Tom Harris says I was “predictably cruel” to Khalid Mahmood who (perhaps deliberately) died on his feet at PMQs. How hard is it to ask a question, I said. “Well, you’ll never know the answer to that, Fraser, but believe me, it’s a lot harder than it looks, and certainly a lot harder than sitting in your office criticising the efforts of others,” replies Tom.
This may surprise Harris, but I actually agree with him in that I have no doubt that I’d be a dismal MP. I don’t think many political journalists believe they could do better than the ones whom we, from time to time, lay into. Criticism does no timply that the critic thinks he could do better. When football fans lambast a player on their team, it’s normally only the most drunken ones who shout “give me your shirt”. When Deborah Ross trashes Keira Knightly for being “as empty as if she were in a perfume ad” (read her review here) she’s not saying “I’d do better”.
This leads to an understandable frustration from people who do, being panned by people who write. It bubbles to the surface now and again – like when George Clooney asked the critics of Solaris if they could make a better film. But as was immediately pointed out to him, that’s not the point. Not many restaurateurs panned by AA Gill would attack him on the basis that he can’t cook. He specialises in eating and writing. It’s a different skill set.
Harris proposes, however, that only former MPs have the “right” to critique politicians. He says:- “No journalist who has not experienced it himself, and who therefore has no grasp of the pressures individuals are under at that moment when the Speaker calls your name, has the right to criticise those who have.”
People do cross the divide successfully. Matthew Parris, Michael Portillo and Alan Hansen one way. Michael Gove, Nigel Lawson and Neil Tennant the other. But they are the exceptions. So yes, it is unfair. But the distinction between those who do, and those who write, will be around for some time yet.
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