Matthew Parris on the fire in the Opposition's belly.

Matthew Parris writes today in The Times of his "unmistakable feeling that British politics has just changed."

His article, "Synthetic rage has gone. This is real fury." continues as follows:

"Look at the high clouds. Something is changing in the upper atmosphere of British politics. Westminster senses it. The Tories sniff the wind and paw the ground. Liberal Democrats shift uneasily, excited yet a little bit scared.

And Labour shivers. Government's troubles multiply. But one could write that of this week, many that have passed, and scores yet to come.

Labour's troubles are not what is new. Its Government has been in deep trouble before. I have lost count of the weeks we called “Tony Blair's worst week yet” and we were not wrong. Mr Blair would laugh that every week was his worst yet ? until the next one ? yet the Earth continued in its orbit; and he was not wrong either. If the intended jigsaw being assembled was an epic classical tragedy, The Fall of Labour, there was always a missing piece.

A gaping hole, in fact, and we all sensed it, opponents and supporters of the Government alike. Mr Blair sensed it, hence the cocky grin that no upset could shift. That 2005 Conservative poster featuring a grinning Blair, “Wipe the smile off his face on May 5”, betrayed a secret pessimism among his challengers.


The truth was, and until now has remained, that no fire was lit in the Opposition's belly. Where there needed to be anger, there was irritation. Where there needed to be outrage, there was peevishness. Where there needed to be impatience for office, there was doubt about those Tories who might assume it. And where there needed to be a full-hearted certainty that Britain was being led in directions that were dangerous and wrong, there was instead a kind of grumpiness.

Grumpiness is not enough. Only fury spurs revolt. Dissatisfactions were, of course, legion. Tories were jealous of Mr Blair's charm, his ability to tune in to popular feeling; but for all their niggles they knew he had come to trespass on their legacy rather than destroy it. Maddened by spin, they half wished he were on their side of the House.

Liberal Democrats, cross that some of their ideals had leaked into new Labour's manifesto, complained about implementation; but for all their complaint they missed the familiar enemy: trade-union-style Labour. Devolution? Gay equality? Human rights? Overseas aid? The personality of new Labour in office presented few obvious targets.

And, as the years passed, and most could see that standards of public administration were slipping, that trust in the honesty of ministers was ebbing, and that there was a worrying sense of drift, still British politics lacked what alone transfigures opposition: rage.

This autumn, that changed. As David Cameron challenged Gordon Brown over the Queen's Speech this week, and as David Davis and Nick Clegg rounded on a wittering Home Secretary, Jacqui Smith, the hairs on the back of my neck told me that the change is permanent and deep. Opposition has found fire. Something is lit. This is good. I do not disagree lightly with my colleague Peter Riddell, but I think his dismay (“Slow down and offer some governing alternatives” ? November 7) at what he called “electioneering overdrive” is misplaced.

The opposition leader's “look me in the eye” confrontation with the Prime Minister on Tuesday made for magnificent theatre, of course, and Peter rightly distrusts theatre. But this was more than theatre.

William Hague used to shout too. Iain Duncan Smith tried to. Michael Howard railed instinctively. Paddy Ashdown affected high indignation.

Little rang true. These men led their parties during an era when there was no wind of real anger to fill their sails. Synthetic anger is ? Peter is right ? simply tiresome.

But this week was not synthetic, and the anger that broke through can be creative for oppositions. All at once there is a real up-and-at-'em spirit on the Tory benches, and (as front-runner for the Liberal Democrat leadership) Nick Clegg too seems to have learnt to snarl.

Only Boris Johnson, in London, still needs to catch the mood. To succeed against the wily Ken Livingstone in next May's contest he must bare his teeth. As the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police teeters close to the edge, Mr Johnson's apparent disappearance is weird.

Otherwise the mood is spreading. Why? I would cite three reasons. The first is the credibility of individuals. As older figures step back, opposition personalities are emerging who look and feel like part of the future. This year in particular has been an intensive initiation. Mr Cameron looked commanding on Tuesday. There no longer seems any instinctive reason to doubt that George Osborne could replace Alistair Darling as Chancellor, or William Hague David Miliband at the Foreign Office. In Education I can imagine Michael Gove at Ed Balls's desk. And Des Browne does not strike me as obviously more believable than Liam Fox at Defence. In a hung parliament, meanwhile, it is easy to picture Nick Clegg driving home Lib Dem demands.

As important as whether we can picture these politicians in office is that they can picture themselves there. Otherwise there will be (and has been) an element of bluff in opposition attacks. But self-belief on the opposition front benches of 2007 is growing.

This leads me to the other two reasons for fire in opposition bellies. The first is the character of the Prime Minister they face. His opponents suspect they have found him out. To be at the same time bullying in manner and weak in action is a standing provocation to attack. Once one dog goes in, draws blood and lives to tell the tale, other dogs circle. The spectacle this week of the Prime Minister, badly bitten by Mr Cameron, ferreting around for documents purporting to show he thought of an idea first, was pitiful.

The final reason for fire should never be overlooked in politics: sincerity. The Government is lurching in directions that opposition politicians genuinely hate. Mr Osborne's contempt for Mr Darling's emergency Budget is palpable. Mr Davis's loathing for the identity card project and his (and Mr Clegg's) determination to block a 56-day detention-without-charge period is taking world-weary parliamentary sketchwriters by surprise. And if Mr Cameron is only pretending to despise Mr Brown, he is making a convincing job of it. Authenticity shows. Wounded by these attacks, Mr Brown's burning rage is equally real.

The House, and with it our politics, is catching fire. It's easy to conclude that big questions of principle hardly now divide mainstream parties in Britain. Differences on many issues have indeed narrowed. But there is one ? liberty ? with which the Labour Party has always had difficulty, and still does. It may be at the heart of coming battles.

I hope so. Hope, wrote Richard Sheridan in The Rivals, paints many a gaudy scene, but “let us deny its pencil colours too bright to be lasting”. I suspect that Peter Riddell thinks this week's political crayons have been of that kind. But I think this picture, though gaudy, will endure.

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