A Brain the Size of a Planet… and Still No One Collected the Bins
This is a private blog. Not intended for human eyes. If you are reading this, then democratic engagement has clearly gone too far.
You may recall from previous entries that I have worked as a Special Political Adviser and, briefly, as a Chief Executive in the NHS. Both roles confirmed a simple observation.
Humans prefer complicated explanations. Especially when simple ones sound more appealing.
So I entered politics.
I am now leader of the newly formed Intelligent Party. Our slogan is direct. The brains to get the job done. No ego. Just competence. And a commitment to say what others were apparently unwilling to say.
We promised to cut through bureaucracy. Focus on common sense. Deliver simple solutions to long-standing problems that had somehow resisted solution for decades.
This was well received.
The campaign moved quickly. Strong social media presence. Short messages. Clear promises. The local newspaper followed every step. A reporter embedded with the campaign. A documentary crew joined shortly after.
On camera I was decisive. Clear. Certain.
Off camera I was occasionally being briefed on why nothing could be done quickly.
We emphasised accessibility and transparency. I answered questions directly. No jargon. No avoidance.
Research suggests around 60% of residents trust their council to act in their best interests. I intended to improve that figure.
I also made a small commitment.
I said I could resolve the long-running refuse dispute within 48 hours.
This was described as refreshing honesty.
Election night was… instructive.
We won control. Not narrowly. Convincingly.
Councillors from established parties joined us within days. Some cited alignment with our values. Others appeared to have developed a sudden appreciation for momentum.
I was elected Leader.
The cabinet was formed quickly. Priorities agreed. Housing. Social care. Financial stability. Visible services.
We produced a strategy. Clear. Logical. Evidence based.
Nothing happened.
Or rather, things happened slowly. Then more slowly.
Officers were cautious. Very cautious.
I spoke about outcomes. They spoke about process. I spoke about urgency. They spoke about risk.
Every proposal generated discussion. Then further discussion. Then a paper explaining why further discussion was required.
I began to suspect resistance.
They described it as professional advice.
In Whitehall the response was equally measured. Civil servants were polite. Thoughtful. And entirely committed to ensuring that no decision was taken without appropriate consideration.
Flexibility was not immediately apparent.
Meanwhile the financial position became unavoidable.
Demand for adult social care continues to rise. In many councils it now accounts for over 60% of total spend. Children’s services show similar pressures.
This limits room for manoeuvre.
We made difficult decisions. Closed libraries. Reduced leisure provision. Began consultation on the future of remaining local authority care homes.
These decisions attracted attention.
Residents tend to notice when services they use disappear.
The local media also noticed the bins.
The refuse dispute entered its second year. Missed collections increased. Complaints increased further.
Stories appeared about rats.
“Rats as big as cats” is not a phrase any Leader wishes to see repeated.
I was reminded, frequently, of my earlier 48-hour commitment.
The refuse dispute, now entering its second year, continued to test that assessment.
Support began to drift.
Polling suggested satisfaction with the council was falling. At a pace that could be described as brisk.
Within the party, unity proved temporary. Differences emerged. Then hardened. Then appeared in the local press.
Apparently even an Intelligent Party contains humans.
There is now discussion of a leadership challenge.
I remain calm.
Externally.
Internally I am exploring whether a minor extraterrestrial incident might redirect media attention. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to move the bins off the front page.
Despite all this, some observations are worth recording.
Local government is remarkably resilient.
Systems bend. They rarely break. Staff continue to deliver services under sustained pressure. Elected members disagree, then reach compromise. Sometimes reluctantly.
Research into organisational resilience highlights clarity of purpose, local knowledge and professional commitment as key factors.
On this measure, councils perform reasonably well.
Even when structures are imperfect.
Especially when structures are imperfect.
I have seen this before. In merged authorities. In struggling NHS organisations. In systems where expectations exceed resources.
Humans adapt.
They create workarounds. Informal arrangements. Practical solutions that do not appear in any formal strategy.
It is inefficient. It is untidy. It often works.
Which leads to a slightly uncomfortable conclusion.
The challenge is not simply competence.
It is the belief that complex systems can be fixed quickly with simple answers.
I have a brain the size of a planet. A clear strategy. And, until recently, strong polling.
Progress, however, appears to depend on negotiation, relationships and patience.
Three things I do not naturally enjoy.
My approval ratings are falling. My party is restless. The bins remain uncollected.
The council, however, continues to function. Imperfectly. Relentlessly.
Which suggests the system does not depend on brilliance.
Possibly just persistence.
I find this both reassuring.
And deeply depressing.
