Sketch: Hague's war drums
Hague was the drums of war in him
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Thursday, 08, Oct 2009 12:00
The shadow foreign secretary seems to enjoy himself just a little too much, striking a tough guy pose and promising Britain can go it alone.
By Ian Dunt
Exactly when did it happen? When did the sniggering wimp we saw sporting a baseball cap at the Notting Hill carnival turn into the elder statesman on show at the Tory party conference today?
Hague strode out this morning with the confidence of a man well-loved by those around him. They started giving him a standing ovation before he even began speaking, but he ushered them down like a Hollywood celebrity at a charity event. It's a wonder what the PR boys can do.
Get yourself some misguided fools for your public relations and they'll replay videos of you speaking like a limitless virgin at a Tory party conference, deep in the recesses of your utterly misguided youth. They'll throw a cap on your head and shove you out with the street revellers, so you can look appalling in comparison, like surrounding a plain girl with supermodels.
Get yourself some professionals and they'll start by insisting you shave your head. Remember: no one chooses to be bald, but you can choose to shave your head. Real men make choices. They got him a proper suit. No more T-shirts for a future foreign secretary. Dark suits, with blue ties. That's gravitas. They focused on his strengths. Those crushing parliamentary performances that left Tony Blair gasping for breath, which no one in the country watched, have transmuted into a firm foreign policy, with tough rhetoric and smooth delivery.
The party has fallen in love with him. He tickles something in them, something naughty and sexual. He earns money! He's barely able to conceal how right-wing he is! He's a real man! The full range of those potent talents was on display today. Europe was addressed in a marvellously deceptive way, with Lisbon defined as anti-progressive. He didn't use that world in particular, thank Christ. The Conservatives have been rollicking around in the word 'progressive' for some times nbow, and it's becoming increasingly difficult to maintain one's stomach when they do so. Lisbon takes people further away from democratic control, he told delegates.
But he was cautious on America too. We would seek other allies and work with them, not just America and Europe. All in the name of the British national interest, a word Hague explicitly disassociated from empire and attached to promoting freedom – not in mad-dog neo-conservative way, but a fluffy, aren't-we-lovely-here-in-Blighty way.
The hall lapped it up. I enjoyed it too – it's all very much up my alley. But there's something uniquely dangerous about the way Hague speaks, and how much he enjoys doing it. Iran got tough language: "Unless Iran changes course, the time is approaching for serious and far-reaching sanctions". Russia got tough language, even if it was couched in conciliatory terms: "The door should be open to improved relations…if an appropriate response is forthcoming". He savoured these passages. In fact, it's interesting that they sound far more relaxed on paper than they did when he delivered them.
It's terribly, terribly easy to see this man going to war. You can imagine the testosterone pumping through him, as it did Blair, as he prepares to make firm speeches on tough and necessary choices which are rarely as tough and necessary as British governments through the ages have made out.
British foreign policy. A funny little term. I'm rather fond of the idea, myself. We haven't had any such thing for a long, long time now. We have just complained, in a bewildered, slightly pathetic way, about Europe. And we have grumbled, in a far more pathetic way, about America. It would be lovely to have a British foreign policy – please, Mr Hague. If he enjoys being foreign secretary as much as he enjoys being shadow foreign secretary, he might even go ahead and do it. But if he enjoys it any more, he could turn into a very dangerous man indeed.