On the party leaders' new year messages

Over the last week, the three main party leaders have given their new year messages.  Usually, I pay these comments little attention.   This time, however, I think they offered some strong clues about the stories the leaders will try to tell in the general election campaign, and, just as interestingly, how they might be tripped up.

 

The main opposition party’s theme will always be that “it’s time for a change” and, in telling a story, the obvious archetype is about “the rot at the top” that must be stopped.   In a clever message, David Cameron didn’t stick to the obvious.  He spoke about  our “broken politics”, but used an unexpected frame: “a new kind of politics”:

 

". . .  let's make sure the election is a proper argument about the future of the country, not some exercise in fake dividing lines.  Let's at least recognise the good intentions of our opponents. Let's be honest that whether you're Labour, Conservative or Liberal Democrat, you're motivated by pretty much the same progressive aims: a country that is safer, fairer, greener and where opportunity is more equal.  It's how to achieve these aims that we disagree about - and indeed between the Conservatives and the Liberal Democrats there is a lot less disagreement than there used to be  . . .

 

“ . . .  let's make 2010 the year for a new politics.  Let's be positive about our own policies as well as pointing out the consequences of our opponents' policies.  But above all, let's be honest about the problems facing the country and how we can solve them.  Yes, there will be an election this year: that much is certain.  And we can be certain too that the arguments will be fierce.  But let's make it a good clean fight.  And once the battle is over, we will need to rise above our differences and come together because that is the only way - strong, united leadership is the only way - we will sort out Britain's problems, halt our decline, and give this country the success that I know we can achieve."

 

[Thanks to Iain Dale for the text]

 

Some media commentators saw this as an attempt to “love bomb” Liberal Democrat voters. Cameron's motive was obvious: to win more seats from the Lib Dem and, perhaps as importantly, to squeeze the third party vote in Labour-Tory marginals.   What I found more interesting was the rhetoric that Cameron used.  The appeaIs to the national interest, shared values and a united Britain, above and beyond political argument and division, have long been one of the Liberal Democrat’s strongest appeals to voters. The Liberals and Liberal Democrats have often used “Punch and Judy” glove puppets to represent squabbling Labour and Conservative politicians. 

 

I believe the “unity” frame and rhetoric were also set up to give Cameron safe passage through the campaign and beyond.  He expects to be prime minister after the general election and to face a difficult time in government.  So he needs to establish himself in advance as a force for unity, who can bring the nation together.  But can Cameron and his party live up to the expectations that are being set and embody the narrative? 

 

If the main opposition party’s usual message is that it’s time for a change, the incumbent’s is “no, it isn’t, not yet”.  Longer serving, battle-weary governments asking voters for another chance are more likely to use a frame based on risk: “you may not like us very much but the other lot would be much worse”.   The Conservatives’ campaigns in 1992 and 1997 are good examples.  One worked and the other did not. 

 

In the most quoted part of Gordon Brown’s New Year message, he tried to tell a story about the dangers that the Conservatives present.

 

"There are some who say we must plan for a decade of austerity. If that happened it would also be a decade of unfairness where, while the privileged few can protect themselves, the majority lose out.

 

"I believe we can create a new decade of prosperity with opportunities fairly shared amongst all those who work hard and play by the rules. That is why we are fighting so hard to secure and sustain Britain’s recovery."

 

Brown is using a familiar playbook here. Incumbent left of centre parties are more likely to make urgent, if not desperate appeals based on their core values.  Jimmy Carter’s campaign for re-election in 1980 was a good example.  So were the NZ Labour Party’s campaigns of 1990 and 2008 and the Australian Labor Party’s effort in 1996. On all four occasions the gambit failed.  And Brown has a particular problem with this message: voters do not necessarily see Labour as the most “compassionate” or “socially egalitarian” party. At conference time, Populus found that the Conservatives were seen, albeit narrowly, as the party that have the best interests of ordinary people at heart if they had to cut public spending. Labour had a clear advantage when it came to “ensuring that the most vulnerable in society don't suffer” from any cuts.  But in November 2009, ICM polling showed that David Cameron’s Conservatives enjoyed a 1% lead as the party best placed to bring people out of poverty.

