In case you hadn’t noticed, we are currently in the midst of a General Election.
Tomorrow, as we are unceasingly informed, we, the British public will be allowed to vote in ‘one of the most unpredictable elections in recent memory’. Presumably, this means that, as usual, the outcome will be one of two parties, but it is slightly less certain which of them than it was last time. Although the editors of the Daily Mail, Telegraph, Times and Sun are frothing themselves up into a frenzy about the impending threat of a government that is not blue and centre-right, the rest of us know with a sinking sense of sadness, that despite the furor, emerging minority parties, smear campaigns and countless images of politicians eating pork products, this election is really no different from the usual.
Labour and Conservative still lead from the front, each tirelessly insisting that they oppose the other entirely, but members of which can be found holding hands in the Primrose Hill Class of 1970 portrait. The minority parties are still considered a ‘wasted vote’, and those of us with anything less than conventional, political hopes and dreams are told to vote ‘tactically’, and take part in some sort of bizarre quiz show-esque masquerade in order to ‘keep the right/left in/out’ like a political hokey cokey.
As you can probably sense, I am less than enthused about my voting opportunity tomorrow. At the age of 24, this is not my first active election. However, as is explained in this previous post, not only was I very much out of the country at the time of 2010’s, I was in a state of deep, deep confusion and despair with regards who to vote for. As much as I probably did not research to the upmost of my ability in the run-up to last voting day, none of the primary coloured options were in any way attractive to me. Only the slightly enticing, unequivocal promise that tuition fees would be cut extended a beckoning finger of temptation to vote for the Lib Dems. And thank God I didn’t, or my disengagement would be so irreparable I’d have likely set up my own self-governed commune in a discarded cardboard box.
Suffice to say, my attitude has not altered a great deal five years later. What has altered however, is the unstoppable, bulldozing force of social media, and its increasingly prominent role in modern politics. I am sure that parties like UKIP, Greens and the SNP would not have anywhere near the gravitas and leverage they do (albeit pitifully small in the grand scheme of things) without Twitter. I am also sure, truly, madly and deeply, that the one-man-regenerator Ed Miliband would still be the slimy, nasal, bacon-slurping loser he was previously considered, and not the silver-tongued, salt-and-pepper sex symbol he has transformed into with a seamless flair that Miley Cyrus’ publicist could only dream of, if Twitter had not intervened.
If someone had suggested to me in 2010 that it was permissible to fantasise openly about a politician, let alone vote for them fuelled by said fantasy, I would have choked on my bacon sarnie. Granted, the Labour option at the time of Gordon Brown was slightly less palatable, but even the notion that any MP would have a following of underage fan-girls claiming that ‘at first it was a joke, but now I think I legit fancy Ed Miliband’ would have been more than laughable. Sadly for Eddy Boy, his legions of pre-teen lusters won’t be able to help vote him into power tomorrow, and to be honest, I’m not sure I want to imagine a Britain whereby the number 1 pin-up for school children is our actual prime-minister.
Of course, Ed has not just managed to nab himself headlines and column inches on account of his unsettling brand of sex-appeal. Last week, my respect for the man increased a million-fold, when he agreed to be interviewed by my only political hero and tentative revolutionary, Russell Brand. ll 100%. Of course, he is painfully idealistic and perhaps a dash naïve, but to be honest, I was down with that. After the wearing apathy and disappointment of my previous political awareness, I was more than ready for a bit of blind optimism. So when this unlikely union was first publicised, my inner activist was jubilant – ‘Go on Russ! Take him down like you slaughtered Paxman!’
The conception of MiliBrand was, I have to say, a slight disappointment. Far from the rallying cries against tired cliché and worn-out rhetoric that Russell unleashed at countless former opponents, from Paxman to Sean Hannity, Peter Hitchens to, most recently, David Cameron himself, the interview was replete with acquiescence, acceptance and far too much politeness for my liking. Far from persuading me that the only way is Ed, the interview in fact made me question my unrelenting, lifelong allegiance to the Brand agenda. How can someone so unshakably passionate about eschewing the current, tired paradigm of British politics be so easily won over, by a guy in a suit, unwittingly mimicking an estuary accent, who, at best, can only promise not to make any promises he can’t keep? I felt my heart sink a good inch with every passing minute of the video.
