Yahoo News An MP may not be addressing conference as a hologram but, to us, politicians remain optical illusions
Much mirth in these quarters at news that Culture Secretary Jeremy Wright will not, after all, be addressing the Conservative Party Conference in holographic form. It wasn’t his idea originally — the plan was cooked up by his go-ahead predecessor Matt Hancock before he was beamed elsewhere — but Mr Wright was said to have been worried that it had the possibility of becoming “an embarrassing fiasco” and decided to show up in person. Got to give him credit, though: he has a better nose for embarrassing fiascos coming down the pike than is commonly found among his senior colleagues.
He had a point. It would have been cool if it had worked, obviously, but most party-conference tech teams are still struggling to master Blu Tack. We may have to leave three-dimensional laser technology to the future, where it belongs.
And, as I remarked in this spot not long ago, you do have to be uncommonly careful when it comes to anything that might take off as a metaphor. That applies to both main parties, in which there’s a sense that we have too many holographic politicians rather than too few. The perception of many voters seems to be of our most senior representatives as expensive optical illusions, simulacra of people, glitching and repeating — creatures that look flashy but that, well, lack substance. They are a trick of the light.
The general rage, the dangerous public disillusionment with politics and politicians — I say dangerous because elected politicians are, to adapt Churchill, the worst form of government except all the other ones that have been tried — is linked to this. Things that should rock them back on their heels pass right through them; interviewers attempt to grasp a point and come away clutching empty air; nothing seems to touch them. You can’t throw a tomato at a hologram. You can’t expect a hologram to share in your joys and sorrows. A hologram can’t give a conference delegate a convincing handshake.
It is politicians who ostentatiously live in human bodies who are, for this reason, making the weather at the moment. These figures are seen to be and said to be “human”. They give to airy nothing a local habitation and a name. And —given some of these embodied politicians — that’s by no means a good thing. This conference season the good ones who are of a more, shall we say, holographic persuasion should strive to beam down into human form rather than otherwise.
"The perception of many voters seems to be of our most senior representatives as a trick of the light"
And remember the resonance of holograms. The ur-hologram for most voters is Princess Leia in Star Wars, captured by the enemy and making a last-ditch bid for rescue. A twitchy blue projection of Theresa May bleating “Help me, Michel Barnier. You’re my only hope!” from the top of a beeping bin lid? Mr Corbyn in the flowing brown robes of Obi-Wan Kenobi smirking at his exasperated critics: “If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine”? Science fiction, in this case, is a bit too close to the knuckle.
New departures in a grim world of apps
The phrase “there’s an app for that” has become so ubiquitous as to have entered the realm of cliché. Nevertheless, sometimes it can still surprise you. Remember the old story — possibly apocryphal — that during Ancient Roman triumphs, a slave was retained to sneak about behind the victorious generals harshing their buzz by telling them: “Remember, you’re only human and you’re going to die”? Well, there’s now an app for that too.
I may be late to the party, but I’ve just downloaded an enchanting app called WeCroak, which sends you five messages a day at random times telling you that you’re going to die, and supplying you with an appropriately sobering quotation along those lines. It welcomed me with Shakespeare: “Golden lads and girls all must / As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.” No argument there (though I note with fleeting satisfaction that the decline in the relative number of working chimney-sweepers suggests that they’re kicking the bucket at a faster rate than golden lads and girls).
Quite the thing to have on your phone. It’s like being in a WhatsApp group with Philip Larkin. And only 99p to download! I like the idea that someone might get rich off this, nevertheless, if it really catches on. Timor mortis conturbat me.
*And so it was with sadness that we bid a temporary farewell to Kirsty Young, who presented her final episode of Desert Island Discs this weekend. Illness is forcing her to take a break. As broadcast interviewers go I don’t think there’s a better one (though in the political realm she has a peer in Andrew Neil). For my money she wiped the floor with Sue Lawley — and Sue was no slouch. However, if someone has to replace her, who better than Lauren Laverne? She projects the same qualities of warmth and intelligence in her 6 Music show, and my hunch is that let loose on the castaways she’ll ace it.
