The day the electorate jilted the Lib Dems

Linstock Associate Ben Rich, ex Deputy Policy Director of the Liberal Democrats and Vice Chair of the Policy Committee, bemoans what might have been on election night.

We Liberal Democrats are used to the occasional flirtation with us by voters between elections: the occasional by-election victory that sets Peter Snow’s swingometer all a-quiver.

We have even had the odd period of elongated engagement, most notably during the height of the alliance, although even then by the time of the 1983 election, we knew the love had gone from the relationship.

Yet this time it was different. This time it was for keeps. The minister was booked, the flowers arranged and the invitations sent out. Despite the odd pre-marital jitters the electorate seemed to have decided this time to see it through.

And then came the day itself. We got all dressed up, gave the rings to the best man and made it to the church in good time. All our friends were waiting to cheer us on and then, at the very last minute the electorate left us standing at the alter.

A friend said to me “you Lib Dems, you’ve been cheated again.” Yes, but not by the electoral system – we all know the system is loaded against us. This time it’s the electorate that has cheated us, left us all dressed up with nowhere to go.

What happened yesterday? There were no fewer than nine opinion polls in the previous 24 hours, showing the Liberal Democrats on a solid 27-28 per cent of the vote. With the occasional ups and downs, this had pretty much been the picture since the third leaders debate. Although our share had slipped from the highs achieved after that first debate, this would have represented a massive advance for the party.

Then, election day and around 20% of our voters (with the honourable exception of Redcar – I must go there) simply went awol.

When push came to shove, in the privacy of the polling booth, the British electorate suffered a collective chronic loss of courage. Some looked left, some right, and simply could not believe that things could really be different. With, I suspect, a collective sigh they choose to vote against what they most feared, rather than for what they actually believed in.

I would say that, would I? Well I suppose so, but then so did the electorate. Even in the week of the election itself nigh on 40 percent were telling pollsters that they would vote Liberal Democrat if they believed we could win in their area. Oh, the agony, I shout, “if you voted for us, we would win!”

But if not now, when? Self-evidently, never again will there be a first ever election debate with all its possibilities for a third party. The old parties have been warned, and the electorate will be less easily bedazzled.

And without such a transformational event is it possible to imagine under this electoral system the circumstances in which – given this experience – voters might ever believe that their neighbour, and their neighbour, will have the courage to vote for the Liberal Democrats, rather than simply against their worst fears?

So I find myself, this morning after, with all the pain of the jilted lover thinking what’s the point? Under this electoral system, the voters will never feel able to give us a break. And so I say to my leaders, if this political impasse opens up even the slightest opportunity to change that system, be self-interested for once - grab it with two hands.

Because, if we don’t, politics will go on the same for ever. Forever, these two old parties and no others. And that, quite, quite clearly is not what the public actually wants or they’d have jumped into bed with one or other of them last night.

And also, because I can’t go through that again. Better, maybe to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but I’m for grabbing the bride’s train as she flees down the aisle and clinging on for dear life.

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