THERE are certain rites and rituals to the membership of Waco (World Association of Columnists). The most pertinent today is the necessity to use a famous quote to illustrate a point.

The association recommends this should only be done once a year so I am using my dispensation this week. Zhou Enlai, the Chinese politician, was asked in 1972 his views on the historical significance of the French Revolution. He replied: “Too early to say.” Now I don’t know if this happened, the Zhou quote, I mean. I am fairly certain that there was a French Revolution. But I have always been enamoured of its wisdom.

I work in a business that demands instant analysis and posits that every crisis or controversy holds an enduring significance. They don’t.

Once, in another life, I was a journalistic decision-maker. I sat at a desk and decided what was important and what was not. It amuses me now to look back and gauge what was considered of paramount importance then and is no longer even on the fringes of popular thought.

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One example might be the Westland helicopter row. There will be contestants on Only Connect who do know what that was about. The intricacies are lost in time though it was one of the drivers of the usurping of Margaret Thatcher. History has forgotten Westland save for footnotes in political biographies.

Similarly, history can be less than mindful to personalities who seemed to dominate an age. Is it too fanciful to suggest that in 100 years’ time Barack Obama will not be considered a great president? Will he be remembered for what he represented rather that what he achieved?

Will, instead, Lyndon B Johnson be held as one of the most important presidents? He was a man consumed by a war he did not start and sullied by a political graft that was almost his way of life. But he did deliver civil rights, albeit that battle has a considerable way to go.

These musings dominated my thoughts this week in a time of turmoil. I wondered what would the student regard as important or educational in 100 years. There was one answer to hand.

Publication of the diaries of Chips Channon in an unredacted format tells us much of the crises of the 1930s that will not unduly concern many of today’s populace who believe that history offers few lessons and is best left undisturbed.

Yet Channon’s observations and his views are hideously relevant. A Conservative MP, chancer and friend of the powerful, he was in the box seat to witness the abdication of Edward VIII and the appeasement that encouraged and almost ultimately rewarded the diabolical belligerence of Adolf Hitler.

In a splendid review in this newspaper, Alan Taylor observed: "As the diaries progress, a portrait emerges of a society debased by inbreeding, congenital conservatism, spurious entitlement and unearned wealth. Ironically, Channon, its most passionate advocate, offers perhaps the best argument for its demise. Revolutions have been staged with less cause.”

Channon, then, was a cipher for his times. An unremarkable politician, a mediocre intellect, and the morals of an alley cat on Viagra, did not prevent him from being the most acute commentator on his era. This was not to say that he was right. He was on the wrong side of history. He was, ultimately, on the losing side of the important arguments.

But this slight, trivial and superficial figure is important. He presents views that were widely held at the time and could be said to have been popular. He is, unwittingly, a wonderful teacher on the issues, scandals and controversies of the 1930s.

The cult of the column suggests that there are similar practitioners today. The learned, sedate even pedestrian analysis of political and cultural affairs is an art that is largely lost and rarely mourned. There has to be a point. There must be a ‘take’. This does not unduly perturb me. It is the way of the business now and has been for some time.

The commerce of the column has a cruder currency but it still produces wonder, entertainment and enlightenment. Though, obviously, not in this slot.

And it still creates its Chips Channon. The academics of today might posit that the contemporary musings of the learned commentators will be scrutinised in 100 years. Maybe.

I have another thought. The best understanding of the early 21st century – also a time of congenital conservatism, spurious entitlement and unearned wealth – found its most persuasive and authentic voice in someone who craved the embrace of the powerful and had a huff when he was rejected.

Is Piers Morgan the chronicler that this already tawdry century deserves? I once consumed his diaries on a flight to a holiday. They were and are extraordinary.

His access to power was not only largely unrestricted but his counsel was sought by ministers. As the editor of a tabloid newspaper, he had power on a direct dial.

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This was and is troubling. Morgan’s insouciance in proclaiming all of this is, though, deeply informative of our times.

The student of 2121 may find him irresistible. There will be footnotes describing precisely who Simon Cowell was and presumably an appendix for the cultural significance of Ant and Dec. But there will be gentle gasps at how a one-time showbiz reporter became so close to power and how he articulated the biases of a section of the population, helping to shape the national debate.

His lack of substance may, ironically, prove to be a substantial part of our times. History is not always told by the winners. The wastrels also have a say.

Our columns are platforms for writers to express their opinions. They do not necessarily represent the views of The Herald