An ex-prime minister without a cause?

Slowly, and not all that surely, the rehabilitation of Gordon Brown is underway. But is this an ex-prime minister without a cause?

Yesterday the former prime minister appeared in front of the Commons international development select committee for two, very long, hours. Let's not pretend: we all wanted to see him to metaphorically set straight all those critics who had dismissed him as a mendacious, scheming and socially disastrous prime minister. Or at the very least drive his fist through a table in a fit of impossible-to-contain rage.

Instead, less excitingly but far more worthily, we heard the former prime minister – who appeared before the committee at his own request – offer a critique of the "lost decade for development" through incredibly lengthy, fact-heavy, and largely punctuation-free answers.

This did not make for great entertainment, but as Brown's labyrinthine answers spewed forth, his questioners like so many of early political opponents, descended into glassy-eyed silence. At times he resembled the man he used to be before things began to go badly wrong: a chancellor at ease when answering an array of complex questions in a language not designed for those of an inferior intellect.

But more frequently than not the now Labour backbencher looked exactly like what he is: an ex-prime minister in search of a new identity. An attending ear-pieced security goon offered a clue that the man in the witness’ chair used to be a 'somebody', but the contrast to Tony Blair's select committee appearances as former PM - all perma-tan, power-struts, and drooling Labour committee members - was brutal. This is an ex-prime minister without a cause.

Brown was slumped so far into his suit that his neck and shirt collar vanished from view, while the fingernails have also yet to recover since May. The aroma of awkwardness almost choking. His flesh may no longer be "literally dripping off him", as one Downing Street visitor over-excitedly reported during Brown's darkest times in office, but the ghosts of those days don't appear to have been exorcised. Brown looked anything but at ease.

The chairman, Malcolm Bruce, seemed to sense his discomfort. "I normally ask witnesses to introduce themselves. This time that won’t be necessary", he announced by way of welcome. But Brown's brief moment of happiness was spoiled as Conservative backbencher Chris White prayed on his discomfort, asking the ex-PM why it took him so long to speak before the House. The question left Brown looking sad, rather than angry.

"Let's not get into this in any detail because it's a diversion from what we're doing, and I think it's unfortunate that this is the sort of question that is the first question to this committee from a member", he replied to White, before insisting that he has been hard at work in his constituency. White offered Brown a thin smile; he received a positively anorexic return effort from the former prime minister.

Brown must have wondered if even this normally mild-mannered committee was a safe launchpad for his reinvention. Richard Harrington tried to lift his spirits: "Mr Brown, you're very welcome here" he declared, straying dangerously close to patronising the man who was formerly the most powerful in Britain. White looked unimpressed.

But after the best part of an hour a stride of sorts was found, as Brown's gloomy prospectus and meandering answers sent the room into a stupor. He then called on people to "think of themselves as citizens of the world" and to "contribute together." Bruce looked delighted. "I can’t imagine an America politician saying what you’re saying." At last, Brown gave the committee a hint of bitterness for the crowd to feast on. "I said it to Congress", recalled Brown. "It certainly didn’t get great applause." The preacher in Brown had briefly emerged; more of that and he may have proved a more popular PM.

The shackles briefly loosened. Asked by Pauline Latham about the dangers of African dictators staying too long in office, the witness replied. "It is difficult for us to say, when sometimes in our countries people serve long terms, that there should be a limit on the terms". And then, the twist of the knife: "The real issue is keeping promises."

The ghost of Tony Blair clearly sits by Brown's side. And it is not the only one. The rehabilitation has a long, long way to go.

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