During Sky News’ morning-after analysis of the second debate between Nick Clegg, David Cameron and Gordon Brown, one commentator had this to say about The Sun’s poll, which showed that Cameron had come out best in the debate: “Were we watching the same programme?”
I laughed out loud and empathised. I often feel that way when I read accounts of political discussions that are then given a spin and presented to us in a way that is completely surreal.
Spin is part and parcel of politics, of course, but as this same commentator pointed out, the immediacy provided by online comments means no one is waiting around for surveys or opinion makers to tell them what to think anymore. If anything, the decision to hold presidential-style debates for the first time in British political history has provided voters with the opportunity to participate directly more than ever before.
As had happened the week before, viewers watched this second debate and commented on it in real time, giving free rein to what struck them the most, whether it was Gordon Brown’s unfortunate attempts at smiling or David Cameron’s fakery. Nick Clegg, the new kid on the block, was equally lambasted, mostly for appearing to be out of his depth and trying to ride on the wave of the previous week’s popularity. Mostly, the debates were criticised for reducing politics to The X Factor syndrome, with several voters caustically asking why no telephone numbers were appearing on the screen so they could “vote someone off”.
The thing with television is that you end up basing your reaction to a politician purely on what he looks like. So when I saw Cameron I had an immediate visceral revulsion towards his egg-shaped head and pink complexion. Clegg, while attractive enough, looks about 12 years old. As for Brown, just one word: scary.
Are those good enough reasons to vote or not for vote someone? No, of course not, but that’s TV for you.
Compare and contrast
I am finding these debates intriguing if only for their comparison value.
Just like in Malta, audience reaction is signalling just how fed up the electorate is with politicians who feel that sound bites and empty rhetoric are what make a good leader. Some people in the UK are questioning the point of these debates, and openly wondering whether the ability to answer a question in one minute will tell them anything concrete about the policies of the respective candidates. Above all, the debates have been dubbed as a kind of ‘style over substance’ phenomenon, with damning accusations that they are too ‘American’. For a lot of British people (as well as a lot of Maltese, incidentally) anything that smacks of America is superficial and cannot really be taken seriously.
It did not help matters when Brown, of all people, started adopting American slang: “Get real”, he told Clegg, more than once. That really had viewers spluttering.
I often hear people in Malta complaining about how much they cannot stand the American-isms that have crept into our culture – the complaints usually come from those who are either staunchly pro-British or pro-Italian in their affinities, which harks back to when Malta was divided along politico-cultural lines in its sympathy for these two countries.
They bristle when they hear children and teenagers adopting expressions from their favourite cable TV shows and practically go into cardiac arrest if they hear the word “yeah”.
I suppose it’s understandable – change is hard, as well as inevitable. But I couldn’t help but smile when I heard the British Prime Minister using the word “guys”.
It’s all in the accent
Another similarity between the British election and what happens here is the emphasis being placed on the social class of the three candidates.
Cameron is a product of Eton, Britain’s most prestigious private school. In other words, as his accent and bearing so readily testify, he is considered posh, although his critics prefer to use the more inflammatory word ‘elite’. As it turns out, though, Clegg was also private school-educated at Westminster. Until recently, however, only Cameron was being criticised for his privileged upbringing, presumably because Clegg had kept quiet about his background for fear it would alienate middle-class and working-class voters.
Gordon Brown, on the other hand, is proudly middle class, and is not ashamed of his humble roots.
But what is all this about class anyway? Does one’s socio-economic background really matter when it comes to assessing prime minister potential? Apparently it does.
“People tend to vote for the candidate who represents their social class and origins, the candidate whom they identify about class anyway? Does one’s socio-economic background really matter when it with,” says Andrew Cooper founder of the media centre Populus.
In Malta, the pinpointing of one’s class often boils down to one’s accent in English.
There was an interesting discussion on Facebook (where else?) about this business of accents, with people criticising the often painful pronunciation by certain dignitaries we heard delivering speeches during the Pope’s visit.
RP (Received Pronunciation, or what is also known as the ‘Queen’s English’) was distinctly missing. The heavy Maltese accent was clearly audible, the vowels were all over the place and the “r” was anything but silent. Personally, these things don’t bother me as much as they do other people, although I do have a problem with simple words that are clearly mispronounced. I heard someone say “decades” and mangled it so badly it took me a minute to understand what he meant.
The crux of the matter, of course, is that RP and fluency in English is an indicator of where one went to school and, by extension, one’s social class. St Edward’s and St Aloysius old boys, for example, can be recognised immediately. Women who attended church schools have similar distinctive accents. And while the Britishness of the accent has been dissolved, the 20-somethings who are the first generation to come out of independent schools are easily identifiable.
Everyone else tends to speak English with a pronounced Maltese accent. Ergo, they must have attended government schools and junior lyceums (which is often interpreted as meaning that their parents could not afford private education, but could also mean that they were against private schools in principle).
So yes, accents are an indicator of sorts. The ‘right’ kind of English accent means you are not part of the hoi polloi.
Where I don’t agree is when people make sweeping statements that one’s accent or social class has something to do with intelligence, competence or some kind of perceived superiority.
As I have often pointed out, except for those of a certain generation, too many English speakers attempt a British accent but don’t quite manage and it ends up sounding like an affectation, or a bad parody of someone doing a British accent. Add completely wrong syntax and grammar, and your ears will start bleeding. As for ignorance, I assure you that it’s multi-lingual.
More significantly, I have heard heavily accented English from our politicians on both sides of the House, and I find it interesting that those who speak “posh” aren’t necessarily those who get the most votes.
So maybe most people do vote for those to whom they can relate, after all.
Where the similarity stops
The one-month British election campaign, unlike ours, is going to be mercifully brief.
But there is another issue over which there is no comparison: people criticise the politicians as opposed to the supporters. I haven’t noticed anyone calling anyone else names just because he supports an opposing political party. Here, however, even columnists routinely engage in name-calling and insults of supporters of the opposing side, which to me has never made any sense.
In a country where the scales can be tipped for or against a party by a few hundred votes (just 750 votes last time, remember?) why on earth would you want to alienate potential swing-voters by calling them ignorant, evil, stupid, backwards and so on and so forth?
Even if someone has ‘switched sides’, so to speak, and started voting Nationalist, would they be happy that you are describing their Labour-voting working-class parents (for example) as if they were one step removed from Neanderthal man?
Unless someone is so completely ashamed of their roots that they have severed all ties with their family, I would think that voting for a party that tacitly condones such name-calling would be the ultimate betrayal.
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