 

Longer-serving governments mired in recession are also inclined to promise “go for growth” strategies.  That’s to be expected.  They need to get a clear advantage as the best party for economic management.  They also have to project a sense of optimism and show voters that they have not run out of steam.  Sure enough, Brown promised to publish the first part of a "prosperity plan for a successful, fairer and more responsible Britain", including investment in high-speed rail, aerospace, the digital economy, clean energy and other "industries and jobs of the future".  But this message also runs straight into a brick wall: most voters now clearly prefer the Cameron-Osborne team over Brown-Darling to deal with Britain’s economic problems.

 

As the third party leader, Nick Clegg might have been expected to invite voters to cast a protest vote against both Labour and the Conservatives (“a plague on both their houses”).   Sure enough, he started with a story about “looking round the House of Commons during another Punch and Judy session of Prime Ministers Questions” while big problems mounted out  “in the real world”.

 

Nick invoked the archetype of the “rot at the top” – both the major parties.

 

"I don’t blame anyone for feeling a sense of despair about our clapped out political system. You are being taken for granted by the people in charge. Big money is hollowing out politics with some rich donors not even bothering to say whether they pay full British taxes or not. And to top it all the expenses scandals exposed some MPs as spivvy property speculators and tax evaders rather than public servants."

 

And then:

 

'This whole set-up has to change. That’s what 2010 should be all about. Big, permanent change for the better . . . 2010 must be the year we press the political reset button.  But that will only happen if we do things differently. More of the same won’t produce anything new. Of course both Labour and the Conservatives have learned to parrot the language of change. But where’s the proof they mean it?

 

'. . . If you like what the Liberal Democrats stand for, vote for it. If you want real change, not phoney change, vote for it. If you think things should be different, vote for it.”

 

Nick’s first challenge is to tell stories about “doing things differently”, offering specific outcomes that strike a chord with what voters think and feel, so that they see the Liberal Democrats as the party best placed to “clean up politics”.   They don’t at the moment.

 

Carrying on the “plague” / “rot” theme, Nick’s message used another interesting frame: the politics of belief.

 

". . . If we as Leaders want people to turn out to vote at all at the next General Election, we have got to show people our convictions, not just dividing lines, our beliefs, not just soundbites.

 

". . .  So as the countdown to the next General Election finally begins, I have a simple question for the other party leaders: what do you believe, really believe?"

 

Nick described his own over-riding belief as “fairness”.  That may well click with the Lib Dems’ brand image.  But it doesn’t work as a frame, let alone as a story. After all, what does “fairness” really mean?  How do target voters relate to such an abstract concept?  Nick referred to some specific policies, on schools and on taxes.  That’s a list, not a story.  If the politics of belief is going to be a success, then the Lib Dem campaign needs to tell some stories that link the policies up and explain what the party means by “fairness”, so that voters can see the benefits for them, their families and their communities.

Lessons from Gordon Brown's narrative failure

Liberal Democrats regularly beat ourselves up for “not having a narrative”. As I have argued many times, we always have a narrative but it’s not necessarily the one we might want. Yet our problems on this front are as nothing compared to Gordon Brown’s.

In today’s Guardian, Tom Clark describes the philosophical and marketing swamp in which the PM is now mired. He lists the worst of Brown’s abortive attempts to define what his premiership is meant to be all about, from the moralising of two years ago to last autumn’s promises to get tough with the bankers.

In each case, there was a cycle of failure that repeated itself. Brown issued bold statements of intent that were, in many ways, in line with the public mood. But they did not amount to a vision for government. Nor did Brown tell a clear story about what had happened and what was coming next. Most importantly, nothing came of them. Politicians in office are judged over the long term by their actions and achievement as by well as their words; all this forms part of their brand narrative. They have to make things happen and when action is promised but not forthcoming, the public has nothing tangible to latch on to; disillusionment soon follows.

Hang on - Brown has held high office for more than twelve years. He was chancellor for more than ten years – with an unprecedented amount of power over domestic policy - and has been prime minister for two. We should be able to see and believe what he stands for, where he wants to take the country; even if the PM has to help us. Just as we understood “Thatcherism”, we should able to see “Brownism” is about. But like Margaret Thatcher, Gordon Brown needs to tell stories to make it real.

