Here’s another law of politics: all public service tends towards infantilisation. It’s a law in two parts.

I have a seven year-old daughter. She’s not particularly tidy. Most days her bedroom looks like how I imagine how Daily Mail readers imagine how Eastern European migrants live. You see, she can and does make the most stupendous mess without the help, input or consultation of anybody.

But when it comes to tidying that mess? Ah, that’s not a job for a single person at all. No help is begged in making the mess but much is begged in its reversal. There are tears and shouting. A team effort tidies the room but a few days later…

And so it is with government. Or at least this government. Think of all the messes it has made in the last eleven years. Now think of how little clearing up has actually been done. How much mess has been edged away from, swept under the rug of media manipulation and generally ignored? Because all public service tends towards infantilisation. Someone will be along at some point to clean up for them.

The second part of the law involves respect for property. My daughter has a cuddly sheepdog toy called Charlie which is her most treasured possession. She’s always losing him in the house. Panic ensues at bedtime.

I always know where my keys, mobile, money and mp3 player are because I remember where I left them. Even I’m bored at the sound off me giving this lecture. But does it go in? What do you think? My back hurts from all the looking under the sofa I do for that sodding dog.

And so it is with government. Or at least this government. Think of all the important, important stuff it’s lost over the years. Laptops, laptops and more laptops. Data, data and more data. Dignity, dignity and more dignity.

The latest is military ID cards. Eleven thousand have been lost in the last two years.

Like my daughter, the government know just how important these things are to them but will they learn? But does it go in? What do you think? The loss is blithely announced but nothing much else seems to be done. And then there’s another announcement. We rarely even get a ‘sorry’, not that that would do much good.

Sorry, as I’m also bored of lecturing my daughter, carries an implicit promise to improve one’s behaviour. It’s not merely a placatory or assuaging device to smooth things over until the next crisis. Sorry’s no good without an attendant change in behaviour.

Because all public service tends towards infantilisation. Lost your laptops, data disks and military ID cards? Here’s some money to go and buy replacements. It’s an adjunct to the magic wallet theory.

Now, all this would be more forgiveable if the government didn’t itself treat us like children. The whispered conversations behind closed doors. The ‘this is for your own good’. The ‘do as I say or go to your room’. The ‘do as I say, not do as I do’. Being infantilised by the infantile is demeaning.

It’s like hearing a disapproving sigh at your behaviour from a seven year-old. Trust me, I get it all the time.

(Cross-posted from Chicken Yoghurt)

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