Paul Thomas: 'Political earthquake' may be all talk and no walk

A fortnight ago, few knew his name or what he looked like. He was a white male with the usual number of eyes and nostrils, but that was as much as people could agree on.

Today, he's the most popular British politician since Winston Churchill, and his party - for years the risible "third force" in Britain's politics - is neck and neck with Labour and the Conservative Party, who have run Britain on a turn and turnabout basis since the 1920s.

So how did Liberal Democrat leader Nick Clegg, a 43-year-old beneficiary of the English class system and product of the European Union bureaucracy, engineer this "political earthquake"? Well, it seems he gave a good account of himself in a televised debate.

Last week, Clegg squared off against Prime Minister Gordon Brown and Tory leader David Cameron in the first of three election debates. Beforehand, he was widely seen as there to make up the numbers, if not actually an annoying distraction from the clash of the heavyweights.

Afterwards, the consensus, backed by opinion polls, was that Clegg had "won". Within days, the Lib Dems had doubled their support and Nick Who was almost as popular as the lion-heart who rallied Britain in her darkest hour, the greatest Englishman of the 20th century.

Regardless of how polished Clegg was and how much sincerity he oozed, it was just a televised talkfest. His performance - I use the word advisedly - was a pointer to only one component of the prime ministerial role: making speeches, giving interviews, taking part in House of Commons debates.

Clegg managed to demonstrate that he'd probably make a reasonable fist of hosting a TV current affairs programme or a fast-moving quiz show.

As for whether he'd make an effective prime minister, we're hardly any the wiser.

In the era of photo opportunities and sound bites, the attributes that make a good campaigner are not necessarily those that make a good leader of the nation and head of the executive branch of government.

The folly of electing candidates who are better at acquiring power than exercising it was demonstrated by former US president Jimmy Carter.

In the process of nearly making a hash of the unlosable post-Watergate presidential race against Gerald Ford, a man supposedly so dumb he couldn't fart and chew gum at the same time, Carter actually warned America he wouldn't be a better president than he was a campaigner.

The same principle - valuing presentation skills more than substance or proven ability - often seems to apply in recruitment. Job interviews increasingly resemble beauty contests, in which the candidates' achievements count for less than their demeanour, particularly their self-confidence.

The key attribute in today's job market is the ability to talk about yourself, glowingly and unblushingly. Not so very long ago this was called skiting. The obvious risk is that you end up hiring someone who's very good at job interviews - blowing their own trumpet - but can't actually do the job.

Leaving aside the outcome, it was disconcerting to hear the scuttlebutt, following the decision to reappoint Graham Henry after the 2007 World Cup, that Robbie Deans had "interviewed poorly".

The Aussies were presumably less bothered by the amateurishness of his Powerpoint presentation. Likewise, before his successful five-year stint as coach of India, John Wright was rejected by New Zealand Cricket on the basis of a fuzzy teleconference interview.

Another manifestation of this phenomenon is the rush to confer celebrity upon, and treat as people of distinction, individuals whose only demonstrated ability is reading an autocue while frowning or smiling, depending on whether the particular news item concerns something catastrophic happening to poor people in a faraway place or a skateboarding chimp.

This isn't entirely new. For many years the most trusted man in America, according to the polls, was Walter Cronkite, who anchored the CBS evening news.

It remains to be seen whether Clegg is "the biggest load of media-driven nonsense since the funeral of Diana" - Tory Mayor of London Boris Johnson's view - or a British Barack Obama, as some others are calling him.

(It's been said of Obama that he rose without trace, but he campaigned for the best part of three years, won numerous primaries and took part in an endless round of debates, thereby giving the electorate a very good look at him. The British election campaign lasts a month.)

Just for the record, within a few months of Churchill's approval rating peaking at 83 per cent at the end of World War II, the electorate that had given him that resounding vote of confidence and booted him out of office.