The “ism” may be there after all. Tom Clark suggests that from all the micro-measures and ad hoc experiments, especially when Brown was at Treasury, we can identify his core values and principles:

“ . . . attempt to run a market economy with ruthless efficiency; then funnel as much of the proceeds as feasible to the very poor . . . with [a] strategic conviction that the state is vital in both parts . . . "

That’s a good summary but Brown has plainly not been successful in these aims -- though, it must be said, the global financial crisis has not helped.

When it comes to communication though, there’s less much room for debate. Tom Clark identifies the harsh reality:

“Brownism . . . will never be intelligibly defined by the man himself.”

I agree with Tom Clark. But read those words again, slowly. They go to the heart of why Brown has failed as a leader.

Political leaders have to tell compelling stories if they are to succeed. Leaders base these stories on a clear understanding of the people they are speaking to – their hopes, their emotions, their fears. Nobody else can do it for them. The leaders who do not tell such stories crash and burn. Think Margaret Thatcher, Tony Blair – and Paddy Ashdown. Or Michael Foot, Iain Duncan Smith – and Ming Campbell. Brown seems destined to join the second group. (True, this is a big ask for a leader who has been a long time in government. Yet Australia’s former PM Paul Keating managed it well enough to win the 1993 federal election.) Tom Clark wants Gordon Brown to change his ways but I think it is too late now.

But there’s more. In order to tell powerful stories, successful leaders also know their own minds, understand their own values and are clear about what they themselves believe in and their goals for the future. Michael Deaver once said that one of the biggest lessons he learned from working with Ronald Reagan was:

“You've got to know who you are before you can communicate it.”

Love them or hate them, Winston Churchill and Margaret Thatcher are two very good examples of leaders who knew who they were.

Maybe that’s the real problem with Brown’s premiership: he has still not really decided what Brownism is. And, perhaps, David Cameron and Nick Clegg have the same challenge.

Political storyteller of the year 2008

This is the time of year when people look back at the year, compile lists and make awards. So I’ve got an award of my own: which politician from any party, political persuasion or country, was the best story-teller of 2008?

It’s lean pickings from the Liberal Democrats, I’m afraid.

New leader Nick Clegg worked all year to tell a story: that Labour have had their day and can’t create a fairer Britain; the Conservatives won’t but the Liberal Democrats will make it happen. It was old third party wine in twenty first century bottles, but showed promise all the same. After the banks went bang, the media meta-narrative took a new turn: the government’s response to the recession and the “Brown bounce”. Nick's story was squashed flat. Ever since, the party has struggled to tell a story about the economy, as distinct from Vince Cable’s razor-sharp commentaries.

Ros Scott told a good story and thrashed MP Lembit Opik in the contest for party president. But it was an internal election, for an ill-defined job. Most of the previous incumbents have checked into the obscurity hotel.

And let’s not even talk about the Lib Dems’ campaign for the London mayor and assembly.

The Conservatives should have had an easier time of it. Telling their story – “it’s time for a change; Labour must go” – looks straightforward enough. But David Cameron has also been overwhelmed by the economic crisis. He has not told a convincing story about the crisis and, as the year closed, Cameron was losing the economic argument to Gordon Brown.

The Conservative politician who did the best job of telling a “time for a change” story was London’s new mayor, Boris Johnson. He doesn’t get first prize because, after six months, Johnson still hasn’t fashioned a “governing narrative” that helps Londoners to understand what he is trying to do. So far, in his honeymoon phase, that hasn’t mattered too much. It will in 2009, as a deep recession really hits a city that is well used to good times. If the mayor can tell a story and leads Londoners through the crisis, he will well on the way towards re-election.

Labour at last found someone who can tell a story: Gordon Brown! This must be one of the most ironic plot twists that British politics has seen in a long time. That’s partly because Brown’s failure to provide his government with a narrative has deeply frustrated Labour supporters.

There’s an even bigger irony: Brown had a narrative, that from his decade as chancellor: thanks to him, Britain’s economy was strong and stable and the years of “boom and bust” were over. The onset of recession and the reversals of financial economic policy should have finished him, for Brown no longer embodied his narrative. Yet telling stories has saved him, so far.

