Revolution for sale

TWO. February 8th 2019

Saturdays used to be for digging the garden, country walks or watching football. These days they are frequently taken up with politics or, as my wife prefers to call it, agitating. On half a dozen Saturdays over the past eighteen months or so I’ve been out on one commuter-belt High Street or another trying to get people to accept leaflets and perhaps to sign a petition / wear a sticker. Leafletting may be seen as the bread and butter ingredient of activism; it is an inevitable accompaniment to almost any campaign, requires no special qualifications, and fills up space. It might also be regarded as a ‘gateway’ activity, seducing the novice – persuaded to come and help out for an hour – into more serious and consuming things which have the potential to take over their life.

I’m rather good at it. This is a surprise as I’m not a natural extrovert and the idea of trying to sell anything to anybody has typically filled me with dread, which is partly why I went into social work after I left university while most of my peers were signing up on graduate schemes for software companies. Dread is what I feel as the time approaches to put on the campaign t-shirt and assemble at the designated meeting point with a disparate group of enthusiasts to be briefed by an earnest, jolly man with a clipboard and a flag.

The dread is usually enough to make me a few minutes late so that I miss some of the introductions and instructions. Although it feels like simple shyness and fear of exposure I’ve come to recognise that it’s probably a bit more complicated than that, encompassing a general resistance to activism / inclination  to passivity. I would really much rather somebody else worried about this stuff and let me dig the garden / watch the football. This same resistance has led me on more that one occasion to turn up for a rally or meeting not only late but at entirely the wrong place. I saw a t-shirt for sale recently which bore the slogan “I’m sorry I’m late, I didn’t want to come”. I might buy one to wear for leafletting as it would save me the trouble of needing a different t-shirt for each campaign.

On this occasion, my slightly late arrival requires a re-calculation of small groups and a re-distribution of stickers, numbers of which are considered inadequate to meet likely demand. I am allocated to a group of four people, the other three of whom all know each other through a party affiliation which I don’t have. We stroll off down the High Street chatting  until we eventually shuffle to a halt realising that none of us is exactly clear on our designated distribution point. The usual discussions ensue about footfall, demographics and avoiding intruding on the patch of another group or attracting charges of obstructing the pavement. All of this, in my view, is more resistance. On this day I have worked out that I could actually complete my leafletting duties and get home in time to watch the football, so I am assertive in independently declaring my area of operation and I stride off to get on with it.

I’ve discovered through experience that it is much more enjoyable and effective when leafletting to approach people confidently and openly, as if you are quite sure that what you are offering is of value and importance. At the same time, you want to show that you recognise that the person you are approaching has other important priorities for their time. I usually say something like “Good morning, Madam (or Sir), can I offer you one of these?” or perhaps “Good morning Sir (or Madam), can I interest you in this?”. For some reason I particularly like the”Good Morning Sir / Madam” bit. I guess it provides some sort of shield of performance right from the off. I’ve found it usually at least engages the other person and it enables me to be confident, friendly and possibly even charming in addressing them further, if that seems called for – for example answering questions on what the leaflet is about, responding to challenges or building on a positive reaction – “That’s good to hear. Can I give you a sticker as well? You can even have a poster to put in your window if you like”. I try to be relational, recognising the individuality of the other – “You look very busy, madam, but can I just give you one of these as you pass?” or “I can see you haven’t really got a free hand for this leaflet but maybe I could just poke it in the pocket of the buggy? Hello!” (to baby). That sort of thing.

This is simple sales patter, of course, but it works and I feel oddly real and connected when I’m doing it even even though I know I’m acting a part. I really wish I’d understood some of this when I was a teenager and had no clue as to how to approach girls, suffering a deal of loneliness and anxiety as a result. One of my social group  during late adolescence claimed that his strategy for getting young women to dance with him in clubs was simply to approach as many as possible; by the law of averages he was bound to have some success. Judging by his account, regardless of whether these encounters led eventually to him having a happy and stable long-term relationship, I’m certain that he had a much more enjoyable time at clubs and parties than me; I spent almost all my time in such places feeling stupid and miserable, ashamed of my abject failure to even attempt to meet someone new.

In those days, if I wasn’t sitting on my own in a  corner drinking a bit too much I  would probably seek refuge in a group of like-minded sufferers and stand around with them chatting with forced cheerfulness and pretending I wasn’t wasting my time. I’ve noticed that this is often the eventual recourse of those who struggle with the leafletting game; they end up hanging around in clumps talking to each other rather than the public and limply holding out the occasional leaflet to a passer-by with the obvious expectation that it’s going to be rejected. They end up looking like a bunch of sad losers and, believe me, this is not a good look if you’re trying to persuade people of your cause.

They also end up looking like they have nothing else more important to do and, while this might sound like it conveys worthiness, it is definitely unattractive and therefore counter-productive. I prefer, instead, to seem as if I have numerous other options for spending my time (which Indeed I have) and so I need to give out all my leaflets as soon as possible so that I can go off and get on with them. In this spirit, I  handed out my leaflets in less that half the time allocated and then got shot of another pile which one of my colleagues, observing my success, had pleaded with me to take off his hands.

Quite how we measure success, of course, is debatable. The leaflet has a long journey to make before it has been read, understood and appreciated, absorbed and acted upon. And who knows even then whether that action (in this case the recipient of the leaflet was urged to write to their MP, who I am sure will be unsympathetic) will have any influence. I gave out lots of leaflets, mostly to people who smiled at me and looked interested, but for all I know they threw them in the bin unread as soon as they got round the corner.

But this is only one of many uncertainties for the activist. I would never have started on this if I required convincing that my activism would actually make a difference in terms of political outcomes. I have no idea if it will. What I do know is that it’s making me feel better – not at all in the sense of feeling more comfortable, but in the sense of feeling inspired, aware, connected to values.. I wouldn’t say I feel hopeful but I certainly feel alive. And the better I feel, the more I feel like doing. I left my fellow leafleteers still burdened with their piles, gave them a cheery wave and shot off . As I went away I heard someone describe me as a “wizard” at handing out leaflets, which really made the whole event worthwhile.