Don't call me cultured

Spectator, The, Oct 21, 2000 by Wyatt, Petronella

Peter Ainsworth, the shadow culture minister, tells Petronella Wyatt that he prefers doggerel to Dickens

PETER Ainsworth is one of the shadow Cabinet ministers who, after Ann Widdecombe's crackdown-on-dope speech, confessed to having smoked cannabis. Recently, a broadsheet newspaper accused him of having had links with the National Front while an undergraduate at Oxford University. Apart from this, however, the world knows little of Hague's culture spokesman.

How cultured is he, for instance? Could he recall the last serious novel he read? When was the last time he went to see a performance of Shakespeare? Or was he, like Chris Smith, a cultural relativist who thought that Bob Dylan was as good as Keats?

It was in this spirit of inquiry that I presented myself at Mr Ainsworth's office at 7 Millbank in Westminster. He appeared in a blue shirt. In his cuffs were links shaped like treble clefs (was this a sign of culture, perhaps?). At 44 years old, he has gingery hair and fleshy features that end in a protuberant nose with some of the characteristics of a root vegetable. There is a startling resemblance between Mr Ainsworth and the Tory comedian Jim Davidson.

I asked him whether he liked being known as the shadow culture minister. Didn't it make him sound a bit like an aspiring Goering? Ainsworth laughed. `Well, the word culture is a problem. It doesn't sound very English. The word is slightly off-putting to some and means too many different things.' What did he imply by that? Was he referring to what some call the cultural divide between metropolitan and rural Britain?

He was. `To Ken Livingstone, for instance, culture is clubbing, and to others it is the arts. There is a growing gap between the lifestyles of the urban sophisticated elite and the rest of us.' He warmed to his theme. `The arts have become suborned by the government in furtherance of political objectives. It's almost programming.'

The Dome was at the top of Ainsworth's hit-list. He spluttered, `The Dome has nothing to do with the arts. It is a tawdry symbol of a government obsessed by gimmicks and being bossy.'

He leant forward like an athlete in the starting blocks. This appeared during the course of our interview to be a characteristic posture - whether from eagerness or nerves it was difficult to tell.

I wondered whether Ainsworth, as a free-market Tory, approved of the principle of state funding of the arts. I mean, would Sir Robert Peel have favoured subsidising Covent Garden? His answer surprised me. He claimed that `throughout history' the state had performed the role of patron of the arts.

Eh? But what about all those 18th-century private patrons? There was no government subsidy. Ainsworth answered, `But the Elector of Hanover was the state. What I mean is there should indeed be money given to arts from somewhere. It's all very well asking why do we give taxpayers' money to the opera, but if we didn't, the tickets would be way out of reach of everyone but investment bankers.'

I argued that they still were and, in any case, was it fair and Tory-like to make people who would rather be at a pop concert subsidise Sir Harrison Birtwistle?

He shook his head. `An investment in the arts is one in everybody; it's a statement about the quality of all our lives. People in the arts are unhappy with the government, for the major reason that no money comes now without strings attached.'

I asked whether he was pleased that the 'luvvies' seemed to be deserting Labour. He wagged an admonishing finger. `Don't say "luvvie". I have abolished the word "luvvie" from the political language. It is a term of abuse. I don't mind what their political persuasions are, but they are well-intentioned people, they do good in the world.' I said he made them sound like Santa's elves.

Moving on to another of his briefs, sport, I wondered if he thought that the large number of medals that British athletes won at the Sydney Olympics were a vindication of state subsidy of sport?

Again, surprisingly, he did. `It has a lot to do with lottery money funding elite training for athletes.' This is a very Keynsian view. Lady Thatcher would be turning in her suburban mansion. `Well, you have the French, Italians and Russians taking sport seriously and funding training. Amateurism will not lead to success. Professionalism lifts our international reputation and our pride. Patriotism is part of being a Tory, too.'

Obviously this is Hague's new freemarket lite. But talking of national pride, what would he do about Rupert Murdoch? Did he think Murdoch should retain control of the gateway to digital television or should he be forced to open it up to all broadcasters?

Ainsworth looked uncomfortable. Then he said carefully, 'I hope the government will address the balance of broadcasting in its forthcoming White Paper, but I don't accept that Murdoch has a stranglehold.' Really? `Well, that is the popular mythology. But his power is overstated. Sky has a small part of the overall viewing figures. It is very hard for any one person to have dominance.'