 on his Stanford alumnus page. I write only half in jest. True, the PM's confession that his addiction to the soft drink has left him with seven fillings is hardly salacious. But it is intriguing nonetheless that he is so fascinated with a brand whose success has far more to do with clever marketing than the content of its product. So much so that, when the company improved its recipe in 1985, there was such a backlash that it was pulled from the shelves. People were drawn to the brand because of what it represented; Coca-Cola was the end of history in carbonated form. It embodied the undefinable saccharine buzz of hyper-globalisation; it stood for a Western consumer nirvana so perfect it required no further improvements. Is that what Sunak intends for his Government: a Coca-Cola administration based more on branding than substance, marketing the comforts of continuity rather than the urgent need for change? To be fair, such an approach has served him well to date. Despite being a Thatcherite and an ardent Brexiteer, he won over his party's centrists by promising to take British politics back to the supposedly halcyon days of competence and moderation before the UK left the EU. His reputation for being sensible has proved so formidable that he has already overtaken Keir Starmer on key polling metrics, including his perceived ability to handle the economy. Indeed, some might argue that, in these uncertain times, Brand Rishi, with its slick Instagram videos, depicting him as a tireless millennial worker with highlighters at the ready and a Disney Prince grin, is all that is needed to reassure a public grown tired of chaos. The videos, crafted by his hipsterish digital branding guru, Cass Horowitz, are devoid of){kind=link}
The public won’t put up forever with the mere aura of competence when the system is utterly broken
Nothing should strike fear into the heart of the nation quite like the revelation that its new Prime Minister has a fixation with Coca-Cola. Rishi Sunak listed the history of the US multinational among his main interests (along with Star Wars and Southampton FC) on his Stanford alumnus page.
I write only half in jest. True, the PM’s confession that his addiction to the soft drink has left him with seven fillings is hardly salacious. But it is intriguing nonetheless that he is so fascinated with a brand whose success has far more to do with clever marketing than the content of its product. So much so that, when the company improved its recipe in 1985, there was such a backlash that it was pulled from the shelves. People were drawn to the brand because of what it represented; Coca-Cola was the end of history in carbonated form. It embodied the undefinable saccharine buzz of hyper-globalisation; it stood for a Western consumer nirvana so perfect it required no further improvements.
Is that what Sunak intends for his Government: a Coca-Cola administration based more on branding than substance, marketing the comforts of continuity rather than the urgent need for change? To be fair, such an approach has served him well to date. Despite being a Thatcherite and an ardent Brexiteer, he won over his party’s centrists by promising to take British politics back to the supposedly halcyon days of competence and moderation before the UK left the EU. His reputation for being sensible has proved so formidable that he has already overtaken Keir Starmer on key polling metrics, including his perceived ability to handle the economy.
Indeed, some might argue that, in these uncertain times, Brand Rishi, with its slick Instagram videos, depicting him as a tireless millennial worker with highlighters at the ready and a Disney Prince grin, is all that is needed to reassure a public grown tired of chaos. The videos, crafted by his hipsterish digital branding guru, Cass Horowitz, are devoid of policy: the aim is to sell the public an image that is nutritious rather than exciting, celebrating the PM as a problem-solver rather than a visionary. Rishi the Fixer may be quite the departure from Just-Call-Me-Tony, who exuded the unstuffy confidence of Cool Britannia, or the Iron Lady, who symbolised the resolve of the Cold War West, but the hope in No 10 must be that it is the right message for the times nevertheless.