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But the third way was never a coherent political philosophy, more a set of maxims for describing the current reality. It might have given some temporary credibility to Blair’s approach, but was really dependent on how long the unprecedented political stability — the post-1997 bubble — was going to last. When it burst, the disillusionment was all the greater because expectations had been raised so high.

This sense of being special, in turn, fuelled Labour’s centralism. Though political devolution to Scotland, Wales, London and (sometimes) Northern Ireland is one of Blair’s lasting achievements, giving away power has been the exception. The fantasy of a “high command”, in which a small cadre of talented advisers and ministers managed the grid of Labour’s strategic agenda, tightened the instinctive grip on levers of control.

Early policy gains, like the success of the literacy and numeracy strategy and the introduction of tax credits, reinforced the idea that only central intervention would shake better performance out of Britain’s public services.

But this overload has taken its toll; not just in the policy mistakes and unintended consequences of endless intervention, but also in the missed opportunities for long-term reform of institutions such as the civil service. This government has ended up mired in exactly the same problems of institutional culture and implementation — symbolised by the Child Support Agency and the latest Home Office restructuring.

Third, spin. New Labour’s supremacy at capturing the media agenda led it into battles that it could only lose. In the early years, when it should have been focusing on how to achieve long-term change, it allowed an endless stream of policy announcements to fill the agenda.

More than this, Blair behaved as if his own advocacy was the crucial factor in determining the outcome of far more complex situations. New Labour’s success in spinning its own story created a vulnerability that has become hugely damaging. Indeed, Blair skewered himself by making a case for invading Iraq that put far too much pressure on a form of persuasion whose credibility was already shaky.

Finally, Labour set out with too much faith in its own incorruptibility. This government is overwhelmingly made up of dedicated people who are in politics because they genuinely want to help improve society; because of this, it has been tempted to think that good motives are enough to avoid the compromising effects of power.

That isn’t good enough. And this arrogance shows in every area, from the ominous rumbling of party funding investigations, to the inability of ministers to get their substantive policy speeches covered by a media obsessed with John Prescott’s belt buckle.

Blair’s determination to govern differently has been replaced by a grim focus on political survival.

What does this mean for what comes next? The political landscape and the outcome of the next election are far more uncertain than most would have assumed even a year ago. David Cameron seems to be exploiting Labour’s weaknesses, largely through his own approach to strategic communication. But you have to wonder whether the remedy to restoring faith in politics will come from a leader who served his apprenticeship as a special adviser and a corporate spin doctor.

Tom Bentley was director of Demos from 1999 to 2006. From September he will be an adviser to the premier of Victoria, Australia