Just now, Boris Johnson matters. He matters because he is Britain’s prime minister at a critical moment in the pandemic. The authority of his office should be directed at achieving the one reasonably sure defence against it: mass vaccination. Sunday night’s announcement that the vaccination programme is being stepped up to get third doses to all adults by the end of December will require a million doses to be administered every day for the rest of the month. That is a tall order and may not be achieved, but it should be treated as a national priority to fend off another Christmas and New Year in lockdown.
Johnson must know that his authority, along with his dignity, is in the worst possible state to order this. His appearance on Sunday, his hair artfully dishevelled, dwarfed by an absurdly large union jack, was that of a clown acting a Ruritanian princeling. His daily photo-opportunities, his misjudgments, mendacities and “global Britain” vacuities insult public intelligence and merely line him up for one fall after another. He has become the media’s favourite victim, a politician inviting constant ribaldry and rotten eggs.
It is easy to accuse Johnson’s vaccination promise of coming too late, and its implausible but impressive-sounding million-jabs-a-day target as merely a flashy distraction from his woes. It is also easy to point out that his messy private life and inability to treasure truth make a mockery of his Sunday-night lecture to the nation on moral duty.
Yet the vaccination campaign is vital. A pandemic is not unlike a war. At such times the state has a licence, indeed a duty, to take control of new areas of public life. For that control to be effective, it must offer leadership and that must come from the top, from the prime minister. This applies even when that prime minister seems unable to invest his office with its customary dignity or find able colleagues to serve under him in anything other than a shambolic fashion. Circumstance, not justice, entitles him to ask for a degree of loyalty and obedience.
Johnson is reportedly furious with the media, and especially the BBC, for a fixation on last year’s lockdown parties in Downing Street. The media can reply that the fault is entirely his, for constantly lying about them. There is nothing so worthy of ridicule as a politician caught in a rat trap. The prime minister seems to believe that the point has been made and coverage of “partygate” has moved from a Westminster gameshow to a personal hate-fest. There is some justice in this charge. But asking a member of his staff to inquire into a possibly illegal activity in his office was hardly a reassuring means of kicking the issue into touch.
As it is, Johnson brings a few assets to his current task. Until recently he has been a popular figure. He engages with the public when he encounters them. His bumbling humour when off piste is not unattractive. On Sunday his case that the Omicron Covid variant justified an emergency response was persuasive. If Johnson’s personal qualities have jeopardised this campaign it is for history and perhaps this week’s North Shropshire byelection to judge. They will certainly be entered on the charge sheet as and when Conservative MPs come to ponder who they want to lead them into the next election.
At present an emergency is an emergency. The prime minister has asked parliament and the nation to rally round and the national interest indicates that they should do so. For the time being, Johnson deserves a break.
Simon Jenkins is a Guardian columnist
