Blairism came in three phases. First, the boyish smile. Then the cheery grimace. Finally, the clenched face salute. These days, he goes about heavily disguised as a human being. How did the "most successful leader in the history of the British Labour Party" come to this pass, asks Declan Kiberd.
All political careers end in failure, so in one sense his fate is no surprise. But there is something strangely poignant about the decline to a 31 per cent popularity rating of a man whose core principle was to be popular at any cost.
Like Bill Clinton, Tony Blair defined his policies on the basis of findings from "focus groups". Those were representative clusters of actual voters whose preferences were closely studied by PR gurus. Blair's proposals on everything from transport to education were based on whatever the public was having itself.
Many of his early measures were highly sensible. The promotion of public-private partnerships was informed by a thoroughly modern understanding that the introduction of robust business methods could improve many services, from school buildings to road maintenance.
Some of his methods seemed surprisingly draconian for a Labour leader - for example, his rather harsh treatment of immigrant families - but these practices certainly reflected a change in public mood.
Likewise, the decision to make students contribute to the cost of higher education represented not only a roll-back of the welfare state but also, in effect, a return to the Victorian notion that students were still dependants. A cultural contradiction ensued.
Eighteen-year-olds were considered mature enough to vote in elections or bear guns in Iraq, but not to be treated as self-sufficient adults if they wished to be students. Thirty became the new 18.
In the end, Blair brought the "business approach" too far, into areas in which it was simply inappropriate. Education in the UK was reduced in both depth and quality. "Uneconomic" university departments, such as Italian or classics, were often closed down.
Political correctness replaced the old compassionate traditions of the earlier welfare state. Every college and government agency had an office promoting "dignity and respect", but those who worked in it might be let go at any moment and their pension rights and social protections were eroded.
New Labour in government became the model for new public institutions. Behind the outer show of bonhomie and blokeism, rule was by fiat.
Leaders engaged in a pretence of consultation with employees but then went and did what the "kitchen cabinet" dictated. Technicians ruled okay - the average Labour MP, like the average employee, was assumed to be too naive to understand the complex processes of governance.
In all of this, Blair reflected the shallowness of the age back to itself, yet he exuded charm, intelligence, concern. He clearly loved his family. He used words with energy and vivacity. In all probability, he had the decency to doubt at least some of the policies he was forced to introduce in his campaign to out-Thatcher Mrs Thatcher.
His tragedy was that he became a prisoner of those focus groups. Only on overseas issues, about which the British public seemed to care little, was he free to evolve lines of his own. Therein lay the fatal flaw. His staunch identification with the values of the Christian "West" led to the disastrous moment when he supported Bush's crusade in Iraq.
In the spring of 2004, almost two million people massed in the streets of London to oppose that war. What struck me was that many were from Christian peace groups, which earlier would have been Blair's natural base. Even more telling was the fact that the main leaders of the protest were Labour Party activists, the sort who would be needed to knock on doors at election time.
But Blair persisted, even to the extent of supporting the recent campaign against the citizens of Lebanon. One night, just a few weeks ago, more than 100 MPs called for the recall of parliament to debate the issue. The next day, Heathrow and other major airports were put on red alert.
No more was heard from the MPs - until last week. Blair's emotion-driven attempt to cast himself as a second Churchill, astride the global stage, has been his undoing.
Yet he did good, too. Conscious of "the hand of history", and free to innovate in an area not covered by the focus groups, he paid more attention to Ireland than any prime minister since Gladstone. In that, too, he had much in common with Bill Clinton, and their work for peace bore fruit.
But when he finally retires from politics, Tony may rue the day he first heard of Bill's magical focus groups.