Summary
THERE was a moment at the Labour Party Conference which captured, fleetingly but tellingly, the dilemma that is Gordon Brown. As Tony Blair turned to him and delivered his eulogy: "He's a remarkable man, a remarkable servant to this country, and that's the truth," the cameras swung round to Brown, seated on the platform alongside him. It was immediately clear that he did not know quite how to react. He attempted a nodded acknowledgement and a smile of appreciation, but it came out wrong. The head twisted awkwardly sideways, the grin was forced, the lips simply would not form the proper shape to send back the simplest of messages - thanks.
A Tony Blair or a David Cameron would have had no problem in confecting a reaction. The famous Blair teeth would have flashed a gesture of reconciliation, an "aw shucks" shrug of the shoulders would have won a laugh. Cameron might have done something cringingly spontaneous, but effective, like jumping up and giving his leader an arm-squeeze or a handshake of reconciliation. Brown does not do spontaneous. It is not in his nature to present himself in public without due regard for the impact of what he says or does. During the long years in Blair's shadow, the careful rehearsal for high office and the endless postponement of its delivery, he has learned to suppress the true nature of his feelings and even his character. Now, at the point where we need to know what those are, he finds it almost impossible to express them.See the full content of this document
Extract
Smile, Gordon, or It May Never Happen
And this is the dilemma. That Brown has depth and a clear sense of purpose is not in doubt. A thick volume of his speeches, delivered between 1997 and 2006, has just been published by Bloomsbury. It is not light reading, but it is far from dull. It explores the develop...
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