds.

Yet for all the things which are symmetrical with the normal patterns of the week, there was a thought which ricocheted through my mind: “In 24 hours, we will know so much more.”

I had my breakfast and watched the news: the local bulletin featured a gold coin collection which is now on display in Fareham. The shower was altogether typical: the fresh scent of the shower gel, which had vaguely antiseptic aroma, hit my nostrils and I fully awoke. Afterwards, putting on my clothes and shoes was routine. I then threw on my backpack and walked along the quiet, deserted street to where my car was parked.

In 24 hours, we will know so much more. This area, which has suffered from an absence of politics, may get a fresh jolt of it: earlier this week, I recalled, I finally got a leaflet from our absent Conservative MP. I wasn’t going to vote for him anyway; his endemic neglect of this constituency was cement poured on top of the coffin rather than a final nail in the lid. It struck me as interesting that he suddenly felt the need to tell his constituents that they came first and that he was devoted to their interests. Quotes from constituent letters also featured in the leaflet, all of them praising our local MP to the skies: one went so far as to say he was the best Member of Parliament the country had. Such expressions of gratitude had an almost post-coital air: too much, too extreme, to be seen as anything other than a mark of desperation. I suspect he suddenly noticed that there was an election, and was now furiously leafletting to try and shore up his support.

Too late, I thought, as I reached the car. Or rather I hoped. In 24 hours, we will know so much more. It could be that his decent Liberal Democrat opponent will be surprised with a mandate, and will be left scrambling to assemble a team to help him in Westminster. I’ve been to the House of Commons several times, and visited the offices of several MPs. I recall Westminster’s narrow, winding staircases and halls, the Victorian gloom of parts of the building, and the occasionally spectacular views, particularly from the balcony outside the Commons bar. I was simultaneously impressed and terrified. The Liberal Democrat candidate is a local councillor and a former schoolteacher; how would he react, I wondered, to arriving at such a place? I remember being told that the Conservatives have a bar in the Commons which they like, and Labour MPs have one which they frequent: if the Liberal Democrats do as well as the polls suggest, will they get one of their own? And what about the three to four Green MPs I hope will arrive? The Commons has some aspects of an American college fraternity; would the “established” parties try to be funny and leave out some wheatgrass smoothies for their new, Green counterparts?

I found my car, got in, and started my drive to work, again, down narrow and deserted streets. Signs of life in my town are few and far between before 7 AM. I passed by the entrance to the County Hall, where I will go vote later. My polling card, I recalled, lay on the table in the living room. I had arranged everything so all I have no errands to do once my working day is done: I even stocked the fridge full of fine St. Peters beer. I set up a mini-fridge in the television room, which will hold some additional bottles. The ingredients for an organic turkey Hungarian goulash have been purchased. After I arrive back, I will set the goulash to simmer in a casserole dish, exercise, shower, change, go vote. Dinner will then be served, and I’ll take up my place for the night, specifically glued to the television and internet, as the sun finally descends.

As I proceeded to drive along the dual carriageway, I finally found other human beings: at that time in the morning, there are a fair number of lorries and white vans headed off towards the west. The lorry from Belgium ahead of me: did the driver know what was happening today, I wondered? Did he care? The white van belonging to the carpenter from Cosham: was he voting later, or was he part of the Great Apathetic? He probably had Radio 2 on in his car, I thought: his vehicle swayed back and forth in its lane slightly, as if moving to a beat. Tomorrow, I mused, our relationship with the lorry’s point of origin, what tax the carpenter will pay, and what will be the disposition of the government towards my workplace, my university, will be much clearer.

I was discomfited when 7 o’clock arrived and I didn’t hear the familiar, friendly voice of Rob Cowan on Radio 3, rather it was Sara Mohr-Pietsch. Usually, I take that as a sign of a bad week; my musical education has been expanded by Mr. Cowan’s casual tutelage: I can’t say the same for his substitute. No government would surely take away Radio 3, I comforted myself, but they could make its life more miserable, or worse, make it more commercial: tomorrow, we will have a better idea if a campaign to save Radio 3 will be required.

I arrived at work, parked, and stopped for a moment to listen to a piece by Strauss entitled “Wahlstimme” (which means “vote”). I realised at that moment, the doors to a thousand different and distant polling places had already swung open. In my mind’s eye, I could picture a small local school, a town hall, a grey government building of Sixties’ architecture, with lines of people of all types filing in to cast their ballots. No doubt, we will soon see images of David Cameron, Gordon Brown and Nick Clegg casting their ballots in their constituencies, smiling nervously for the cameras’ benefit. We may not know right now what kind of government we will have, but at least there is succour to be had in knowing that the machinery of democracy, the ballot paper, the cross against the name, the ballot box, the dedicated council workers who will be up late doing the count, are all in place. Now is the moment in which the nation simultaneously acts and holds its breath. Tomorrow, we’ll know. We will cope. We will carry on. Hopefully, we will also progress.

