Now and Benn

Contemporary Review, Nov, 2004 by David McVey

TO fill an auditorium nowadays, whatever the event, you need impact. Stirring background music, lasers, lighting, a sense of ostentatious extravaganza. Strange, then, that a grey-haired seventy-eight-year-old man has an established record of packing them in simply by talking for forty minutes and answering questions from the floor using no more technological trickery than a microphone and a clay pipe. Tony Benn is one of few remaining speakers who can attract a crowd simply by talking about politics.

Tonight the venue is the University of Paisley, a former mill town to the south-west of Glasgow. Benn enters the room--a dingy lecture hall, chosen because the more modern room originally designated could not have coped with the numbers--to warm applause. Disappointingly, there is no sign of his famous pipe: University smoking regulations have seen to that. He sits in a specially provided comfortable leather armchair, in front of display boards plugging the University's mission and achievements, a backdrop of slogans and soundbytes and sales pitch. Several smart but indistinguishable young men in dark suits (from the University's Corporate Communications arm) fuss with microphones, direct latecomers to the remaining seats and strut self-importantly around the platform.

The University Principal briefly (but haltingly, since his microphone is malfunctioning--never an encouraging sign in a technology-based seat of learning) introduces Mr Benn, and then the speaker rises and stands at a small lectern. There are perhaps 250 people in the room, mostly University staff with a sprinkling of students and a few local people and dignitaries--a former Provost of the local council is pointed out to me.

In his opening remarks, Benn explains why he is a not inappropriate choice to address an audience in Paisley: his mother was born in the town, and his great-great-grandfather was its Provost. Hence, not only the invitation to deliver the lecture, but also his earlier honorary doctorate of the University, and the newly unveiled bust (by renowned local sculptor Sandy Stoddart) commissioned by the University.

Benn's theme, a favourite one, is 'Democracy'. The lecture is delivered in an informal, anecdotal manner, rich in allusion, reminiscence (rarely do you get to listen to someone who can say 'I remember when I asked Winston Churchill in Parliament ...') and example. The one-liners are delivered with timing many stand-ups would envy: 'They say now that if you phone up the railways to find out train times, you get put through to a call centre in Delhi. That's nothing: call 10 Downing Street and you get put straight through to the White House ...' and 'They should rename Prime Minister's Questions as Gardeners' Question Time, because so many of the questions are planted'.

Benn's thesis is that democracy is an inherently radical idea, something that, historically, has had to be struggled for, and something that will always be threatened by those in power. He stresses that, in his view, the hierarchies that form within human structures tend to become demanding and self-perpetuating. He cannot have failed to notice that the front two rows in the hall have been reserved for the University's senior management. If he wants to find a visual aid to the concept of hierarchy, he doesn't have to look far--but perhaps he's too polite to mention it.

Whether or not the audience agree with this thesis--actually quite familiar to anyone who has heard or read Benn before--they can hardly argue about the immediacy of the issue. Some 400 miles south of here, the Prime Minister is on the same day entertaining the President of the United States. Both speaker and audience are fully aware of the issues raised by the Presidential visit. How democratic is Blair's alliance with Bush's America? How do we express our opinions about it?

Benn peppers his talk with biblical quotations and allusions and refers to 'the strong Christian traditions of democracy and equality'. For him, unlike many who line up alongside him, Christianity and Islam are not enemies or targets, instead, 'the most powerful religion ... is those who worship money'. Perhaps I imagine it, but there seems to be a frisson from the Business School staff present when he denounces Management Consultants as the priests of this nefarious faith.

Both in his talk and in the subsequent question and answer session, Benn makes clear his concern about the current plague of voter apathy, though he does not see it as 'apathy'. Rather, he considers that as many people as ever are interested in politics and policies, but are disengaged by the way the system functions. They stay away from the polling booths not because they do not care, but rather because they care too much to associate themselves with a Parliament where 'they are being managed, not represented', and where Prime Minister's Questions is simply 'a ritual exchange of abuse'. Benn tells of being a backbench MP under the New Labour regime, how a daily fax appears from party HQ in the form of press release already made out in his own name for forwarding to his local newspapers. 'It would start off "Tony Benn MP today welcomed ..." and I'd have to read on to see what it was that I was welcoming'.