It is interesting that the current reappraisal of Tony Blair seeks to identify which aspects of the British Prime Minister himself are flawed and venal, rather than engage in a coherent analysis of the meaning of events.
We are, it appears, in the throes of discovering things about Mr Blair that I imagined we already "knew": that he is cunning and ruthless; that he is consumed with presentation over substance; that he is not "real", but the product of the spells of unelected spindoctors charged, above all, with getting his government re-elected. Wow! There is a name for this syndrome: it is called "politics". Those who find fault with it on the basis that it is in some way bogus, unethical or cynical are either themselves being cynical or are secretly canvassing for admission to the Boy Scouts. Last week's leaked memo from "TB" demanding of his spinmeisters that he become more identified with popular initiatives is shocking only to those who have failed to reflect upon the change that has occurred in modern politics since the introduction of opinion-polling.
To condemn such perspectives is to invoke a 1960s model of political idealism and virtue which is no longer tenable. It is especially shocking when this disingenuous form of criticism comes from the media, from which the impetus for the changed culture has largely emanated. There was never an issue about whether or not Tony Blair should concentrate on image and presentation; only about whether he could become sufficiently adept at these dark arts to win.
Pandering to "public opinion" was the name of the game. As it emerged he was better at it than everyone else, which is why his victory was among the greatest in British political history. Once elected, the issue was not whether he would or should engage in the politics of perception, but how he could do so and achieve worthwhile goals.
Mr Blair's own hand-wringing about his failure to connect with "gut British instincts" shows an endearing naivety on the part of the Prime Minister. There is no "gut British instinct"; there is only the consensus of the public view, as articulated in opinion polls, garnered by newspapers which themselves drive the agenda and interpret all responses to it.
What is interpreted as "public opinion" from opinion polls is not the perspective of real people but the cybernetic response of quota-controlled samples, which deliver not so much a reflection of the views of the public as of the debased unit of public opinion, the quark. This is created by a circular process involving pseudo-moralistic hectoring on the part of the media, choreographed posturing on the part of politicians, and political correctness on the part of the polled public, resulting in a currency that is further debased with each cycle of the machine.
This means that it is necessary for the modern politician to speak at all times with forked tongue: simultaneously in the language of idealism or industry to those who make things happen in the economy and society, and in the language of piety and unction for the benefit of the quark. Inevitably, these two are in conflict, but the real challenge is maintaining the correct balance to allow important things to be done while observing the elementary precaution of retaining office.
It must be especially galling for the modern politician that the media, which to all intents and purposes drive the quark, then behave as though it did not exist, lecturing and hectoring politicians for pandering to the very forces which they have conspired to create. It is the media which have made conviction, idealism and sincerity impossible, because it is the media which punish these qualities where they occur.
In Mr Blair's first speech to the annual Labour Party conference in 1994, he touched on the ineluctable dichotomy of modern politics when he said: "There is no choice between being principled and unelectable and electable and unprincipled. We have tortured ourselves with this foolishness for too long."
But Mr Blair was wrong: the choice is precisely between principle, of the old style that exposes politicians to equally ferocious attack from some direction or other no matter what they do - and this driven by the media, regardless of the rights and wrongs - and getting elected - which resides in saying as little as possible with a view to fooling as many people as possible for as long as it takes to achieve office.
If Mr Blair says he is not a socialist, he gets attacked in the media; if he says he is a socialist he also gets attacked. The answer is to say things so meaningless they can be taken either way. Mr Blair is actually an extremely successful Prime Minister. He has restored the British economy to something approaching solidity, has spearheaded the achievement of peace in the North of Ireland and has, above all, re-created the image of Britain in the modern world.
There are many individual aspects of his performance and policies with which I would profoundly disagree: for example, that he is craven in his attempts to pander to misinformed opinion in the matter of gender and family issues; but this, curiously, is not something his critics tend to disapprove of. But only a fool would deny that Britain is now an infinitely better place than in the Tory years. Mr Blair is an inspiring and deeply charismatic leader, and we have precious few of those left in the modern world.
His alleged lack of "sincerity" or "authenticity" are not so much personal defects as necessary wounds in a culture of politics which leaves no room for these qualities. It is not that Mr Blair is insincere, but rather that the risk of presenting his sincerity to the public is too great. He is now attacked because he refuses to commit political suicide. In the culture of the quark, this is a crime punishable by political execution.