Hard sell of a ham actor

The Sufis came to the fore in the Middle Ages, part of a revival in the theology and devotion of Islam. Nowadays, of course, Islam gets a bad press in the West. The public spotlight is usually on its harsher side, its hands-cut-off-for-thieving and lugs-lopped-off-for-overhearing aspect (though Christianity has done its fair share of chopping, torching, and gouging in the name of the Lord).

The high culture of Islam was a brilliant achievement. The Sufis developed a mystical theology and practice which was sublime, sophisticated, and inclusive. They also, apparently, developed a psychology of the personality which was picked up early this century by that Georgian genius-cum-charlatan, George Ivanovich Gurdjieff. Eventually, the teaching was encountered by American Jesuits and is now widely used in America and Britain as a tool for spiritual direction.

The system is called the Enneagram. In its modern form, it presents nine personality patterns arranged in a diagram as points around a circle. Each number, or point, represents a root ''addiction'' which defines the shape of the personality.

I am, by nature, sceptical about such things, but what astonished me was the uncanny accuracy with which it described several people I know. My eye was drawn to the description of the Number Three personality, known as ''The Performer''. Number Threes are popular go-getters, leaders of teams. Their addiction is success, and they get things done. They project an attractive image, and have very sensitive antennae. They can walk into a room, sense the atmosphere immediately, and pitch their words perfectly.

The trouble with Threes, when they move to the unhealthy end of their personality spectrum, is that they can become deceitful. They are brilliant at reflecting back to their hearers what they want to hear in the first place. Threes adjust their convictions and language to suit the audience. Not only do they deceive others, but they deceive themselves. They are salesmen and women, selling themselves along with their product.

The more I studied, the more it dawned on me that I was reading a description of our prime minister. At the age of 45, the Blessed Tony has the world at his feet. He is feted wherever he goes, and he has pulled off a stunning result in the Northern Ireland peace agreement, showing that he is a man of substance and detail as well as image.

It is too simple to see Blair as a Tory with attitude. Radical constitutional reform, a Freedom of Information Act, signing up to the Social Chapter, and the introduction of a minimum wage are not your standard Conservative Party meat-and-drink.

Yet Tony Blair confuses me. My unease deepened at the time of Diana's death. Blair has been lauded for saying the right things, for catching the mood of the nation. Let me make a personal minority confession: the prime minister's performance made me cringe, as did his theatrical reading at the funeral service. I glimpsed, I think, a ham actor at work.

It's too simple to say that he was insincere, but it is easy for self-deception to flow into a wider deception with which a needy public colludes. All that populist guff about ''the people's princess'' and the people's everything else, and all the warm-wordy feely-touchy pseudo-therapeutic language that goes with it, is simply blethering.

Like all extreme Threes on the Enneagramatical scale, Blair is a chameleon. He can change to suit the audience. He has the populist knack of sending an audience of disparate people away home believing that he has addressed all their concerns. That ability was presumably effective in brokering the Northern Ireland deal.

Charisma, which the prime minister undoubtedly has, can easily move into mesmerising manipulation. Tony Blair is a telegenic salesman who believes in his product - even though that product changes from year to year. Look at him on the platform - the messianic eyes blazing with sincerity, the evangelical passion coming out of every pore. Trust me, is the message, and I will lead you to the promised land, where the lion will lie down with the lamb, where Rupert Murdoch will snuggle up with Tony Benn, and all things shall be well and all manner of things shall be well. Tony Blair is a cross between a world statesman and a double-glazing salesman, an intriguing mix of Bill Clinton and Billy Graham.

Private Eye has, as usual, got it right in its regular portrayal of the prime minister as a positive-thinking, feel-good, guitar-playing, happy-clappy vicar of St Albion's, with Peter Mandelson as churchwarden and Gordon Brown as parish treasurer.

Yet Blair has genuine reforming instincts and, as a good Number Three, he will deliver what he promises. He has it in him to become a great prime minister. That will happen only if he gets beyond image and makes genuinely tough decisions which risk turning friends into enemies. For instance, it is unrealistic to talk about justice for all without taking on the redistribution of wealth.

Blair needs people around him who will help him call his own inner bluff. The danger point for any Three comes when the successful image is confused with reality. If he inhales his own heady self-publicity then he risks losing his soul, even - and he will recognise the allusion - as he gains the whole world. Redemption for a Three, according to the Enneagram, comes when he or she breaks the image addiction, eschews fake emotion, and risks unpopularity.

Let's hear it for the Sufis. To understand the post-modern political scene, we maybe need a grip of medieval mystical psychology every bit as much as the apparently cool and rational, but actually voodoo-ridden, political pseudo-science.