The Observer’s Andrew Rawnsley said it very well on Sunday:

As the banks crashed, Brown bounced. This is partly because he has been brilliant at spinning the blame for the crisis away from himself. The international institutions failed. So said the man who had chaired the reform committee of the IMF for many years. The bubble economy in America was the culprit. So said the man who recommended an honorary knighthood for Alan Greenspan, the father of that bubble. It was down to the reckless gambling of the bankers. So said the man who indulged a lightly regulated City for a decade. The Tories howled, but largely to no avail. Polling suggests that most voters were, and still are, broadly prepared to buy the prime minister's account of the origins of the recession.

So far, the public also seems ready to buy his “active government, for the people” versus the “do-nothing Tories, for the bankers” story lines that have appeared over the last few weeks. Yes, you’ve got it: ‘the enemy over the water’, ‘the rot within’, even the strong community; the old ones are always the best ones.

Brown’s achievement is weird for another reason. As he saved the world the banks and showed other countries how to stave off disaster, he seemed authoritative, confident and in command. Above all, he looked more experienced than the “novice” Cameron. The PM embodied the rest his story: “I can fix what they have done; the other guy can’t”.

But he hasn’t brought it all together. In another inversion of the usual rules of politics, Brown embodies a narrative he hasn’t quite told. He is more actions than words.

The narrative can’t be judged a total success, because Brown hasn’t won an election, or even overtaken the Conservatives in the polls. The job losses expected in early 2009 may well blow the story away. So Gordon Brown is not the story-teller of the year either.

To find the best story-teller of 2008, we have to go over the ocean.

In the United States presidential election, a first term African-American senator with a lean CV and a liberal voting record defeated his own party’s “front runner” and then saw off the formidable Republican machine. The key to understanding those victories must be the story that Barack Obama told and the way he told it.

First, Barack Obama caught the attention of the Democratic Party, and then the nation (and not the world), with his personal charisma and his compelling life-story.

Second, Obama made the case for change, in a way that connected with peoples’ emotions. His campaign slogan, “change we can believe in” and the way he kept using words like “chance,” “hope,” and “dream” built up trust in a cynical electorate and stressed the potential for progress. [For the linguistics expert Noah Bubenhofer’s new study of Obama’s rhetoric, click here]. He struck powerful chords with the party’s desire for “liberation” from past disappointments and the public’s desire for a break from the past eight years of Republican rule (“McCain – Bush”) rule in the White House. The use of inclusive rhetoric - we,” “you” (plural) and “us” - created what Bubenhofer calls “a strong feeling of community and identification between [Obama] and his audience”.

Third, Obama backed up the case for change with emotional and rational arguments. The way he discussed, in specific ways, the daily challenges facing average Americans, such as rising energy costs, mortgage worries and healthcare premiums, enabled him to connect and empathise with voters.

The emotional appeals were fortified by solid policy details (stories): promoting innovation and upward social mobility; ensuring that more people can have access to healthcare; building a better “safety net” for poorer people; cutting taxes for low income senior citizens and repeal tax cuts for the wealthiest 1 percent of Americans; widening access to education and launching an Apollo project for clean energy and energy independence.

Obama embodied his narrative. We have learned how a black man born in Hawaii to an immigrant father – who himself was born and raised in a small village in Kenya and “went to school in a tin- roof shack” - and a white, single mother struggled with a multiracial background and a broken home gained a world-class education and went on to become the first black man to edit the Harvard Law Review. This is a uniquely American story of identity and hope: Obama embodied the notion that exciting new things - change – can happen in America.

The newcomer represented a generational shift, away from the baby boomers, the neo-cons and culture war politics and towards a new sense of optimism about America’s future.

And whatever was thrown at him, Obama held his nerve. In the general election campaign, his level headedness and sense of composure did a great deal to reassure floating voters that Obama could lead.

In all of these ways, Obama told brilliantly a story about how America could leave behind the divisions of the past and find a new direction as one nation, united behind a common purpose. An optimistic story, about the future. “Yes, we can” and yes, he did.

That’s why Barack Obama, who will soon become the 44th president of the United States, is my political storyteller of the year.

Myths, legends and why Churchill and Thatcher may be Nick Clegg's biggest challenge

What interesting times we live in! One thing that many voters say they don’t like about Gordon Brown is that he’s been in office too long. Now the PM says that “experience” is a good reason to trust him and many people seem to agree. David Cameron has spent nearly three years trying to be everyone’s little friend. But in yesterday’s conference speech, he presented himself as a Thatcher-style conviction politician, ready to take tough, unpopular decisions.

