the politics of the thumb

Rumours of Ed Miliband's slaying of New Labour appear to be exaggerated. He has, I noticed this week, adopted the 'Blairite thumb-press', also favoured by his brother.

The thumb-press is a straight-forward mode of manual expression, in  which the user makes a traditional fist, but then manoeuvres the thumb from its position clasped over (or under the fingers) and lays it gently on top of the index finger as a hint of  diplomacy. So easy is the thumb-press, in fact, that lay-members of the public are welcome to use it in every day convesations - but they will experience the bizarre sensation of having morphed into a New Labour politician. Used at a dinner party, it may result in shoulders being turned and mutterings to the effect that "I prefer not to talk about politics, thankyou very much". As Wittgenstein would have been keen to note, were one to say the words "look - the bus is coming", while gesturing with the thumb-press, the listener would assume that one were claiming credit for having invested more money in public transport.

The gesture is usually performed with one hand at a time, in order to push a particular point at one's opponent or inquisitor, as depicted above. However, in emergencies it can be used with both hands at once, though the user may then appear to be trying to control some imaginary jetpack with twin joysticks (or perhaps playing an invisible Nintendo Wii), as depicted below.

Consider, if you will, the phsyical etymology or genealogy of the thumb press. I suspect that it's ancestry is three-fold. Firstly, it contains traces of optimism and benevolence, that we're told all politicians must now trade in. In our culture, the thumb has very few malign or aggressive connotations. When pointed upwards, it indicates approval and goodwill. Even when pointed downwards, it only expresses a negative preference of some kind, but never ill-will. The thumb sits there, as evidence of a better future to come, a more competitive economy, more money in your pocket, better schools, more police on the beat... in fact as soon as one adopts the thumb press, verbs start to evaporate into a puff of Blairite smoke.

Secondly, the thumb-press contains traces of its parent, the fist. This indicates that the user is not to be messed with, no matter how pleasant their thumb may appear. Plato argued that in the ideal system of government, the military must sit directly below the philosophers, so as to back wisdom with force. To the same end, in Blair's ideal system of government, the fist must sit directly below the thumb. Without the thumb, the fist is merely aggressive; but without the fist, the thumb looks vulnerable and naive. Blair eventually found less metaphorical ways of demonstrating that he was not to be messed with, but for the time being, Miliband would do well to keep those fingers clenched.

Finally, the flattened thumb performs an important role as an icon of Blairite government, mimicking the gesture that one performs when passing through biometrically-equipped passport controls in airports. "If you could just place your thumb on the scanner, please sir, and stare into the camera..." Like the street kids wearing no belts out of respect for their brothers in prison, or the communist leaders dressed like industrial proles, Blair performed the thumb-press out of ritualistic solidarity with the individual passing through a securitised, post-911 border. When else does one see a thumb pressed firmly downwards like that?

Crucially, the thumb-press prevents the user from having to adopt any more violent or badly connoted alternatives, such as the finger-point, which reveals the user to have a background in the trade union movement, as seen to the right. The thumb-press may, indeed, have evolved from early non-unionised attempts to point with the thumb as an alternative to the finger; but the gesture appears too vague, and eventually sought support from the fist. It also avoids too much flailing around of hands, which when too animated can start to seem a little over-performative, or even, well, Hitler-ish.

New Labour had its own means of dampening the latter, which was to gesture towards the inquisitor with the face of one's wrist-watch. Blair was a master of this strangely defensive gesture, which acts to nudge a barrier gradually away from one's  self. It often resembles a cricket coach demonstrating a perfect forward defensive stroke, but without a bat in his hand. Yet, in more expansive moments, it can turn into something more approaching a Pietersen-esque pull shot or even a switch-hit, as performed by Mr Miliband below:

Again, Herr Wittgenstein might wonder about the consequences of using this gesture in everyday situations. Imagine, for example, an estate agent showing off a house to a potential buyer, and using the face of their wrist watch to gesture at the full glory of the "natural light afforded by this south facing window!" I suspect that the buyers would be half expecting the estate agent to be eyeing their prospective living-room as potential Lebensraum for his own family. But he would at least have kept his thumb in the air, holding out the possibility of a peaceful resolution.

Comments

[Ben]

Michael Gove was at it with the thumb press too on Question Time last week. It, frankly, looks odd and contrived.

[Michael]

Obama does this a lot, except he also extends his index finger forward a tiny bit like he is holding a small piece of paper that he wants to give to you. I wonder what the paper says.

[Dick Pountain]

Will - of course it could be miming a garotte or dental floss (a revenge/hygiene motif)

[cecil ballantine]

We'd better all sit on our hands then!

[Jamie]

Brilliant.

[Ian C]

Political hand gestures aren't what they used to be. I think the benchmark remains the virtuoso technique of Roy Jenkins, whose characteristic gesture has been likened to a man gently stroking the breast of a maiden.

Those were the days.