Should celebrities really shut up about politics? Nick Timothy makes a persuasive argument on ConservativeHome that Benedict Cumberbatch et al should stop lecturing theatregoers and pontificating about Edward Snowden because they lower the standard of political debate in this country. He writes:
‘So if I had a wish for 2016, it would be that these pompous, hypocritical, self-obsessed political celebrities would take a vow of silence. If that proves impossible, surely it is time for our politicians and the media to stop humouring these vain and ignorant liberal luvvies. Doing so would be good not just for my sanity but the standard of political debate in this country – which might at last reflect the full complexity of the problems we face, rather than whatever happens to come across the half-witted mind of a public school-educated actor.’
It’s a very funny piece and worth reading for the satisfaction of Timothy tearing a few chunks off people who think they have all the answers based on a couple of things they read on Twitter. And it’s easy to agree, and perhaps wish that those who are not celebrities but who also lecture their friends over social media or even face to face about things they know very little about would follow suit. Pontificating about politics with great certainty is tedious to those who work in politics full-time: everything is more complicated, budgets are not limitless and arms dealers really don’t have the power over foreign policy that most Facebook posts would have you believe. There is an arrogance in these celebrities’ assertions that suggest they believe they have worked out something that the politicians are just too dim to have noticed, and if only they were in charge, everything would be hunky dory (mind you, it’s not just celebrities who hold these rather whimsical views about the world).
But as annoying as they might be to those who, like Timothy, have actually worked in government and have had to deal not just with its relentless grind but also its complexity, celebrity pontificators shouldn’t shut up. The one thing worse than a bunch of rather pompous actors boring on about public policy as if they had a clue would be a political debate that had only one sort of voice in it: that of the well-informed insider. And how quiet the woods would be if only those lesser pinstriped grey-feathered government birds were allowed to sing. We want a noisy, rowdy political debate in which all are welcome, from the vain actor to the bookish minister and everyone in between. Cumberbatch is more interesting to more people than even Timothy’s old boss Theresa May, and if he helps make politics more interesting, then more power to his larynx.
Besides, we allow ill-informed people to vote, whether or not they tread the boards of the London stage. Voters who do not have a strong grasp of the extent of immigration, crime, or benefit fraud help elect parties. Voters who tell pollsters that they support legislation that doesn’t exist push their slip of paper into the ballot box. This summer I voted despite possessing an understanding of a number of issues that would make advisers like Timothy howl. That’s democracy, and the same goes for debate. Even stupid views have a role because they sharpen the well-researched argument.
Of course, those inside politics don’t have to agree with these celeb commentators, or give them any more prominence than they already have. The problem is when someone, by dint of their public brand and not their public policy expertise, becomes a ‘tsar’ or some kind of government adviser or makes multiple select committee appearances as a result of politicians’ silly kow-towing to celebrities. Their advice is often exposed as being based purely on their own life experiences or anecdotes, not data, even though they are rather more exciting to have in a government department than the chap who has been hunched over the spreadsheets for a decade. The best response to pontificating pop stars is to allow them to hang themselves with their silly opinions, or perhaps occasionally have a point as a stopped clock manages to do twice a day, rather than tell them to shove off or indeed venerate them.
The best sort of vow that the celebrities (and sometimes even politicians, and certainly ill-informed journalists like me) could take for 2016 would be a vow of humility. Cumberbatch must know that dying is easy and comedy is hard – but perhaps his interventions would be better if he recognised that the hardest of all is governing.
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