I’ve experienced this election mostly through the medium of social networking; Twitter, Facebook and a variety of online news sources have provided an endless stream of fact, opinion, counter-fact and counter-opinion. At this point, three days out, it seems to have blended into a glutinous and incoherent mass of Arial Bold and Times New Roman. The latest furore is indicative: it concerns Philippa Stroud, the Tory candidate for Sutton & Cheam, who believes that gay people can be “cured” through prayer; some have difficulty understanding why the media isn’t covering this in more detail. With respect, a story about a homophobic Conservative candidate has the same shock value as one which describes bears defecating in the woods; it would have been much more newsworthy if she was a militant atheist who had married her girlfriend in a civil ceremony while out on the hustings. However, the larger picture has been lost in the process of expressing (righteous) outrage: Sutton and Cheam is more likely to stay Liberal Democrat now, which surely is a relief to those who live there.

Overall, no one knows what’s going to happen: this is both exciting and terrifying. A week from now, we may have a new government, the same government, or no government at all. We may be choking on nonsense about the “Big Society”, or chortling at guff about “tough, long term decisions” or watching MPs of all political stripes pile in and out of a lengthy negotiation, the Civil Service doing its best to keep the wheels turning in the interim as bond traders compulsively bite their fingernails.

All this is possible, and attempts to predict the outcome can seem futile. On Sunday, Andrew Marr asked David Cameron, “You’re on a roll, aren’t you?” The instant reaction among the Twitterati was incredulous anger; this appeared to be the manifestation of inexcusable bias. But perhaps Marr’s query was less a question (or statement) about the present state of the Conservative campaign. Rather, it may have been an expression of a plaintive hope: is there not going to be clarity, are you not going to win, if not, what will happen? Yes, it is more likely that Marr would like to know who he should be buttering up; but he may have also unconsciously stated a human desire which runs in contra to human nature: we desire stability and to be able to plot out a secure future, yet we are unpredictable beings. Here we are, staring “irreducible uncertainty” in the face: what will happen all depends on individual decisions in individual constituencies, based upon the relative value or worthlessness of individual candidates. The sum at the end of these calculations is unknown: some would say it’s now time to panic.

However, there is a glimmer amidst the descending gloom: our present ambiguity means the most probable outcome is a far weaker Government than we’ve had for the past thirteen years. Wishing for an enfeebled state may seem go against the grain, given our (altogether human) aversion to chaos; furthermore, we face some very unpleasant choices in terms of taxation and spending, which intuition suggests can only be imposed by a strong central authority. Let’s “get real”: while much of the present deficit is due to the economic slowdown and the massive bailout of the banks, there is a substantial chunk which is structural. In order to fix it, there will need to be either tax rises, spending cuts or a combination of both. It’s not something that simply can be brushed under the carpet either: sorry, but romantic Trotskyists and their ilk need to realise that even the Soviet Union had a credit rating. Voters know this, but don’t want to accept it; the politicians’ fudging of the issue is a reflection of popular unwillingness to grasp this particular nettle.

But Leviathan may not be the answer. It has already proven itself incapable of sorting out our deeper problems: the accrual of vast powers of surveillance and the crimping of civil liberties by the present government have not stopped crime nor ended terrorism. Centrally-imposed targets have not in and of themselves made education or the health service better; in many instances, the “target culture” has had to be abandoned. Worse, the stronger the government, the more likely it is to stumble into mistakes without hindrance, conditions or constraint: Britain’s disastrous participation in the Iraq war is perhaps the most powerful recent example. Practical experience thus suggests that what is counter-intuitive is what is required in this instance.

A weak government, or rather, one that is reliant on achieving a political consensus which reflects the opinion of the majority, will have to discuss issues in depth, not only with the factions which comprise it, but also with the wider population. Additionally, given the public’s now heightened suspicion of politicians, the government will have to work much harder to convince and persuade. This represents far more of a “Big Society” than anything proposed by the Conservatives, as it implies a system in which citizens are healthily involved in choosing the direction the country will take. Unfortunately for the Conservatives, it also implies the nation is unlikely to go their way; as Johann Hari has suggested, the combined percentages of Labour, Liberal Democrat and Green support highlight that Britain is a “liberal-left” country.

If indeed “weak government” proves a success in solving our present problems, it may well be that its triumph provides further impetus for substantial electoral reform. From then on in, governments which cannot persuade will fall. Yes, in this scenario, elections may become more frequent. There is also the potential that the kind of tussle that could take place after May 6th will become a permanent feature of the political landscape. The human desire for stability groans in pain at this point; our boredom detectors sound the alarm. But exhale a moment, and grasp the possibility: what may emerge from the mess is a new politics, a more considered politics, a more participatory politics and for all its rough edges, a better politics.

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.