One of this blog’s new contributors, Halina Ward, is currently in Copenhagen at the Climate Change Conference. The main reason she is there is to write a post for us (ahem). One thing she has passed on to me is a scepticism about the problems surrounding ‘bottom up’ solutions to the problem of carbon emissions. Rugby players know what a hospital pass is, and it seems to me that we present politicians with one when we demand such solutions.

It seems to me that carbon emissions will only be cut by governments that are possessed with what Machiavelli described as Virtù – the historical vitality that only comes from a high level of legitimacy. Machiavelli had in mind a Prince who had successfully marshaled a population to liberate them from a despotic neighbour. In modern terms, it is a politician that can command some respect. One thinks of Tony Blair in 1997 or Mrs Thatcher after the Falklands.

The biggest challenge facing those who wish to cut carbon emissions is the distorting impact that pressure groups will have in frustrating the general will. Not some referendum snapshot, but the willing action of elected representatives to act in the public interest once they’ve reflected upon it properly. Their distributed moral wisdom. The idea that community organisations have the capacity to take on the might of those commercial pressure groups is the purest of fantasies.

Disrupting this ability is strongly in the interests of such pressure groups. It’s hard to avoid the conclusion that those who have promoted the anti-politics mood in the UK have been the (un)witting allies of wealthy lobbyists.

Andrew Collinge has a really good post over on the LGIU blog. He’s picking up on an also-good post by Matthew Taylor of the RSA. 

I don’t have anything to say that engages with it directly, only to add something that I mentioned in a post a while ago over on the Liberal Conspiracy site about civic energy. It probably breaks every rule about humility and blogging (is it wrong to quote yourself writing elsewhere?), but here are the relevant paras:

Paraphrasing Tim Garton-Ash a while ago, when politicians were able to win elections and start the process of government, they often exhibited what Machiavelli called virtù - the capacity for collective action and historical vitality. It is politics - the whole reviled shebang – strong yet fractious political parties, that are the engine of that vitality.

Referendums remove that capacity at a stroke. If you are looking for an explanation for illiberalism – for the promotion of a bureaucratic / policing agenda – look no further than a Parliament along with local and regional assemblies that have had the virtùsucked out of them by the constant imperative to consult with stakeholders, negotiate with veto-wielding vested interests, disruptive agenda-led newspapers, opinion-polls, well-heeled pressure groups, bureaucrats and managerialists.

The nature of democracy makes a huge difference to the options that policymakers can exercise.

Niccolò Machiavelli - a bit sceptical about all of this 'candour' business

Shorter version: If you’re a politician, it may be a good idea to get into blogging. But do it under a pen-name! It’s safer that way, and it will make you better at your job.

This is an old-ish question nowadays. And as the big question around social media at the moment is ‘should everyone Twitter‘, I think it may be a good time to revisit the question of blogging – now that the one-note evangelism for the medium has died down.

I’m not convinced that most politicians should set up an official blog of their own, or formally blog in their own name. Annoyingly, this is not a common view. Daniel Hannan, a UK Conservative Party MEP says it’s a good idea.

The inestimable Shane McCracken of Gallomanor also thinks they should – indeed, he goes further and asks if leaders should blog (three different times – here, here and here).

Though my own conclusions are slightly different, I’ve been helping a few councillors to have a crack at it recently, and I suspect that a few of them will emerge from it very well.

Former Lewisham Councillor, Andrew Brown picked up (a while ago now) on a Centre for Policy Studies paper on how the internet is changing politics, and how it skews some biases that may already be there in terms of activism and influence.

For some time now, the corporate world has been warning it’s clientbase that this is an activity that is here to stay – with guides from IBM and The Economist Intellegence Unit. Particularly pertinent is the advice offered by BT, suggesting that a lack of experience in Web 2.0 presents business with potential drawbacks, and the implication is that an experience with social media is valuable asset for any business.

Deloitte go even further in their advice: “Change your world or the world will change you.”

Canadian blogger Jim Elve has an interesting view on this in what is, admittedly, quite an old post:

“My own advice to politicians thinking about using a blog has been consistent. Get an official blogger. If the official blogger writes something as outlandish as this, the candidate or incumbent can fire the fool and distance himself from the article.”

Were Machiavelli alive today, I suspect he’d be sniffing around jobs as an online communications consultant. He’d probably find plenty of work without ever building up much of a profile for himself. Offering sound – but unfashionable – advice is like that. Machiavelli would have been particularly worried about exposing one’s thinking to public scrutiny when you are in a position of power.

In Machiavelli’s view, inconsistency was something of a virtue, and he wouldn’t have liked his clients to close off avenues by pre-applying ethical or systematic boundaries to their thinking.

Perhaps it is the case that one can never think the unthinkable in one’s own name? And do we want a cadre of politicians whose primary aim is to think aloud – but only to say things that external pressure groups will not object to? Isn’t this why the Chatham House Rule is so valuable to policymakers? Interestingly, Machiavelli didn’t publish his work during his lifetime (he dedicated it privately) – not because he didn’t want the message to be read, but because he didn’t want challenging ideas associated with himself.

I think that his advice would be similar to Jim’s. And, for different reasons, I’d concur with both of them.

Firstly, I think that there’s a bit of ‘teh interwebs is coming – look busy!’ about all of this. There is a proposition that “if you’re not doing what the bright young things are doing, you’re being left behind.” And I suspect that ‘blogging’ is often a substitute for ‘engaging with social media.’

As such, one has to admit that there is no better way of stepping into the world of social media than getting a blog set up, understanding how a creative use of widgets can make the management of a blog less time-consuming, and how activism on various other fronts can drive traffic to your site.

There is also the argument that it will be difficult to compete in any battle of ideas in future unless you understand the dynamics of social media and how it will change things – this is the gist of Podnosh’s argument here. The author Flannery O’Connor said, “I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.” Just writing a blog is a good way of forcing yourself to think – and to do it in a way that ensures your output is coherent (your comments thread will ensure that this is all well incentivised).

But this raises another question: Should politicians blog in their own name? I’d argue that the reason for using interactive media is so that you can eavesdrop upon high-quality conversations – ones that have been subject to a collaborative filtering. Ones that have had a reputation management job done on them. Anyone can do this – but as Anthony points out, sometimes – the moment that you declare your politician-ness – the conversation turns into a spitting match.

There are, of course, politicians who are just made for the world of blogging. We all know people who have the kind of personal manner that works very well when it’s transferred to the blogosphere, and some politicians are like that. But I’ve met quite a few very good politicians in my time that really don’t fit into that camp at all.

If we fall into the trap of equating a willingness to blog with a capacity to represent people effectively, we may eventually damage politics in a way that we never intended.

This is the sort of thing that may come up at Barcamp – stay tuned!