What’s really going on here is a lot of myth-making and story-telling. Well, it’s more than that. Both the Labour and Tory leaders are trying not to be “out-mythed”. And they are both trying very hard to change their narratives.

Check out this fascinating article by Todd Gitlin, professor of journalism and sociology at Columbia University. He writes about America’s “true” election campaign . . .

“. . . the deep campaign, the subsurface campaign, which concerns not just what the candidates say but who they are and what they represent -- what they
symbolize.

“The candidates become, in a sense, walking archetypes. To warm to a candidate is to align not just with a person but with a myth, an ideal.”

What makes the 2008 contest so intriguing, says Gitlin, is that it pitches against each other two archetypes: one familiar, one unfamiliar. John McCain is the rugged, plain-spoken, straight-shooting; a John Wayne, take-charge, warrior-in-command –type. Republican-leaning voters like that. Remember Ronald Reagan and both Bushes.

According to Gitlin, Barack Obama is the quintessential exotic outsider. He hails from exotic Hawaii, foreign Indonesia, “elegant Harvard” and “down-and-dirty Chicago”, all at the same time! He is also, in some respects, an intellectual and, yes, a celebrity. He scrambles the stereotypes, jumbles up the myths and symbols and represents the unfamiliar.

“So that’s the clash. McCain, the known quantity, the maverick turned lawman, fiery when called on to fight, an icon of the old known American story of standing tall, holding firm, protecting God’s country against the stealthy foe. Obama is the new kid on the block, the immigrant’s child, the recruit, fervent but still preternaturally calm, embodying some complicated future that we haven’t yet mapped, let alone experienced. He is impure — the walking, talking melting pot in person. In his person, the next America is still taking shape.

“The warrior turned lawman confronts the community organizer turned law professor. The sheriff (who married the heiress) wrestles with the outsider who rode into town and made a place for himself. No wonder this race is thrilling and tense. America is struggling to fasten a name on its soul.”

British politics may seem more sophisticated, the discourse more party- and policy-oriented and less personal. The voters are probably less credulous than their American cousins, their prevailing myths and legends more subtle and refined. Perhaps: the British sense of shared identity may be clearer, making the “culture wars” less important (amongst the dominant groups) than across the Atlantic.

We shouldn’t brush aside the power of archetypes too easily though. Previous prime ministers have evoked mythical symbols. Margaret Thatcher did Elizabeth I and Churchill at different times. John Major morphed from decent guy next door to hapless, almost comedic man-out-of-his-depth. Tony Blair was the charming, youthful, urban family man who would renew Britain; later, he was the doughty war leader, the Christian soldier who would boldly defend his island nation. And leaders are surely now more important than ever before in shaping voter perceptions of the UK parties.

If Gordon Brown has evoked any myth over the last year, it’s a dismal one: the stolid, over-serious, long-serving number two and pretender to the throne who finally becomes the king and fails utterly to rally the nation. You are more likely to find his archetype in Greek or Shakespearean tragedies – or perhaps, TV dramas and comedies -- than in the nobler pages of political history. People see it though: why else did Vince Cable’s “from Stalin to Mr Bean” gibe work so well?

David Cameron’s personal narrative has been remarkably similar to Blair’s. He has posed as the youthful agent of change who has made over his party and promises to do the same for the country. But many people still don’t see the plan, the end of the story. Nor is there a well-understood story of political struggle. Whereas Blair took on his party and won, with a symbolic triumph -- the end of Clause IV-- Cameron’s old Tory dragon has not been slain so much as chloroformed out of choice.

Since the nightmare on Wall Street, Gordon Brown has seized the opportunity to convert his existing narrative into a new archetype: the wise man; stead hand at the tiller, the calm and experienced manager of a crisis. The PM invited people to compare that with the “novice” David Cameron. (What a frame!) The ComRes poll in Tuesday’s Independent suggested that his new gambit could work, at least for a time.

Cameron tried to share some of the neo-Churchillian glow by looking stern and serious and publicly offering to help the government where he can. After all, Tony Blair’s original “have it all ways” brand of politics was born of good times and would be little use in a recession. But if all Cameron does is follow Brown, he risks becoming irrelevant and also closing off his political options for the future. His narrative could leave him behind meaning that a new one was needed. So, in his conference speech, Cameron evoked the myth of Margaret Thatcher, claiming that he has the judgment, character and leadership skills to rebuild Britain’s economy and society. The Tories loved it.

