There is a remarkably thin line between novel and novelty. In the past six weeks, Ed Davey, a serial political campaigning rule violator who just happens to be the leader of the freshly triumphant Liberal Democrats, appears to have used that thin line as a conduit for electoral success.
The bare necessities to be taken seriously in the political establishment in Britain apparently include: a navy blue overgarment, white shirt, received pronunciation, Churchillian references and a reasonably photogenic (or at least elusive) spouse. But Davey has shown us an alternative way.
Apparently competing with Niko Omilana for his job, Davey has used this campaign to bungee jump from a crane, ride a bike down a steep road, fall into (possibly faeces-laden) waters, launch his manifesto from a theme park, engage in wheelbarrow racing, Zumba dance-offs and more. Commentators have traditionally labelled these kinds of hijinks “gaffes”, worthy of a political tombstone. After the Lib Dems’ seismic gains last night, perhaps that will change.
Davey could convincingly point to these stunts as the “rocket fuel” that has transformed the Liberal Democrats from post-coalition irrelevance to the third largest party. After all, more seats turned orange in this election than they ever did under the leadership of the conventional campaigners Paddy Ashdown, Charles Kennedy, Nick Clegg, Jo Swinson or Tim Farron.
So how did Davey turn what would have been any other politician’s cringeworthy gaffe into seat-winning momentum? Boris Johnson, also an alternative campaigner, never shy about putting his body or dignity at risk for a vote or even just a laugh, attained popularity through similar stunts. Yet Johnson, unlike Davey, always gave the impression that behind the jokes was a joke: a trivial buffoon. Unlike Johnson, however, behind Davey’s comedic persona appears to be a person of integrity, compassion, principles and intellect.
In TV terms, Davey’s campaign stunts were something of a daily inciting incident, a hook to keep the cameras on him and to keep voters watching and wondering: “What happens next in this train wreck?” But with the few seconds of undivided public attention he had gained, he sombrely launched into a disciplined and serious party message. His attention-grabbing, humanising and brand-detoxifying silliness was buttressed by serious substance. And nowhere did this emerge more than when Davey spoke of being a carer for his son, John.
Bringing your family, and particularly your children, into the political realm is fraught with risk. It can lead to accusations of emotional blackmail, opportunism or outright manipulation. The former agriculture minister John Gummer is remembered principally for publicly feeding his four-year-old daughter a burger in order to assuage fears about the dangers of “mad cow disease” (BSE).
Sunak, who did much more to enable racism than combat it, evoked the pain of his daughters having to see him being subject to serious racist abuse at the hands of a Reform UK campaigner. Davey didn’t use his son as an opportunistic prop to score a political point; he used his own story and experience to demonstrate the plight of carers. Where Sunak and Gummer captured eyes and ears, Davey spoke to hearts and minds, generating genuine empathy for others. Could this be politics at its most humane and people-focused?
Against this backdrop, one of commitment to family, service and unconditional love, Davey’s bungee jumping and paddleboarding stunts suddenly seemed more profound, more human, lovable; and with them, his party started to look genuinely electable once more. From a rope, harnessed at great height, Davey has swung towards his party’s best election results ever.
Nels Abbey is a writer, broadcaster and former banker. He is the author of Hip-Hop MBA: Lessons in Cut-Throat Capitalism from Rap’s Moguls and the founder of Uppity: The Intellectual Playground
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