Something light about elections today. Here is an extract from one of my favourite political writers, G.K. Chesterton on canvassing in England, which makes some solid points, but also, I hope, will bring the reader the odd chuckle!
Reviewing the hustings on YouTube, there is a marvellous moment when Nick Le Cornu is speaking, and Sam Mezec rolls his eyes! It's always fun to watch what other candidates reaction is when one of them is speaking. Stevie Ocean appears to be munching something, and I'm sure one of them (watch it yourself) looks as if they are picking their nose. Hugh Raymond, sitting at the back, gets a twitch in his leg.
On performance, "old school" politicians stand up to speak. But Alvin Aaron sits and hides his mouth behind the paper he is reading from. I was amazed at how accurately Guy de Faye seems to be channelling the late David Frost in his hustings speech. I was almost expecting "Hello, good evening and welcome." He keeps one hand in his pocket, while the other points dramatically like the Ghost of Christmas Future. He presented himself as "your Mr Fix It" for all the Island's problems. And presumably will soon be the UN's troubleshooter to sort out the world!
"I'm well educated with a masters degree" says Mary O'Keefe-Burger. It is in European Cultural Studies, and not mathematics, which perhaps explains why she doesn't know the difference between mean and median. But it might be useful for Brexit negotiations, which Mike Dun is keen to focus on. Sarah Ferguson prods the desk with a pen to make points, while John Young's papers seem to want to escape his hands.
Reviewing the hustings on YouTube, there is a marvellous moment when Nick Le Cornu is speaking, and Sam Mezec rolls his eyes! It's always fun to watch what other candidates reaction is when one of them is speaking. Stevie Ocean appears to be munching something, and I'm sure one of them (watch it yourself) looks as if they are picking their nose. Hugh Raymond, sitting at the back, gets a twitch in his leg.
On performance, "old school" politicians stand up to speak. But Alvin Aaron sits and hides his mouth behind the paper he is reading from. I was amazed at how accurately Guy de Faye seems to be channelling the late David Frost in his hustings speech. I was almost expecting "Hello, good evening and welcome." He keeps one hand in his pocket, while the other points dramatically like the Ghost of Christmas Future. He presented himself as "your Mr Fix It" for all the Island's problems. And presumably will soon be the UN's troubleshooter to sort out the world!
"I'm well educated with a masters degree" says Mary O'Keefe-Burger. It is in European Cultural Studies, and not mathematics, which perhaps explains why she doesn't know the difference between mean and median. But it might be useful for Brexit negotiations, which Mike Dun is keen to focus on. Sarah Ferguson prods the desk with a pen to make points, while John Young's papers seem to want to escape his hands.
Christian May's hands appear to have a life of their own, always in motion when he spoke, because he wasn't reading from a paper held in one hand. But they did make me think of one thing: wouldn't it be wonderful if one of the candidates could present their manifesto in sign language?
Canvassing at Election Time
By G.K. Chesterton
Most of us will be canvassed soon, I suppose; some of us may even canvass. Upon which side, of course, nothing will induce me to state, beyond saying that by a remarkable coincidence it will in every case be the only side in which a high-minded, public-spirited, and patriotic citizen can take even a momentary interest.
But the general question of canvassing itself, being a non-party question, is one which we may be permitted to approach. The rules for canvassers are fairly familiar to any one who has ever canvassed. They are printed on the little card which you carry about with you and lose.
There is a statement, I think, that you must not offer a voter food or drink. However hospitable you may feel towards him in his own house, you must not carry his lunch about with you. You must not produce a veal cutlet from your tail-coat pocket. You must not conceal poached eggs about your person. You must not, like a kind of conjurer, produce baked potatoes from your hat. In short, the canvasser must not feed the voter in any way.
Whether the voter is allowed to feed the canvasser, whether the voter may give the canvasser veal cutlets and baked potatoes, is a point of law on which I have never been able to inform myself. When I found myself canvassing a gentleman, I have sometimes felt tempted to ask him if there was any rule against his giving me food and drink; but the matter seemed a delicate one to approach. His attitude to me also sometimes suggested a doubt as to whether he would, even if he could. But there are voters who might find it worth while to discover if there is any law against bribing a canvasser. They might bribe him to go away.
The second veto for canvassers which was printed on the little card said that you must not persuade any one to personate a voter. I have no idea what it means. To dress up as an average voter seems a little vague. There is no well-recognised uniform, as far as I know, with civic waistcoat and patriotic whiskers. The enterprise resolves itself into one somewhat similar to the enterprise of a rich friend of mine who went to a fancy-dress ball dressed up as a gentleman.
Perhaps it means that there is a practice of personating some individual voter. The canvasser creeps to the house of his fellow-conspirator carrying a make-up in a bag. He produces from it a pair of white moustaches and a single eyeglass, which are sufficient to give the most common-place person a startling resemblance to the Colonel at No. 80. Or he hurriedly affixes to his friend that large nose and that bald head which are all that is essential to an illusion of the presence of Professor Budger.
