Johnson the muggle
Bungling, lying and sleaze catch up with Britain’s government
Boris Johnson’s latest missteps are the most serious yet
WHATEVER YOU think of Boris Johnson as a person, you have to admire his political survival skills. To reach the pinnacle of British politics, he weathered exposure as a liar and philanderer, and even humiliation as a Union-Jack twiddling buffoon stuck on a zip-wire. As prime minister, he has overseen a disastrous initial response to the pandemic and an endless series of debilitating rows with the European Union. But his party’s 80-seat majority in Parliament—and a weak opposition prone to infighting—have assured him of being able to get away with almost anything, and of enjoying the constant, if at times reluctant, support of his Conservative Party. This week’s disasters may come to be seen as the moment when that began to change.
No one ever backed Mr Johnson for his moral probity. So he probably thought it did not matter that the issue over which he commanded the acquiescence of all his parliamentary colleagues looked deeply shady. One of his allies, Owen Paterson, a Brexiteer Tory MP, had been found guilty by an independent standards commissioner of bringing Parliament into disrepute with paid lobbying work on behalf of two companies that earned him one and a half times his MP’s salary. A detailed report backed the accusations up with forensic detail. Mr Johnson’s hastily cobbled-together solution to his friend’s plight was to change the rules by setting up a new parliamentary committee to examine how MPs are supervised.
No one ever backed Mr Johnson for his technical competence or grasp of detail. So it probably did not matter that this scheme was half-baked. Despite a revolt by some of his MPs, it passed a parliamentary vote with a majority of 18, though many of those who voted for it did so reluctantly, figuratively holding their noses as they followed Mr Johnson down a drain. But that did not bring it any nearer fruition, as it would in practice need cross-party participation. (Even Mr Johnson may have realised that having Conservative MPs judged only by their party colleagues might have looked a bit off.) But why would the opposition Labour Party sign on to such a scheme? It did not, and the government was forced to backtrack.
No one ever backed Mr Johnson for his loyalty to his friends and supporters. So it probably did not matter that this left those foot-dragging drain-trampers looking not just pro-corruption, anti-integrity and sheeplike, but also rather silly. They felt thrown under the bus. Under the wheels they were joined by Mr Paterson himself, who had just given a far-from-contrite television interview saying of his alleged offence that he “would not hesitate to do it again tomorrow”. But he too found himself jettisoned as expendable after all. He continued to protest his innocence, but resigned from “the cruel world of politics”. He blames the suicide of his wife last year in part on the pressure of the investigation into him.
Everybody knew Mr Johnson’s principles and stands are changeable. The speed and shamelessness of his latest volte-face, however, have strained the tolerance of his foot-soldiers. They also suggest that his own sense of invulnerability—that all he need do is sit tight and wait for the news cycle to turn to the next scandal—may be waning. A year and a half ago he stood by his then-adviser, Dominic Cummings, as he produced what were widely seen as preposterous explanations for apparently flagrant violations of the government’s lockdown rules. When his home secretary, Priti Patel, was last year accused of bullying civil servants, he stood by her. And so on.
Up till now, Mr Johnson has given the impression that rules and normal standards of behaviour do not apply to him and the Praetorian guard of Brexiteer politicians around him. This is at the root of many of the rows with the EU—the belief that if the rules—or a treaty—don’t suit Mr Johnson and his team, then the other side must be browbeaten or exasperated into changing them.
No Conservative politician ever backed Mr Johnson for any reason other than that he is a survivor and a winner—at least of elections. So none of his troubles this week may affect his leadership unless they are seen to affect the lead his party still has in the opinion polls. Many comparisons have been drawn this week—above all by the Labour Party—with the Conservative government of John Major in the 1990s, which was submerged in sleaze. No scandal individually was enough to bring the government down. But cumulatively, their endless succession helped pave the way for 13 years of Labour government.
So the reason so many of Mr Johnson’s MPs are so angry is not just that they have been played for fools, and in some cases voted in ways that genuinely pained their consciences. It is that their inboxes are full of messages from constituents angry that their representatives seem to think rules are for little people. They are beginning to wonder if Mr Johnson has lost his magic touch.■