Boris Johnson gave an example of the classic political apology – a sorry, not sorry
Editorial: It is quite something, even for him, that the prime minister opened his statement to MPs saying, ‘Mr Speaker, I want to apologise...’ and then proceeded to do no such thing
From the point of view of the prime minister himself, his ordeal in parliament went about as well as it could – which is to say that he will probably still be prime minister by the end of the week. Beyond that...
It is quite something, even for him, that the prime minister opened his statement to MPs by saying, “Mr Speaker, I want to apologise...” and then proceeded to do no such thing. It was, indeed, yet another misleading remark made in the chamber.
No one should be shocked. Predictably, the ashen-faced demeanour and the solemn formalities of the apology suggested contrition, but, as usual, they were entirely belied by what Boris Johnson placed in the small print and the parentheses. It was, in short, a non-apology of the classic political variety: sorry not sorry.
Crucially, and absurdly, the prime minister maintains that his behaviour – and indeed the “event”, ie party – was “technically” within the lockdown rules and guidance prevailing at the time. This is absurd.
According to the prime minister’s account, he wandered out into the garden of Downing Street and found himself and Ms Johnson in the midst of some sort of surprise impromptu party – though it’s unclear whether he recognised it as such.
By his account, he was mistaken in hanging around, with Carrie Johnson, for about 25 minutes while he thanked the staff for their sterling service to the nation. Instead – he now supposedly realises after reflecting on the happenings of that sunny May evening – he should have sent them all back into the building.
We might surmise that Mr Johnson now thinks he should have reacted rather as Jesus Christ did when he discovered the money-changers in the temple in Jerusalem – that he should have overturned the trestle tables laden with picnic food and pinot grigio, and, with a whip made of cords, expelled the assorted spads and civil servants. But no cleansing of the garden occurred.
Mr Johnson seems to think the party was just a slightly more relaxed version of a “work event”, involving key workers, and therefore OK under the rules and guidance – which is, at best, a misreading of those rules.
Unfortunately for the prime minister, a quick glance at the email invitation makes it clear that this was a party, not a workshop session; that people were expected to bring their own booze; and that the whole point of it was to be a respite from work, not an extension of it.
Sent on behalf of his principal private secretary, Martin Reynolds, it states: “we thought it would be nice to make the most of this lovely weather and have some socially distanced drinks in the No 10 garden this evening”. The “we” plainly meant Mr Reynolds and Mr Johnson. So it appears that, far from the drinks event being a surprise to him or spontaneous, it was authorised by him in advance.
It was a clear breach of the rules. His subsequent denials, carefully crafted, were intended to mislead parliament and the public, and were a breach of the ministerial code – which is a resignation matter. Mr Johnson’s apology amounted to sympathy for others’ feelings, a wish that “things had happened differently”, and an admission that he had made misjudgements.
He did not admit to (let alone apologise for) breaking the rules and guidance, or that he wasn’t open and transparent with parliament and the people, or that there was anything more than the mistaken perception of one rule for him and one for the rest of the nation. The reality is that the only reason he is sorry is because he got caught.
And so, Mr Johnson retreats once again behind the inquiry being undertaken by the civil servant Sue Gray, and reverts to the formula that nothing can be said or done until she issues her report. In the way of such things, Mr Johnson will be hoping there will be enough wriggle room for him to get away with his actions. If so, he may well find himself disappointed.
Partygate is not the only factor, and Mr Johnson may not survive, even in the unlikely event that Ms Gray completely acquits him.
Quite apart from partygate, Mr Johnson’s leadership has been in trouble for some time. His traditional allies are restive about Brexit – still stubbornly not done – along with the Channel refugee crisis, his green agenda, sluggish economic growth, inflation, gas bills and the cost-of-living crisis, tax hikes, public debt, sleaze, increasing mortgage rates, and the generally chaotic other-worldly state of 10 Downing Street (whence partygate arose).
Some wistfully long for some wise old hand to be placed at Mr Johnson’s side as a deputy or strong chief of staff; but Mr Johnson doesn’t work like that. He is an autocrat by nature, incorrigible, and unsuited to the post. More scandals are inevitable. Some of his cabinet already sense this all too well.
As Tory leader, Mr Johnson has no great fan base, and little in the way of a praetorian guard beyond Nadine Dorries. He is not clubbable or obviously fond of the grassroots. His relationship with his party has been transactional – he wins elections, and in return they let him do what he wants.
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Yet now he is 10 points behind Labour in the polls, and has lost a couple of safe seats in by-elections to the Liberal Democrats, who have re-emerged as ominously as the Rutland ichthyosaur. The May local council elections look particularly dicey, coming straight after the new gas price cap comes in alongside the rise in national insurance contributions.
More to the point, it looks increasingly as if a substantial number of Tory MPs and ministers will be out of a job at the next general election unless someone else takes over and starts, to borrow a phrase, to “build back better” the embattled Conservative Party – it will take time to restore its health.
There seems little point in delaying the inevitable: “If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well it were done quickly.”
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