Lots of things have become apparent in the run-up to this election.
But perhaps one of the more disturbing ones I noticed, as we endeavoured to get responses from constituents as to what they thought mattered, was that some thought they might face repercussions for speaking out.
This wasn’t restricted to one demographic, or one constituency, and we’re not always talking about the light-hearted “I better not say anything because I’ll get myself in trouble” comments. There were genuine concerns in some cases about the possible impact on their business or another area of their life, if they spoke out too much.
For what it’s worth, I still believe that most candidates and politicians would be horrified at that perception.
The fact that perception can and does exist – and possibly with some substance in isolated cases – is a big worry.
I hope it is mostly an unsubstantiated fear.
But it has been lent credence in the past decade by the increasingly sensitive attitude, bordering on petulant, of many politicians when criticised.
Given the reported incident in Ayre and Michael, let’s be absolutely clear, that’s not criticism. We’ll leave that for the police to deal with.
Such actions and similar, along with personal insults and any kinds of threats, are not what this is about.
It’s about legitimate criticism that everyone is entitled to make of their political leaders.
Smelling Salts
I’ve been around quite a long time, as plenty have been kind enough to remind me. And there have always been sensitive souls in the House of Keys who called for smelling salts at the merest slight.
But the last couple of administrations have been something else.
I believe a former chief minister (not the most recent former chief minister and not anyone contesting this election), had to be talked out of sending an official response from his office to complain about an article I’d written.
What was my crime?
It was to raise concerns that a Tynwald vote, one that effectively freed the passage for the government to buy the Steam Packet, was taken without any public debate, apart from one MHK who hadn’t got the memo and quickly sat down, wilting under the glares from his colleagues.
After I expressed my astonishment at such a behind closed doors stitch-up, I had friendly MHKs nodding sympathetically but telling me not to worry, it was all fine.
The only other person in the Chamber who seemed surprised at the blushing reluctance of elected politicians to debate such a fundamental decision in public was the then President of Tynwald, Steve Rodan.
I have no doubt that part of the reason for this decision being taken effectively in private – and we can save the debate of how it’s all worked out for another day – was that we had entered an era when our leaders were so thin-skinned could not bear to be questioned closely or publicly, let alone criticised.
Upsetting Politicians
Upsetting chief ministers and other politicians is kind of a raison d’ệtre for political reporters.
It goes with the territory.
There are plenty of other political commentators out there, including our very own Charlie Morrey, who have earned opprobrium for daring to air an opinion.
It doesn’t even have to be controversial stuff. And it’s not always the MHKs themselves.
There was one instance when the mildest of sketch pieces saw friends of an MHK circling the wagons to express outrage that a really mild – and I mean really mild – piece of gentle fun had appeared.
Chatting with Chief Ministers
I still talk to a few former chief ministers – I know, get me.
These were people with whom I crossed swords many a time back in the day. There’s one who, before reaching the top of the pile, had resigned as a cabinet minister as a result of a story I was covering.
You know what they all did – and that particular minister at the time did? They accepted legitimate criticism and scrutiny.
It even worked out slightly less badly for that particular minister because he realised he would be allowed his say and, in those halcyon days of print news and no internet, it meant he got his side of the story on the front page of the next edition. (Something to the effect he was pushed, rather than he jumped.)
The point is they understood the importance of scrutiny and knew that it was part of the job, even when it wasn’t so good for them.
As one of those former CMs mentioned last week, that’s no longer the case.
There were always some like who didn’t get it.
One very senior politician once launched a Tynwald debate on the media, ostensibly as a result of some of the things I, and one or two others, said. Yet in later years, he decided I was the best person to ask about the likely media reaction, when mulling a political return. (Again, not this election.)
Allergic to Scrutiny
The last two administrations, both on the front benches and the back, have seen a steady increase in allergic reactions to valid criticism and necessary scrutiny.
Although this is hardly surprising, considering the lack of interest many have had in applying any scrutiny of their own.
No one wants a social media free-for-all in terms of having a go at others.
But we also do not want politicians who throw a hissy fit at the slightest criticism, or who get their coterie to throw a wobbly on their behalf.
Learn to Handle It
If you want to be a politician, then you are going to have to learn to accept that you will be criticised.
As long as it doesn’t cross the line into abuse or misinformation, then just because you don’t agree with that criticism does not invalidate it; nor does it undermine the right for someone to dish it out.
We want politicians who know how to handle criticism and how to engage in constructive debate, instead of aggressive retorts or simpering bleats.
My message to all candidates, as they contemplate the possibility of a life in politics, is this:
Good luck.
But you’re gonna need to grow some.
You can read Charlie Morrey’s latest opinion piece, that so far has produced plenty of comment but not so much bleating, here:
Charlie’s Angle: Are We Screwed? – Manx.News
And you can catch up on the latest from Speller’s Election Diary here: