Designated Driver

There’s a stereotype about male drivers that they would rather drive twenty miles in the wrong direction than stop and check a map. Broadly speaking, this is what happened in the UK General Election. Despite the fact that there is considerable evidence that a majority of the electorate believes that the Brexit referendum came to the wrong decision (neither a “stonking” majority, nor a “thumping” one, but a majority nonetheless) UK voters made the net decision to drive on down the road in the hope that they would either locate a convenient and well-signposted junction on which to change direction or, better, would discover that they were on the right road all along.

What this means is that the issue of Brexit has been settled for a generation. (That's about eighteen months if you live North of the border.) What will they all argue about now?

It seems that the Labour Party is going to be riven (at least for the three months that it will take them to coalesce jubilantly around a new leader) by the question of what is to blame for its ignominious defeat. The analysis from the Left (for how could it be otherwise) is that the party was effectively run down in the street: it had been minding its own business, embracing ideals that were being warmly endorsed by the population in general, when it was brutally mown down by the issue of Brexit.

Labour Centrists, on the other hand, argue that holding a Marxist rally in middle of the South Circular was asking for trouble in the first place. A muddled message on Brexit was as nothing to the suspicion with which Corbyn himself was viewed by “traditional Labour voters”.

There’s room for both sides to be correct.

The sunny days of Corbyn’s Indian Summer, when he gambolled at festivals in the company of gaggles of doe-eyed supporters, seemed already long past when this election was called. He had done little enough to earn their adulation in the first place and little enough to estrange it in the last two years. It was just gone.

Certainly there was still enthusiasm for Corbyn, but it was the grim resolve of Jonestown rather than the febrile tunnel vision of a popular mass movement. The “Youthquake” had moved on to Extinction Rebellion with a more direct means of expression than the quiet anonymity of the ballot box.

Boris’s advantage was not that he was easy to like but that he was difficult to hate. Many managed to do so but nowhere near enough. It’s difficult to associate the image of a racist, sexist hard-Right politician with the photo ops that he gave in a fishmarket or delivering milk. Boris’s lies were legion, but they appeared, somehow, to be little white lies.

Corbyn’s truths were also legion, but they were great big scary truths full of class envy & social division. There was much in them with which voters widely sympathise, but ideals such as Corbyn’s are perhaps best viewed through the prism of a more pragmatic leader.

Finally, a word about Jo Swinson, the “blink and you missed her” leader of the Liberal Democrats. She has never appeared before in these pages as a label, nor is she likely to do so in the future, but there was something bitterly unfair about her constituency defeat. Her candid & straightforward approach to politics was a refreshing alternative to the cynicism of the Right and the fanaticism of the Left. This is one nutshell, however, where the middle of the road is a bad place to be.

Boris Treads The Boards

The Commons (currently of no practical use as a place where the country's laws are written) has reverted to its alternative use as a theatre. When a theatre goes dark it does so in the expectation that a bold new production is in preparation. That is what our freshman Prime Minister managed to deliver yesterday.

As it turns out, we could have all saved ourselves the trouble of learning the word prorogation because The Supreme Court decided that Boris’s attempt to prorogue parliament was void. Consequently Boris was now up before the Beak: dragged back to the Commons to be served with as many of the best as UK MPs could deliver before their arms got tired. And none of them looked like their arms were going to get tired any time soon.

This was make or break for Johnson. His one & only Question Time - during which his bumbling delivery sounded rather clueless in the chamber - had not gone well. That, mind you, was before the highest court in the land had ruled that he had broken the law. Media coverage the day before had depicted this as a humiliating defeat and, worse, the Queen (talismanic to the majority of Conservative voters) had been caught in the crossfire, threatening to divide the government's core supporters. But early notice was given that the show might run as expected when Attorney General Geoffrey Cox gave a surprisingly feisty performance at the matinée. Like or loathe his manner (which is not so much that of a great barrister as that of a ham actor playing a great barrister) Cox steadied the ship, giving the Tories something to cheer about with more heartfelt sincerity than most of them can have thought possible.

The set piece debate that Johnson opened with a statement on the legal ruling was meant to go like this. Opposition MP after MP was lined up to say, again & again, that he had been found to have “mislead the people” by a “unanimous” decision of the court, was “unfit for office” and would, “if he had any shame” resign. This basic template was only varied by the SNP, who mixed in other sentiments in keeping with their nation's long cherished desire for liberty.

None of this needed to be said for the purposes of proceedings in parliament: it was all designed to send a message as many times as possible to television viewers. As such, like so many Commons deliberations, it was all hot air, if rather hotter than usual.

Johnson came back with a debater's trick: the Supreme Court judgement was a sideshow & in his opinion wrong ... the real issue was Brexit. And, surprisingly, it worked. Many opposition MPs, attracted both by the shiny word Brexit and the Prime Minister's gall in criticising the judgement, started responding to his narrative instead of following the agreed script. They were supposed to be furious about one thing ... now they were being furious about something else, or perhaps everything.

Then Johnson unleashed the phrase “Surrender bill” which has been kicking around for a while: it's like a nickname that the unpopular boy at school keeps using in the hope that everyone else will think it's as clever as he does. And, amazingly, the fish bit down hard on this unpromising bait. MP after MP stood up to say that it was quite improper, and probably dangerous, to describe a piece of legislation that had been written into law as a “surrender bill”. At which Boris would neatly reply that it certainly was a surrender bill, or capitulation bill if you prefer. Terms that had never had much currency before were suddenly being used on both sides of the House. And the angrier the Opposition got, the more strident they got while Johnson (after a couple of veiled but unambiguous appeals from the Speaker) dropped into a conciliatory tone, looking reasonable and - it has to be said - rather pleased with himself.

Boris had lost the judgement and won the debate.

Sordel says “won the debate” not “won the argument”. Many people, perhaps most people, will feel that Boris's bad guy act (especially on the subject of Jo Cox) was in poor taste and his thespian artistry was nothing more than Public School playacting, far removed from national concerns of pressing importance. But if this parliament has nothing to legislate - if it is essentially a bear pit in which the most vicious rhetorician prevails - then Boris managed to turn the tables on his opponents. They will consider their strategy more carefully before giving him hours at the despatch box next time.

The opposition emerged bloodied from the encounter: none more so than Jeremy Corbyn, who looked ashen when Nigel Dodds reminded a silent house that the Labour leader's new-found respect for the Rule of Law came too late for judges murdered by the IRA. Politicians who had sued for the right to recall parliament must have ended the day bitterly regretting their victory. As so many disinterested onlookers must do.

If this Boris show is not swiftly shuttered it may run & run.


(Illustration copyright Simon Haynes. Ironically it is reproduced from an article from July 2018 on whether that month would finally see the end of Boris Johnson.)