Sir Menzies Campbell

It is a fitting reflection of the billing that the audience of Sir Menzies Campbell should be almost exclusively of a certain vintage. However, an hour in the company of the elder statesman and former leader of the Liberal Democrats confirms the suspicion that he remains more earnest, personable and intelligent than most of today’s front-bench politicians could ever aspire to be.

At 67, he is likely more athletic, too. Sir Menzies competed in the 1964 Tokyo Olympics, running in an unfancied British 4x100m relay team which outperformed expectations simply by making it to the final. Much of the early talk is given over to his sporting exploits, and his recollections of that time are fascinating.

“I was all blood and guts then. Sport made me quite selfish – I didn’t work that hard until I had to earn my keep after university.” Reading the passage from his eponymous autobiography covering the Olympic final, you notice that he refers to his teamates by their last names. Despite the familiarity and camaraderie that between the men, Sir Menzies pays them the respect of colleagues.

Campbell recalls his childhood with detachment, though clearly the memory of his father’s alcoholism hasn’t dimmed. “I never drink whisky; the smell recalls things that I’d much rather forget.” Many elements of his life are described in such simple and dignified terms; briefly outlining his legal career, he says: “the law is my profession. Politics is an occupation. I am a lawyer.”

Respect for the law shone through in his time as Lib Dem spokeman for Foreign Affairs; reading from his book, Sir Menzies chooses the speech he gave when the House of Commons was recalled after 11 September 2001 – a reflection in itself of his respect for the insitution of Parliament over the cult personality. It is a sensitive, measured document that in simple and well-expressed terms warns of the dangers of excessive and illegal use of force by the USA in retaliation.

Sir Menzies’ life in politics has been that of a nearly man, universally respected and courted for his ability, but ultimately always denied the chance of final accomplishment. Offered the chance to join the judiciary, Campbell turned it down on the advice of Roy Jenkins, an old friend.

“He said, ‘I could have been editor of the Economist, but I turned it down, and two months later I was shadow Home Secretary.’ At the time there was a lot of talk that in the event of a coalition after the 1997 election, Tony Blair would ask me to join the cabinet. Of course, Labour won a 160 seat majority – shows how much Roy Jenkins knew!”

His tenure as leader of Lib Dems also came at the wrong time; “It is my greatest regret that I was never able to fight an election,” he says. “After Gordon Brown’s announcement, no matter how many standing ovations I recieved, I would walk off the stage and waiting in the wings would be [a journalist]asking me about the leadership.”

After a time, he felt he couldn’t continue. There is little of the expected bitterness, however; Campbell offers only one good-natured jibe: “I have many friends in Labour,” he says at one point, “and even one or two in the Liberal Democrats.”

In spite of what some may see as the betrayal he suffered at the hands of his party, his committment to its values are unshakable. It is a curious quality of Lib Dems that when asked why they chose to follow a third party with little chance of electoral victory, most respond in the same terms as Sir Menzies – the same response he would give Roy Jenkins when a friendly meal degenerated into furious demands as to “Why the hell aren’t you in the Labour Party?”

“I’m a liberal,” says Campbell.

An audience with a figure of such a level of dignity, conviction and intelligence unsurprising leaves one questioning why men like himself – the Robin Cooks, Ken Clarkes, Vince Cables – get such short shrift in our political system. “Being the leader isn’t the only game in town,” Sir Menzies responds; citing the political freedom one has as an MP, he offers a defence of the importance of Parliament as the last word. “There is no feeling like hearing the presiding officer say your name followed by the words ‘...is duly elected Member of Parliament for...’ It brings a tear to the eye.”