Unfortunately, I was not allowed to attend Reform Conference.
I probably could’ve pleaded with our gracious overlords at Total Politics, urging them that it was imperative for me to go to Birmingham to uncover some stories. They were likely worried that, instead of spending my time hobbling around the conference hall, speaking to potential sources, I would be bunkered down in the on-site bar, pint in hand. Evidently, they don’t understand real journalism, but alas.
The Conference, from what I have been told by friends who have made the trek out to the midlands and from videos online, seems fairly mundane. There isn’t much to write home about, though one attendee was said to have booked out a roundtable room for a talk, only to discover that the room had neither tables nor chairs. A perfect metaphor for it all, one thinks.
Nobody I had spoken to had yet seen Farage, but judging by the Channel 4 investigation which was released last night, I imagine that he won’t be too chipper about things.
I’m not going to go into a detailed explanation of the investigation. I doubt I could do it justice. I highly recommend readers, if they haven’t already, to go and watch it for themselves. It really is a damning indictment of Farage’s entire operation.
Because what the investigation revealed, perhaps more than anything else, was Reform’s constant struggle with professionalism.
Reform’s greatest strength has always been its ability to behave unlike a normal political party. Farage et al could shoot from the hip, and candidates could say all manner of things without facing repercussions. As one leaked training memo from the party laid bare, “the biggest threat to Reform is people in it and itself.” The party always had a sort of mischievous streak about it. But, you know, its kind of important to tone this down if you want to run the country and stuff.
Figures like that of Zia Yusuf were originally brought in to help accomplish that goal. To turn the party from a rabble of right-wingers to something that could form the next government. They had, for some time, been moving in that sort of direction. Even today, the party looks as though it is still seeking to embark on that rebrand, with Andrew Barclay – son of Adrian Barclay and grandson of David Barclay – tipped to be brought into the fold as deputy treasurer for the party at some point in the near future.
The party can attempt to portray itself however it wants, hiring all manner of new staffers and the like, but what this investigation reveals is that the foundations are fundamentally broken. It doesn’t matter how many polished speeches you give, nor how well you can spin a particular story. If the groundwork is shoddy, someone will – at some point – notice.
And this, perhaps more than anything else, is Reform’s greatest weakness. They are putting on a show. The tailor-made suits, the glossy corporate dinners with expensive price tags, the slick social media videos – it’s all a very effective guise. But, just occasionally, the curtain slips. The audience gets a glimpse behind the scenes and sees the party layering on a fresh coat of paint to something they know is broken. This is one of those moments.
And this is perhaps what distinguishes a party which is built to campaign, and a party which is built to govern.
Because to govern is to be willing to do the boring bits. To sit in the office until the early hours of the morning, reading over policy briefs and reports, strategising about where next to move the party. It requires a certain level of discipline where the leader is not in front of a TV camera. Farage doesn’t offer this. He offers showmanship and flourish. You can chuck him in front of a crowd without an autocue and he will perform exceptionally well. The masses lap it up, clapping their hands together as if Reform’s leader had just discovered a cure for cancer, but such a profile means that he lacks the seriousness that is needed for any would be Prime Minister.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with wanting to be a performer. Many dream of being able to possess the charisma necessary to energise a political rally and Farage is, to his credit, really rather good at that. To pretend otherwise would be foolish.
But one must separate the performer from the statesman – the court jester from the King sat on the throne. It’s wrong for him to chase after the keys to Number 10 without showing a willingness or indeed appetite to govern. One MP texted me that what this whole ordeal shows is that “Reform have a dodgy underbelly,” but I disagree with such a diagnosis. The problem is not their underbelly, it is their entire operation.
I can understand why millions of people vote Reform, and I can understand their well founded frustrations too. Both the Tories and Labour failed on their commitments, and Reform has stepped in as the vehicle through which disillusioned Brits can express their discontent. I am not questioning the grievances of such people, no, but whether Reform are best placed to address them. The answer, as the clock keeps ticking forward, increasingly appears to be no.
For months, everything suggested that Farage might lead the country. Reform were topping polls, picking up council seats, winning by-elections and increasingly being treated as a government-in-waiting with Farage at the helm. What he and others around him have failed to realise, however, is that with such successes comes immeasurable amounts of scrutiny. The spotlight is constantly on him, quick to point out any misstep.
This is, contrary to what Farage would have us believe, not an ‘establishment stitch-up’. There is no ‘establishment stitch-up’ when journalists are examining a party that wants to form the next government. There is no conspiracy in asking whether the people surrounding its leader are competent enough to govern. That’s just journalism, Nigel. That’s what happens when you ask for the keys to Number 10.
Farage has spent years telling us that Britain is broken, pointing the finger at a whole host of problems. He may well be right in some of what he diagnoses, but if he wants to be the man who fixes it, he is going to have to prove that he can run something first.