Another good idea let down by neglect Governments are often said to have a "defining" policy, a particular item of their programme that reveals something bigger and broader about them. But we usually flatter our rulers by citing a measure that captures what they are trying to do. In fact, a policy only truly defines its authors if it embodies their pathologies as well as their aspirations, their flaws as well as their virtues. For Tony Blair and Gordon Brown, former UK prime ministers, it was tax credits. These redistributive payments eased hardship and made many lives better, while also costing a huge amount and giving rise to an impenetrable bureaucracy. In its generosity to the poor, but also its complexity and costliness, the policy was typical New Labour. The Conservatives who lead this government assume they are defined by fiscal austerity, but it does not actually reflect their most fervent convictions. After all, David Cameron and George Osborne were happy to go along with Labour's munificence until 2009, when the collapse of the public finances forced the political class to commit to some measure of cuts. Alternatively, Tories increasingly like to think they are defined by Michael Gove's education reforms, but this is not quite correct either. Choice and competition among schools reflect Conservative principles surely enough but the policy is being implemented with too much vigour and discipline to typify a government that is more often slapdash and complacent. No, this government's defining policy comes to life on November 15, when voters elect police commissioners to oversee their local constabulary. The idea is to increase the accountability of the public service least touched by reform over the years. Ministers believe that the crimes that trouble voters most - the supposedly low-level blights of vandalism, burglary and antisocial behaviour - are not always taken seriously by police. Denis O'Connor, who retired as chief inspector of constabulary over the summer, agrees. The prime minister hopes that people power will correct this. Commissioners will be able to set constabulary budgets, determine local policing priorities and even fire chief constables. The idea is authentic Cameron. Long before austerity, in his early years as Tory leader, he espoused a different vision of government: not so much smaller as looser and less centralised. He insisted on the distinction between society and the state, and defined himself not against debt but dirigisme. So came the idea of allowing voters to elect their police chiefs, as well as to set up their own schools and enjoy access to unprecedented amounts of government data. Although this zeal for giving power away was felt most fervently by Steve Hilton, then Mr Cameron's closest adviser, it was shared by the Tory leader himself. In the 2010 general election campaign, the Big Society became a bad slogan for a promising set of ideas, most of which have survived in government. The plan for elected commissioners reveals another truth about the prime minister. For a politician who is outwardly consensual to the point of blandness, he shows a willingness to pick fights with vested interests that is both admirable and foolhardy. Teaching unions, health professionals and many charities are already ranged against his government. Recently augmenting their number is the police. The resignation of Andrew Mitchell as chief whip over a row with Downing Street police guards was a peripheral skirmish in the larger struggle between reforming ministers and wary officers. Planned changes to police pay and conditions are the primary casus belli but chief constables also curse commissioners as a populist incursion into their fiefdoms. The magisterial disdain for the idea shown by Sir Ian Blair, the former chief of the Metropolitan Police who is urging people not to vote on November 15, is something to behold. There are always public sector grandees with an unshakeable belief that their profession is fine as it is, and Sir Ian is a classic of the genre. The public may not agree, but his yearning for a low turnout looks likely to be met anyway. For if the commissioners policy captures this government's desire to shake up perhaps the most centralised state in the west, it also encapsulates its sloppy, halfhearted approach to implementing that vision. The fact that the elections are being held in November, a chilly death zone for electoral turnout, is bad enough. But the government has also failed to cultivate impressive candidates, leaving the field dominated by familiar and uninspiring faces from party politics. Mr Cameron has not acted as a salesman for the policy. All this evokes the government's attempt to install elected mayors in 12 big cities outside London. Sheer neglect ensured the idea never stood a chance; mayors were rejected by nine cities in referendums last May. It is still possible that commissioners will, over time, become mighty fixtures of public life. Crime is an enormous frustration for voters and compelling candidates will come forward if they can see that the office carries weight. However, the botched launch of the idea is all too typical. This government's wish to remake the British state is largely commendable. Its tenacity in seeing it through is too often lamentable.