Call me stupid, call me sixth-form, call me basic, even call me maybe, but to me, Russell was the only beacon of hope in an otherwise bleak outlook. Listening to him speak, watching him destroy the time-worn foundations of capitalism with just a well-chosen phrase, following his growing band of converts – this ignited within me a spark of passion and appetite for action, change and progression, caused my inner self to respond ‘Yes! That’s exactly it! You’re right!’ Perhaps this does make me a simplistic, juvenile, gullible fool, but all I can say is that same inner spark has never even flickered for the words of any conventional politician. And that alone says more than any wedge of leaflets, weeks of campaign trail, or even cross in a box.
Then the unthinkable happened – Russell decided to endorse voting for Labour, and my shakily built fort of truth and belief collapsed.
In the linked article, he explains his reasons for this complete U-turn of opinion, but frankly, I don’t want to hear it. There is undeniably logic underpinning his reasoning, but it is the logic I have been fighting against for months, every time a friend proffers it, simply because I knew Russell would always provide me with justification that I was doing the right thing. Not anymore I guess.
So will I vote Labour? I can honestly say I am torn. One half of me mutters ‘well, we do need the Tories out of power, and this is clearly the only way. Voting Green won’t work in your constituency, they have no influence…’ Whilst the other half screams ‘NO!! What are you doing??! This wasn’t what we agreed for our utopia!’
At the heart of my rage, and the strongest force that will be pulling back my hand as I reach for the stubby pencil, is simply this: our voting system is NOT true democracy. This fact used to be at the heart of Russell’s anti-establishment rage, and, perhaps, he still believes it. God I hope he does. But, it remains, that voting Labour to prevent the Tories from maintaining power, not being able to vote Green, a party whose policies I do mostly believe in, because it will make no difference to the outcome, swapping my vote with someone in a different constituency in the hope of having slightly more impact – these are not examples of a functioning democratic system. When considering out loud not voting at all, I am constantly beaten with rusty old clichés about the suffragettes fighting for the vote, soldiers fighting for democracy and political freedom. Do we really believe that what we have now is what they fought for? Really? A repeated battle for seats in the Houses of Parliament that haven’t seen a lick of paint or major reform since the 1800s, the same two parties who have held the fort for the past 200 years still the only ones in serious contention, the majority of MPs killing time between prime-minister’s questions reminiscing together about their days at Eton, and, worst of all, me having to vote for a party I don’t believe in, so that one I don’t believe in more are kept at bay, because it will have more impact than voting for a party I believe in at least a bit? If this is the democratic paradise they envisaged when charging across foreign fields and chaining themselves to railings, I’m not sure they should have bothered.
It seems to me, that if we live in a country whereby the run up to a General Election is saturated with such a rhetoric, something needs to change. The other night, I (accidentally of course) flicked over to ITV, only to find a hideous resurrection of Spitting Image called Newzoids. I watched, from sheer horror-struck fascination, a plethora of sketches featuring all manner of public figures judder and jar their way across the screen. In one, the puppet counterpart of David Cameron was shown being carried along on a gold-plated throne by George Osborne and Eric Pickles, themselves sporting monacles and pocket handkerchiefs. In another, they hold a summit with Boris Johnson to ascertain why it is that despite him being, as they are, hopelessly upper-class, he is still popular with ‘the common people’. All this whilst Ed Miliband dances around a pole to the Pussycat Dolls’ ‘Don’t Cha’.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a bit of political satire as much as the next guy (unless the next guy is Nigel Farage), but in all honesty, how am I supposed to process such television as a young, disenchanted voter? How am I supposed to laugh at the truthful depiction of the Tory MPs’ unfathomable privilege, but when it comes to voting, disregard it completely? How can politics be considered a joke in one situation and the only thing that matters in another?
As for what on earth I am going to do tomorrow, when stood in that little booth, pencil in hand, hopelessness in my heart and bleakness ahead, I still have no idea. One thing I do know however, is that whatever box I fill out in there, it won’t be anywhere near as important, or make anywhere near as much difference, as the boxes I filled out here today – www.change.org – Reform Our Voting System.