Whether that works for Cameron or not, Nick Clegg needs to gain a good part in this morality play. When it comes to archetypes and symbols, his options seem pretty limited. Past Liberal heroes? Even if they fitted, the likes of Asquith and Lloyd George wouldn’t be much help. A century on, most voters aren’t familiar with their myths or their rhetoric. Vince Cable, the party’s plain-speaking, well-respected authority on economic matters? Nick Clegg can’t plausibly claim to be someone else who is still very active in politics, though Vince is becoming part of the Lib Dem brand.

Nick Clegg’s best (and, I suspect, most likely) persona could be as a kind of outside, independent voice in the system, who looks out for “ordinary people” and demands financial policies that put them first. There is a parallel with Obama, in that’s not a familiar archetype. It could mean taking a few calculated political risks, but without stumbling down the path of cheap, anti-banker populism. What I am suggesting is that the Lib Dems should combine speaking up for ordinary people with sound thinking and straight talk on economic policy.

If you think that sounds too clever, remember that empathy with “ordinary people” is becoming central to the party’s brand once again. It also seems that Nick can embody such a narrative, with Vince Cable doing the same for the party’s economic credibility. And after all, something similar ending up working well for Charles Kennedy on Iraq (though Charles did not know that before he took the position he did). Maybe there’s a Liberal Democrat political myth, an archetype in the making. One vital, positive point is that we believe it.

Deputy mayor quits: what's at stake for Boris Johnson

So, Boris Johnson is a deputy mayor down. Ray Lewis has quit under a cloud and this morning’s papers are full of phrases like “hammer blow” and “gift to his opponents”. Jo keeps reminding me that she predicted long ago that Johnson’s lack of managerial competence would be his undoing.

There’s another reason the mayor should be worried: just three months into his term, Johnson is not embodying his carefully crafted political narrative. In marketing speak, his brand may get contaminated, all over again.

During the mayoral campaign, Boris Johnson told people a classic “time for a change” story. He offered a new face, a new style, a new focus on London’s issues and, above all, an end to staff and administrative scandals at City Hall.

That worked because during the campaign, he struck a chord with voters. And Johnson embodied his narrative by being younger, newer and more approachable than Ken Livingstone. At the same time, he was serious, measured and upbeat about London and its future.

When a Ray Lewis happens and the mayor is forced on to the backfoot, with the sort of media he faces this morning, Johnson does not live his story.

In his 1995 book Leading Minds, Howard Gardner stressed how leaders need to embody their narratives in order to be authentic and credible and bring their stories alive.

Even the most brilliant and successful political narratives implode. Interestingly, it's because the politicians telling the stories cease to embody them. When that happens, those politicians are soon on their way out. Churchill’s “fight them on the beaches” story eventually morphed into the infamous 1945 campaign speech that compared the Labour party to the Gestapo. Margaret Thatcher promised the anxious middle classes that she would “make Britain again”. The grocer’s daughter worked all hours. The story ended with the poll tax rots and government splits over the ERM. Tony Blair was the young leader of a “new Britain”; he dressed and acted accordingly. He ended up taking it into Iraq, telling a story that was false.

Johnson’s defenders will say it’s still early days yet. So it is. But London voters gave Boris Johnson the benefit of the doubt. Whilst they are very different, the last UK politician to be given that was Gordon Brown when he became prime minister. And Brown’s popularity collapsed when he stopped embodying his narrative. The visionary prime minister, the strong leader who offered a new, spin-free style of government played politics with the timing of a general election. Then he looked at the marginal seat polls, dithered and finally ditched the idea. We still do not know what Brown is trying to achieve as PM. The conscience of New Labour scrapped the 10p income tax rate – playing politics again – and left more than 5 million low-income households worse off. Then, in an effort to quell a political firestorm, the one-time iron chancellor put his own fiscal rules at risk with a £2.7bn compensation scheme.

It’s a grim, powerful lesson. If Boris Johnson does not regain control over his story and his brand, he may end up suffering the same fate as Brown.

