The United Kingdom cannot rid itself of its fascination with the nation’s prodigal son. So the question — what makes Boris Johnson tick? — will be interrogated, teased apart, obsessed over in the history books for years to come. But there are some impossible-to-ignore qualities that underpin his curious political immortality.
He owes much to his obsession with the classics, something that gives way to his unique capacity for rhetorical grandstanding. His mode of communication is informed by his lodestar, the Athenian general Pericles; his words echo the Republican orator Cicero, stripped of all the genuine virtue; the literary symbol of Roman destiny, Aeneas, must arouse something in him too.
Johnson seeks limelight like an addict, sacrificing those in his path to maintain it. His obsession with whacky infrastructure projects — such as the proposed bridge from Scotland to Northern Ireland — is childlike in its naivety. Little seems capable of bursting his inflated optimism. His supersized confidence is the only thing that can eclipse his moral lassitude.
It was only in his twilight days in 10 Downing Street that we could see an inkling of defeatism; signs that his false sense of momentum had come sputtering to a halt; a looming realisation that not all would work out as it always had done before. Few of these things make for a great prime minister. As qualities, some are admirable, but they are certainly not enough to make up for his failings. It did not make him suitable to hold any other great office of state either.
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But there is one job in British politics that Johnson hasn’t road tested yet. And perhaps it is the one that would have suited him best. Johnson might just be the greatest leader of the opposition Britain never had. Those who have had the misfortune of trying it call it the toughest job in politics. If we accept that the primary function of the opposition leader is to eventually become prime minister then we can spend a while thinking of those who tried in vain: Ed Miliband, Jeremy Corbyn, Michael Howard and Iain Duncan Smith, to name a few.
But what separates the good from the bad? It is a job that requires injecting purpose into what might otherwise feel a hopeless pursuit. It is one that requires subtle electioneering, landing rhetorical blows and showing up the inadequacies of the government. Optimism, energy, eloquence? Johnson has them in spades.
Tony Blair once diagnosed the frustration of being opposition leader as the ability to speak but not do. Johnson was not actually an unproductive prime minister. But his most effective act in power was wrenching Britain out of the European Union in such a haphazard manner that the country may never fully clean up the mess. We might have preferred his role to be confined to speaking. The doing was much of the problem.
Of course he would need to divest himself of the fatal flaw: an insatiable thirst for being the centre of the universe has been the downfall of greater men than him
Steve Richards, author of The Prime Ministers We Never Had, explains that opposition leaders suffer from an ill-defined job, one “much closer to an art form” than the technical decisions the prime minister faces every day. Whatever we might think of Johnson, we know he hardly approached his time in Downing Street with any attributes of a forensic scientist, drawn far more to the painter’s smock over the lab coat.
Johnson may not have wielded his power with the grace of Caravaggio’s paint brush and perhaps he lacked Michelangelo’s instinct for beauty. But Jackson Pollock is an artist too. Chaotic, impressionistic, iconoclastic — that was Johnson’s modus operandi. Of course, accepting all of this means we must acknowledge what else it implies. Johnson’s disinterest in detail is almost negligent — his former adviser Dominic Cummings alleged that he spent the early days of the pandemic writing a book about Shakespeare. He cannot be trusted in high office. He stares into the abyss of rule books and ethics committees and merely shrugs. He harms the fortunes of many he touches.
But on the opposition benches he might just be a star. Of course he would need to divest himself of the fatal flaw: an insatiable thirst for being the centre of the universe has been the downfall of greater men than him. It’s a bad habit and it’s hard to break. But the sooner Johnson realises that his skills lie in saying and not doing perhaps he’ll land his role of a lifetime.
As Rishi Sunak takes position in Number 10 — touted as the political stabilisers Britain so desperately needs — we shouldn’t be so quick to breathe a sigh of relief. Sunak has backed many of the things that led Britain down this dark and tangled path. He voted for Brexit, erroneously claiming it would lead to growth. Worse than that, he thought Johnson was the right man for the job. Given this, it is high time for the Tories to see the opposition benches. And even though Johnson fumbled his return bid to office, it is unlikely the end of him. He is politics’ answer to Japanese knotweed.
There is just one problem with choosing Boris to captain the ship from the other side of the chamber. It would light the long path back to Number 10. This might be the gravest error the Conservative Party, and the country, could possibly make.