Politicians, patriotism, pandemics and the great pub resurrection
The picture that was supposed to grace the front page of newspapers on Tuesday would have featured the Prime Minister “cautiously but irreversibly raising a pint of beer to my lips”.
Boris Johnson had made his choice. When rules are eased on Monday 12th April he indicated that he was not going to have a haircut – carefully dishevelled locks are his trademark. Instead, aides had booked him a place for outdoor service in a pub garden. Now, the trip is cancelled out of respect for Prince Philip, although it seems unlikely the irreverent Duke of Edinburgh would have minded Boris Johnson having a pint.
Pubs and pubmanship have played a big part in public debate during the pandemic, despite people having more important things to think about, such as not dying or falling seriously ill. Yet, from Tim Martin of Wetherspoons resisting closure early last year by drawing on his epidemiological expertise to insist you couldn’t catch it in a pub, to the agonising over passports for pubs now, “going to the pub” has been treated as “an inalienable right”, in the words of the Johnson pere et fils.
In practice when pubs were open, less than 30 per cent exercised their right to visit pubs at least once a week. Just over 50 per cent went for a drink at some point during the year, peaking with 25 to 44 year olds and dropping off sharply among the over sixties. “Proper” pubs have fallen into disuse and have closed at a steady rate for decades. The trade estimates 2,500 shut for good in 2020, many demolished or converted into private homes.
For many ordinary citizens “going to the pub” is more honoured in the breach than the observance – but not by political leaders. Photocalls in a saloon bar, pint in hand or pulling the pumps, are de rigueur for any campaign, only matched these days by hard hats and high-viz jackets on building sites.
Our leaders find the symbolism difficult to resist. Pubs have come to represent British patriotism. The most popular names evoke John Bull and Olde England. Within walking distance of where I am writing you can find a Royal Oak, a Crown, a Bull and a Griffin. The symbolism was latched onto forty years ago in the film The Long Good Friday when the Cockney gangster’s fictional pub, The Lion & The Unicorn, is blown up by Irish terrorists.
Going to a real English pub is said to be top of the list for male tourists who can’t fix tea with the Queen. Visiting leaders, who do rank a royal meeting, still face an obligatory trip to a boozer. One of John Major’s standard jokes was a laboured account of trying to get The Plough, the pub across the fields from Chequers, to open up for Boris Yeltsin. David Cameron took Xi Jinpiang to the same establishment for a pint, Allegedly the Chinese tried to buy the building for export afterwards. Tony Blair stood Jacques Chirac and George W Bush a round in several establishments in the North East. Mrs Thatcher preferred socialising at what she called “Chequer’s Church”. Theresa May is not easily associated with pubs either.
Pubmanship is shrewd politics for men only. Winning “Who would you most like to have a beer with?” is an early indicator of success. In the run-up to the Brexit referendum Boris Johnson out-polled that ultimate pubmeister, Nigel Farage of the George and Dragon. David Cameron trailed far behind. It works in America too. George W Bush trounced Al Gore and John Kerry in the have-a-beer vote. Hillary Clinton was a no hoper compared to Donald Trump, and consequently spent much of her losing campaign in trying to make up in blokeish truckstops and diners. The key to winning it seems is “Would the leader like me?”, outdoing considerations of “Do I like the leader?”.
Pub visits are a way for leaders to give the false impression that they are ordinary people, sharing the simple appetites of the notional man in the street. No Prime Minister is able to slip off for a swift one while in office due to security considerations, and few of them were inclined to do so on the way there. Boris Johnson may have produced an old photograph of a loving couple in a pub garden after his row with Carrie hit the headlines but he is known to favour the greater privacy of half-empty restaurants. The hard-up Prime Minister is also alleged to be reluctant to put his hand in his pocket for a round.
Gordon Brown trousered up automatically and is the only prime minister I’ve ever seen genuinely and unobtrusively relaxed in a pub setting. No heavy drinker, he knew the ropes after years as a student politician and bachelor. As the tale of the small daughter left behind after a jolly Sunday lunch suggests, David Cameron seems to be one of those loud types who can’t visit licenced premises without making themselves the centre of attention.
Next week’s opening promises an ersatz pub experience. It will be drinking outside only until 17 May. For many this could be more pleasurable than the real thing if the weather is fine. To the true alesman gardens are as unwelcome in pubs as food, music and fragrant latrines. Not forgetting children and “the ladies” who roam free outdoors.
The majority of pubs don’t have gardens, especially those in towns. Feverish efforts are underway in the run-up to build bivouacs on what used to be regarded as waste ground for storing garbage and empty kegs. In town centres streets are being closed and partitioned off in a way that is likely to benefit restaurants and cafes. Lots of pubs on the high street will stay shut, unwilling to risk fines for crowds on the pavements outside in breach of social distancing rules.
The Pub Resurrection is going to be messy. I wish them well for the sake of the economy and their thousands of employees. It seems likely, however, that many of them won’t make it. In place of traditional hostelries new, female-friendly places are opening up: cafés, clubs and restaurant-bars where alcohol is available but not the focus of all activity. The young are drinking less and those who do drink are more likely to do it courtesy of a supermarket rather than at the Fox and Hounds. In its drinking habits, England is becoming more like other countries. The Rovers Return and The Queen Vic in long-running TV series are a false depiction of contemporary Britain.
In their obsession with “going to the pub”, British politicians are infantilizing the electorate, pandering to us with beer, rather than bread and circuses. It’s an oddity because the boozer propping up the bar is an anti-hero. If anything, Irish pubs have a more legendary reputation. Yet Prime Minister Bertie Aherne made it a mark of the rising Celtic Tiger not to extend drinking hours, even in “diddly-diddly bars” for the tourists. These days Heads of State visiting Dublin are treated to a brisk business-like trip to the Guinness Brewery.
Boris Johnson’s pub garden pint – when he gets it in a few weeks – will be nostalgic, sexist blarney for a nation that has already heeded the call of “last orders”.