I am sitting in the lounge at Heathrow's Terminal Five, a
monument to the idea that one of the few acceptable occupations
for sadists that doesn't involve wearing black leather or working in TV
programming is designing airline terminals. It is absurdly complex, gigantic, uninviting, cold and just the perfect
atmosphere for turning weary travelers into snarling, drooling knots of
hostility.
In fact, I have a theory that one of the central problems in
international relations is created by the brutal, dehumanizing nature of world
travel. Well intentioned souls who want
to build international understanding and good will get on airplanes and by the
time they get to their destination, they want to kill, subjugate native
cultures and exploit their natural resources. If people on airlines were
actually nice and airports were not the meat-grinders of the soul
they are, perhaps people would arrive in new countries with a positive outlook,
a smile and less of an impulse to steal valuable intellectual property.
Of course, it all depends on the country into which you
arrive. My 24 hours in the United Kingdom have exposed me to a kind of
giddiness that one seldom sees outside the slumber parties of 11-year-old
girls. There is only one thing that can cause the British to drop the reserved
mortician act and reveal their inner Spice Girl (or for the more sophisticated
among you, their inner Alan Ayckbourn).
And that of course is the misfortune of prominent Brits, in this case, Prime
Minister Gordon Brown.
It is ironic that Brown, who probably couldn't inspire a
reflection out of his mirror, is triggering such hilarity. But following what newspapers are heralding
as the worst national election defeat for his party since King Arthur (ok, since
the first World War), the prime minister has people marveling at the
surpassing awfulness of his situation. In the wake of scandal, financial crisis, fiscal catastrophe and
Manchester United's crushing defeat at the hands of Barcelona, Brown is hanging
on only by what the Guardian calls "the brute business of internal
politics, especially the crushing of internal dissent." Key cabinet
members have resigned. Others are openly plotting
against
him. And yet, Rasputin-like, he survives the poisoning, the gun-shots, and
the stabbings.
Of course, ultimately Rasputin got tossed in the river and
drowned and sooner or later Brown will probably go the way of the dodo. And the Labour Party will probably go with
him. Probably. But talking to a senior British business leader
today, it was explained that if only Labour could forestall an election until
next year and if the economy were to start to turn around, "they might just win
because no one believes that the Conservatives, once in office, actually will
have any idea what to do."
You see, the problem with the conservatives is that what
they are right now is The Party That is Not Labour. And appropriately, their leader, David
Cameron, is The Political Leader Who
Is Not Gordon Brown. Literally, that
is virtually Cameron's only distinction. He is, in the words of one member of the House of Lords with whom I
spoke (Ooo La La. The House of Lords. They would be so impressed back in New
Jersey.), "a former PR guy, that says it all." I've actually met Cameron. I
chaired a panel he was on in Davos once. And I have to say, he's such an empty suit he wouldn't feel out of place
on a hanger at Brooks Brothers.
So that is the choice here in the United Kingdom: the guys
who screwed it up versus the guys who are going to screw it up...at a moment
when the country and all Europe face problems of a scale unseen in
decades. Which is why the giddiness at the
horrendousness of the past few days for Brown seems an appropriate
reaction. Much like the laughter you see
coming from the shell-shocked in old British war movies. It's also why every one I spoke to here,
regardless of political persuasion got all doe-eyed
and misty whenever Barack Obama's name came up. They're not sure he will be a big success
either. But at least he might be. At least he looks like a leader. At least he sounds like one.
Meanwhile Britain is as rudderless as it has been at any
time since the 1970s when they were teaching the world a thing or two about
collapsing empires and bungled bail-outs of auto companies. (Which reminds me. Speaking of botched leadership, Steve
Rattner, please go read about British Leyland.)
And this damn airport is not helping to dispel the
impression of a nation in disarray. So
I'm leaving. And going someplace that is
prospering: Mumbai.
Leon Neal/AFP/Getty Images
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