It was just after the Tory party conference last year that I met Alex Salmond. Not alone, obviously, but as one of a group of about 15 people. The group contained quite a few dignitaries, some of them Scottish, so he gave us the full court press. Lunch at his official residence, preceded by a 45-minute reception. The First Minister was there for the duration, ladling out the charm like heather honey.
I’ve met a few senior politicians in my time, including the last three British prime ministers, and Salmond was easily the most impressive. It’s customary on these sorts of occasions for the politician to work the room, spending a few moments with each person. It’s a well-established routine — you’re introduced by an assistant, eye contact is established, your hand is shaken, you’re asked a few questions that are supposed to indicate that the politician knows exactly who you are (they’ve usually just been briefed by the intermediary), and they end by saying ‘Nice to see you’ (never ‘Nice to meet you’ in case you’ve met before).
In Primary Colours, Joe Klein’s book about Bill Clinton, he describes this ritual as ‘the threshold act, the beginning of politics’. It’s not just about making the person feel like they’re the centre of the room, which is relatively easy. The tricky part is to do this while simultaneously letting them feel the full force of your magnetic personality. The most successful politicians project an aura of public power and then make people feel special by admitting them into their private sanctum, albeit for just 30 seconds. The aim is to make them feel like an individual, recognised for their personal worth, and then leave them dazzled by your personal charisma — empower them and enslave them at the same time.

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