Boris Johnson was a liar and he had to go. It seems they are allowed to say that even in the Palace of Westminster, in certain circumstances, when dignity has traditionally prohibited such offensive words. Perhaps Johnson thought he could roar and primp and crumble a few more months into the safety zone in another general election, as he half-suggested at his final questioning in the Commons on Wednesday. Perhaps his favorite weapon, his tongue, would enable him to fight another day. But he had said too much. He was doomed.
I still feel that Johnson’s quick fall will be noted by historians. Politics has long been a conspiracy of mendacities. Johnson seized power by telling lies about the benefits of freeing the British economy from the EU single market. Since Brexit the Office for Budget Responsibility has estimated a 4% fall in UK growth, which the FT calculates as £40bn in lost tax revenue each year due to Johnson’s tough deal. Just over half of voters now think it was a mistake to leave the EU. History may imagine that this played some part in Johnson’s departure. But no – he’s leaving because of partying and what he knew about whipping misbehavior.
The truth is that the political club can handle big lies. Tony Blair lied about the threat from Saddam Hussein and unnecessarily led the nation to war. He didn’t need to quit. Eden survived his Suez story, but Profumo’s personal lie was destroyed by Macmillan. As for “security”, all prime ministers think it entitles them to lie through their teeth – “to be economical with the truth”, according to a phrase popular with Thatcher’s cabinet secretary.
The usual excuse is that politicians are allowed to make up stories about the future, and indeed the past, if they were never elected. In his book Political Hypocrisy, Cambridge Professor David Runciman suggests that a certain degree of hypocrisy is necessary to underpin the hope, optimism and even faith that people have in democratic leaders. Leadership is a plausible illusion. Churchill called it a “lack of terminology”. Johnson thought that Brexit could be a Tory boss and he called it the appropriate name to regain control even when he must have known, as every trader now knows, that he would do the opposite .
To Runciman, exploiting hypocrisy is the essence of power, the ability to promise the world even when both the promiser and the audience know it to be rubbish. Lies are meant to convey confidence and ambition, like when parents lie to their children to confirm their love. Johnson was capable of it. He promised to “level up” the country. He told everyone that Britain was the greatest country in the world and “globally”. He sent aircraft carriers to the South China Sea and danced to serve Ukraine. He laughed and joked and lied. It was magnetic. He remains, according to YouGov, the most popular Tory leader for a generation (with 30% approval rating).
Perhaps that was the message Johnson gave to his acolyte Liz Truss, now predicted by some to be prime minister in a month. Rishi Sunak believes that fiscal prudence, honesty and responsibility are the best way to appeal to Tory members. Trus disagrees. She promises what a chorus of economic commentators declare to be fiscal nonsense. She assured the BBC that her tax cuts would reduce inflation. When asked to defend this statement, she could only cite Patrick Minford, the economic architect of the Brexit disaster. I have combed the columns of the financial press and have not found a single support for his thesis.
Experts from the OECD to the Resolution Foundation point out that the UK has among the lowest tax burdens in Europe. Many new regimes promise tax cuts and higher spending on public services, with a temporary increase in borrowing. What is new in post-Covid Britain is that the resulting debt would rise beyond peacetime precedent. With all public services now screaming for cash, Truss intends to preach not just tax cuts but austerity. It is to preach that she must know that the Treasury and the Cabinet will not really do. But if that politics worked for Johnson, why not try it again?
The art of political expediency is to focus on things that cannot be tested immediately – to lie about the future. The lies that led to Johnson’s downfall may have been relatively small but they were momentous and immediately detectable. They were Houdini’s lies, allowing them to escape one bondage even if they only led to another. They erode trust all the time.
I believe that truth in public life is really increasing. The media can easily verify political statements. The shroud of secrecy that has long hung over government – petty corruption, lack of audits, planning bribery – is vulnerable to ever-increasing penetration and digital monitoring. Fakes and craven promises are easier to disentangle and test.
If politicians could not promise the world – or claim to have created it – democracy would be obscure. But there must be limits. When Rishi Sunak says two plus two equals four and Liz Truss says five, I have no choice. I have to go to Sunak.
Simon Jenkins is a Guardian columnist