I do not undertake to unravel these knots. I can only say that when I was a canvasser I was told by the little card, with every circumstance of seriousness and authority, that I was not to persuade anybody to personate a voter: and I can lay my hand upon my heart and affirm that I never did.
The third injunction on the card was one which seemed to me, if interpreted exactly and according to its words, to undermine the very foundations of our politics. It told me that I must not "threaten a voter with any consequence whatever."
Canvassing at Election Time
By G.K. Chesterton
Most of us will be canvassed soon, I suppose; some of us may even canvass. Upon which side, of course, nothing will induce me to state, beyond saying that by a remarkable coincidence it will in every case be the only side in which a high-minded, public-spirited, and patriotic citizen can take even a momentary interest.
But the general question of canvassing itself, being a non-party question, is one which we may be permitted to approach. The rules for canvassers are fairly familiar to any one who has ever canvassed. They are printed on the little card which you carry about with you and lose.
There is a statement, I think, that you must not offer a voter food or drink. However hospitable you may feel towards him in his own house, you must not carry his lunch about with you. You must not produce a veal cutlet from your tail-coat pocket. You must not conceal poached eggs about your person. You must not, like a kind of conjurer, produce baked potatoes from your hat. In short, the canvasser must not feed the voter in any way.
Whether the voter is allowed to feed the canvasser, whether the voter may give the canvasser veal cutlets and baked potatoes, is a point of law on which I have never been able to inform myself. When I found myself canvassing a gentleman, I have sometimes felt tempted to ask him if there was any rule against his giving me food and drink; but the matter seemed a delicate one to approach. His attitude to me also sometimes suggested a doubt as to whether he would, even if he could. But there are voters who might find it worth while to discover if there is any law against bribing a canvasser. They might bribe him to go away.
The second veto for canvassers which was printed on the little card said that you must not persuade any one to personate a voter. I have no idea what it means. To dress up as an average voter seems a little vague. There is no well-recognised uniform, as far as I know, with civic waistcoat and patriotic whiskers. The enterprise resolves itself into one somewhat similar to the enterprise of a rich friend of mine who went to a fancy-dress ball dressed up as a gentleman.
Perhaps it means that there is a practice of personating some individual voter. The canvasser creeps to the house of his fellow-conspirator carrying a make-up in a bag. He produces from it a pair of white moustaches and a single eyeglass, which are sufficient to give the most common-place person a startling resemblance to the Colonel at No. 80. Or he hurriedly affixes to his friend that large nose and that bald head which are all that is essential to an illusion of the presence of Professor Budger.
I do not undertake to unravel these knots. I can only say that when I was a canvasser I was told by the little card, with every circumstance of seriousness and authority, that I was not to persuade anybody to personate a voter: and I can lay my hand upon my heart and affirm that I never did.
The third injunction on the card was one which seemed to me, if interpreted exactly and according to its words, to undermine the very foundations of our politics. It told me that I must not "threaten a voter with any consequence whatever."
No doubt this was intended to apply to threats of a personal and illegitimate character; as, for instance, if a wealthy candidate were to threaten to raise all the rents, or to put up a statue of himself.
But as verbally and grammatically expressed, it certainly would cover those general threats of disaster to the whole community which are the main matter of political discussion. When a canvasser says that if the opposition candidate gets in the country will be ruined, he is threatening the voters with certain consequences. When the Free Trader says that if Tariffs are adopted the people in Brompton or Bayswater will crawl about eating grass, he is threatening them with consequences. When the Tariff Reformer says that if Free Trade exists for another year St. Paul's Cathedral will be a ruin and Ludgate Hill as deserted as Stonehenge, he is also threatening. And what is the good of being a Tariff Reformer if you can't say that?
What is the use of being a politician or a Parliamentary candidate at all if one cannot tell the people that if the other man gets in, England will be instantly invaded and enslaved, blood be pouring down the Strand, and all the English ladies carried off into harems. But these things are, after all, consequences, so to speak.
But as verbally and grammatically expressed, it certainly would cover those general threats of disaster to the whole community which are the main matter of political discussion. When a canvasser says that if the opposition candidate gets in the country will be ruined, he is threatening the voters with certain consequences. When the Free Trader says that if Tariffs are adopted the people in Brompton or Bayswater will crawl about eating grass, he is threatening them with consequences. When the Tariff Reformer says that if Free Trade exists for another year St. Paul's Cathedral will be a ruin and Ludgate Hill as deserted as Stonehenge, he is also threatening. And what is the good of being a Tariff Reformer if you can't say that?
What is the use of being a politician or a Parliamentary candidate at all if one cannot tell the people that if the other man gets in, England will be instantly invaded and enslaved, blood be pouring down the Strand, and all the English ladies carried off into harems. But these things are, after all, consequences, so to speak.
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