Come see about me

Which matters most – personal stories or policies and issues?

It's a false choice.

Exhibit A. Matt Bai of the New York Times has tidily explained the main difference between the strategies of Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. He relates it all back to their top campaign strategists.

Senator Obama is advised by David Axelrod:

". . . an advertising guy . . . who perfected the craft of encapsulating an entire life in 30 seconds, he has a gift for telling personal stories in ways that people can understand. Axelrod’s essential insight — the idea that has made him successful where others might have failed — is that the modern campaign really isn’t about the policy arcana or the candidate’s record; it’s about a more visceral, more personal narrative.

"This is probably a big reason why Mr. Obama has, from the start, focused almost exclusively on broad themes of “hope” and “change.”"

Senator Clinton is advised by Mark Penn:

". . . a pollster, and pollsters tend to look at campaigns as a series of dissectible data points that either attract voters or drive them away. Get a health care plan and an economic plan that 70 percent of people say they view favorably. Pay attention to words that move the dial in focus groups, like “real solutions for America” or “ready to lead on Day 1.” "

"Mrs. Clinton’s relentless focus on pragmatism and specificity, as well as her willingness to shift slogans, are not simply a result of her own personality but also of Mr. Penn’s strategic outlook, which values testable ideas and phrases over more sweeping imagery and themes."

Of course, Mr Obama does polls and Mrs Clinton has tried to convey a story. But their respective strengths leave no room for wonder that the campaign has been so closely fought. Matt Bai concludes:

"Mr. Axelrod’s storytelling has created a dynamic hero who sometimes seems estranged from the practicalities of governing; Mr. Penn’s data has created a credible platform put forth by a candidate whose theory of leadership can seem small. What voters love in one they crave in the other. "

Exhibit B. The New York Times reports this morning that the near-certain Republican nominee, Senator John McCain plans to use his life story and military experience to connect with voters. He is starting a Service to America tour, taking in key stops from his and his family’s careers in the forces, in an effort to introduce Senator McCain to a wider audience.

But Republican pundit William Kristol warns convincingly that “biography isn’t enough” because the American electorate doesn’t always show due gratitude to war heroes. He adds that this may reflect “a healthy hard headedness” and “a sensible pragmatism”.

He then argues that:

"Candidate McCain should be working overtime on a broad reform agenda — education reform, health insurance reform, tax reform, government reform, Wall Street reform. He could start by outlining an up-to-date, capitalism-friendly and transparency-requiring approach to regulating the credit markets. (He might also suggest taxing “carried interest” as ordinary income, if only to watch the fur fly among hedge-fund fat cats.)"

I think that a candidate needs both “personal stories” and “issues”; they need have to work in tandem.

OK, so that’s all about America and people on this side of the Atlantic tend to be more reserved. Politicians aren’t expected to spill their personal stories to the same extent. The conventional wisdom is that British elections are decided mostly on competence, party images and issues.

But UK party leaders still need to embody their parties' narratives. They need to tell personal stories, to make the narratives appear more authentic.

Remember John Major’s televised trip back to Brixton in 1992, which brought home the politics of opportunity and aspiration.

Or the youthful Tony Blair’s 1997 promise of a new Britain under New Labour. His physical appearance, a young man with a young family, sent a subliminal message. Labour's pledge card tapped into the concerns of his target voters.

Today, the leaders’ failure to tell powerful personal stories illustrate the weaknesses of their respective parties’ narratives.

Gordon Brown has not told a personal story that enables him to connect with the electorate. He thinks Labour’s narrative is about “opportunity for all” but nobody seems to have noticed.

David Cameron has told of his own family’s experiences of the NHS. But that doesn’t – yet – amount to the personal story. The vision and substance of the Conservative narrative is still a work in progress. But he’s a new face for an electorate that wants change.

Nick Clegg opened his speech to the spring conference in Liverpool by mentioning his grandmother, a Russian exile and his mother, who spent part of her childhood in a Japanese prisoner of war camp in Indonesia. “They found a home in Britain because ours is a nation of tolerance, of freedom, and of compassion.” But these stories aren’t about him. And the narrative that Nick Clegg is gradually building is about creating a better politics; and this co-exists alongside another about fighting for a more equal Britain, “the people versus the powerful”.

Let’s see who gets there first.