Corbyn as Orator

There is this notion among the political class that Corbyn’s not much cop as an orator; that he emits streams of well-meaning platitudes, but connects only with the already-convinced. Behind this is a set of assumptions about what political rhetoric is supposed to sound like, what its characteristic gestures and appeals should be, which is very much shaped by the culture and education of that group of people.

For those outside of the political class, their supposedly top-notch orators (Hilary Benn, say) sound equally if not more platitudinous, equally as much as if they’re speaking only to a narrow audience of others just like themselves. But of course you’re less likely to notice that if you’ve always and only been part of that audience, if everything that’s been said in public political discourse over the past decade has been addressed to people like you, by people like you.

Part of the joy of Corbyn is that he represents a tradition and a manner of address which is completely alien to that crowd – one which you get the feeling they’d hoped to have heard the last of. The vehemence of their disgust is symptomatic of something ugly about themselves that they’ve long since forgotten to hide, and it may yet be their undoing.

Of course there are better speakers than Corbyn. If you remember that clip of Michael Sheen doing his best Nye Bevan (for example), you probably wish as much as I do that the present leader of the Labour Party had that sort of poetic fury, that sort of charisma, to go with Corbyn’s unshakeable decency and conviction. But, for what it’s worth, this is a way of talking to people that doesn’t sound – to borrow a phrase of Dennis Potter’s – like a “croak-voiced Dalek” delivering the new ordinances; that constantly refers them back to their own power, instead of reassuring them that the mountebank on the stage is comfortably in charge. It has its own pattern, its own way of moving from one moral touchstone to another, in such a way that the concerns of everybody present are steadily woven together into a single shared picture. It’s not dazzling, but it makes you feel that you and your neighbour should start talking, exchanging perspectives, because you’re involved in something together, side by side.