Politics is a gamble and Boris’ bluff has been called

Boris Johnson rose to the top of British politics because he stood out as an exception. He was a charismatic devil-may-care elitist and well-known television personality in a crowd of grey drudges, all of who insist piously that they are intent on serving voters rather than looking out for themselves.

There is no doubting that Johnson’s boldness sets him apart. Even in the disgrace of his ousting from Number Ten, he has brow-beaten the establishment into letting him stay on as caretaker Prime Minister for a final party at Chequers. 

But Boris Johnson has more in common with his fellow politicians than may appear at first glance. That at least occurs to me after taking part in a discussion on what makes our politicians tick with the psychotherapist Lucy Beresford for her new podcast series for Reaction, On The Couch.

I spent nearly 40 years as a political journalist, knocking around with politicians in their natural habitats but always as a bemused outside observer. I have had plenty of time to ponder why people want to be MPs — a bizarre and potentially dangerous aspiration, in my personal view. 

To start with the positive. I admire almost all politicians. They sincerely want to work to make the world a better place. They have a sense of duty and a desire to serve civil society. 

Since journalism is one of the few occupations where something being boring is a good reason not to do it, I have always been impressed by politicians’ high boredom threshold. They sit through endless repetitive committee meetings, wading through mounds of dry documents and are unselfishly interested in sorting out the troubles of other people. 

The big reward for an MP is status. Political life is built around hierarchies — leaders, chairs, whips, ministers and shadows. Honourable members are set apart with those letters after their names. If they do well they might get to be “Right Honourable” or Lords and Ladies. Their status gives them the right to be heard and priority access to monitor rival centres of power. 

Boris Johnson is a chancer, a man who has built his life and career by pushing opportunities and the truth to the limits. One of his favourite bon mots is; “There are no disasters, only opportunities. And, indeed, opportunities for fresh disasters.” This may sound wild but all MPs are really fellow gamblers. 

Johnson is one of many MPs who achieved his position by persistence. He followed the common path of cutting his teeth by standing in an unwinnable seat — in Wales, in his case. He has also represented different constituencies; Henley-on-Thames, before becoming London mayor and currently marginal Uxbridge.

Most people lead their lives with each development built on the last. There is a ladder of achievement before them which they choose to climb to the best of their abilities. MPs put their fate in the hands of others including where they live and what they do, with the chance of a total capsize every electoral cycle.

They have to be selected by local parties and then win elections in their constituency, all the time watching their backs for attacks from rival activists. Once they make it to parliament, they can only become ministers if their party happens to be in power.

Even then getting a job depends on being in with the right clique for preferment. Johnson’s habitual dishonesty is in part a perverted offshoot of what every ambitious member must pull off in supporting a slate of policies, regardless of their private opinions. They all need a thick skin to brush off criticism. 

Not all MPs are the same. Each one can be plotted at a point on a graph where the y (or “Why?”) axis is public service or duty and the x-axis is self-aggrandisement. Boris Johnson is simply at one extreme. The lifelong wannabe “World King”, is far out on the horizontal of serving himself and ground zero on the vertical of serving others.

He had the drive and cunning to reach the summit but no idea what to do once he got there other than to stay on top, ultimately unsuccessfully. Keir Starmer is at the other extreme. He lacks panache but is bursting with dutifulness.

This brings us to risk-taking and scandal. Of late, parliament seems to have witnessed more bad behaviour than other workplaces of equivalent size. According to the father of the house, Sir Peter Bottomley, there is also more temptation around than when he was elected. Hordes of eager young people who want to work for MPs and lobbyists queuing up to ply them with drinks.

Be that as it may, it is difficult to imagine half a dozen lawyers in a legal firm or six doctors at a hospital all simultaneously mired in sexual abuse allegations. But MPs who gamble habitually with their long-term futures are likely to enjoy the short-term thrill of risk-taking, to see what their self-important elevated status lets them get away with.

Lucy Beresford wondered if there was any truth in the cliché that Conservatives tend to get into trouble over sex and Labour members over money. Up to a point, in recent years all parties, left, right, centre and nationalist have had a splash of both types of scandal.

But a politician is most likely to be caught out and denounced when they go against the advertised moral values of their tribe. Getting rich is a matter of pride for many Conservatives, who tend to have a number of millionaires in their Cabinets. 

On the other hand, the idea that money is the root of all evil is embedded somewhere in the socialist DNA. Conversely, the public face of Conservatism has historically been prudish and small “c” conservative while the left is more small “l” liberal. The first Labour MPs were coming out of the closet while the Conservative Party was pushing Section 28 against the teaching of the fact of homosexuality. 

Conservatism is not troubled by the notion of master and servant. Its adherents are inclined to defer to the leader and to take a lead from him or her. Events suggest that Boris Johnson’s lax attitude in his own behaviour gave licence and even encouraged his underlings to copy him or to do worse — in the precincts of Downing Street and in the Carlton Club.

Once exposed risk-taking and over-indulgence have had the repercussions now shaking Britain’s polity. Ironically, Conservative philosophers are those most inclined to bemoan that indiscipline begets disorder and chaos. A point made repeatedly, without a chuckle, by the 59 resignees from Johnson’s patronage.  

In their choice of their next leader, it seems likely that the Conservatives will not opt for someone on an extreme edge of the graph. Not one of the potential candidates identified so far is as flamboyant as Boris Johnson, or as unexciting as Starmer. The next Prime Minister will be closer to the 45-degree x=y line on the graph. Probably.

Still, with these gambler politicians, you can never be sure.