Monday 25 November 2019

Lies, damned lies and Johnson

Boris Johnson spent much of his time before entering politics in journalism. It's hard to say, in the current climate, which is the more dishonest and dishonourable profession. Johnson has managed to bring dishonesty and dishonour to both however. He has the notable distinction of having been sacked from jobs in both journalism and politics for the same reason - lying.

Lying journalist

The first job from which he was sacked for lying was at The Times (for inventing a quote for a front page story).

When Chris Patten, a European Commissioner during Johnson's tenure at The Times, spoke of Boris Johnson, he described Johnson as "one of the greatest exponents of fake journalism". More recently, he went on to say
“He’s lied his way through life, he’s lied his way through politics, he’s a huckster with a degree of charm to which I am immune. As well as being mendacious he’s incompetent.”
Truly, a glowing recommendation from a fellow Tory. This is what his own party thinks of him.

In 1999, he sought a position as Editor of The Spectator. To secure the post, he assured the owner (Conrad Black) that he didn't intend to pursue a career in politics. It only took him two years to break that promise and run for Parliament as Conservative candidate for Henley in 2001.

Lying politician

The next job from which he was sacked for lying was once he'd slid into politics. Michael Howard had made him party vice-chairman and shadow arts minister. He was sacked from both posts after promising Howard that reports of an affair were an “inverted pyramid of piffle”. When it turned out that the story of the affair was completely truthful, he refused to resign and was sacked for lying to his party leader.

I am occasionally told that I shouldn't care so much about the details of politicians lying as, "they all do it". And it's true - every manifesto, every campaign, and virtually every interview is filled with exaggeration and bluster as politicians try to persuade the electorate that the land of milk and honey lies only with a vote for their particular party. But there is a level of lying that heads beyond the endless claims of spending on public services that haven't actually been costed.

It seems a bit tired and boring to bang on now about the Vote Leave campaign, but it's hard to talk about Johnson and his lies without mentioning some of his prime whoppers.

At the launch of the now-infamous, £350-million-per-week lies-on-a-bus tour, Johnson headed back to some of his favourite arrant nonsense, regurgitating Lies Of Christmas Past with claims that the EU was setting rules on the shape of bananas.

And I think I've perhaps drawn attention to the claim that the UK was sending £350m a week to the EU, followed by “let’s fund our NHS instead”. Never mind the fact that the UK Statistics Authority issued an official statement in May 2016 describing the claim as “misleading”. That didn't stop Johnson repeated it in an article in the Telegraph in September 2017, and at various tedious intervals since. If you tell the same lie often enough, some people will believe you.

Then there were the repugnant, dog-whistle, racist claims that we were going to be swamped by Turkish immigrants. Not only did Johnson co-sign a letter claiming “the only way to avoid having common borders with Turkey is to vote Leave and take back control”. He then subsequently claimed that he did not mention Turkey during the referendum. Lies piled upon lies to pretend he hadn't lied in the first place.

And here we are now, referendum long past and a general election looming, and the press and public simply seem resigned to the fact that when Johnson opens his mouth lies will emerge.

There won't be a border in the Irish Sea? It almost makes you wonder if he's even read his own withdrawal agreement. Or perhaps it won't be a proper border, as it will be manned by unicorns. Not to mention (though I will), the fact that it was only a year ago that Johnson told the DUP at their conference, "We would be damaging the fabric of the Union with regulatory checks and even customs controls between Great Britain and Northern Ireland on top of those extra regulatory checks down the Irish Sea that are already envisaged in the withdrawal agreement."

"Now, I have to tell you that no British Conservative government could or should sign up to any such arrangement," he added. No, indeed they should not Mr Johnson. So why did you? And why do you continue to lie to the public and claim that's not exactly what you've done?

Then there's his old favourite... Parliament scuppered a deal... Almost every day he wheels that one out, conveniently ignoring the fact that it was he that voted against a deal, repeatedly. It was he that resigned from Cabinet to be able to vote against a deal. It was he that pulled the deal from Parliament after they'd voted it through, because he didn't dare allow it to be scrutinised for more than two days.

How about the 20,000 extra police officers he assured the residents of Oldham were "already operating on our streets"? They aren't. The government plan to recruit 20,000 additional officers, to replace the ones they've spent the last few years getting rid of.

Or maybe there are the 40 new hospitals, when in truth 6 hospitals will be upgraded in the next five years, if the Tories regain power, and everything else is additional funding offered beyond 2025, none of which is for a new hospital anywhere.

Or perhaps the claim that we have the lowest corporation tax in Europe (we don't - it's higher than Ireland, Lithuania and Hungary) and that Labour would make it the highest (they won't - they plan to return to 2011 levels by 2022, when it would still be lower than France and Belgium).

His lies become so extravagant, and so bare-faced, it almost feels absurd to be forced to point them out.

Obviously, I don't know Johnson personally, though at least one of my friends has been on the receiving end of unwanted sexual advances from him, so I confess to being predisposed to dislike him. But don't take my word for it, why not read what others who do know him think...


“What had we done for Boris? Had we taught him truthfulness? No. Had we taught him wisdom? No. What had we taught? Was it only how to make witty and brilliant speeches?” 
 Anthony Kenny, master of Balliol when Johnson was a student there

“Probably the worst scholar Eton ever sent us – a buffoon and an idler,”  
Oswyn Murray, Fellow of Balliol College

"There is room for debate about whether he is a scoundrel or mere rogue, but not much about his moral bankruptcy, rooted in a contempt for truth," 
Max Hastings, Editor of the Daily Telegraph

“Boris really has adopted a disgracefully cavalier attitude to his classical studies. It is a question of priorities, which most of his colleagues have no difficulty in sorting out. Boris sometimes seems affronted when criticised for what amounts to a gross failure of responsibility (and surprised at the same time that he was not appointed Captain of the School for next half): I think he honestly believes that it is churlish of us not to regard him as an exception, one who should be free of the network of obligation which binds everyone else.”
 Martin Hammond, Master in College, Eton

And this is the man we appear likely to elect as our Prime Minister?

Are we not better than this?

Do we not deserve better than this?



Sunday 17 November 2019

Definition of insanity

Isn't the definition of insanity doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome?

Two years ago, I held a children's party in our local Community room. I organised and ran party games for twenty-seven children, and felt stressed, over-wrought, anxious and (ultimately) utterly exhausted. So, when LittleBear asked to have a football-themed party in the Community room with me running football games for him, the correct answer should have been "No." Rarely do I come up with the sensible answer when my LittleBear asks for something however.

Which is how I came to be running a football party for twenty 7 and 8 year olds today. There was a lot of sweat, intermittent tears, but fortunately no blood. My single greatest parental asset now turns out to be a referee's whistle. They actually stop moving and listen*. Not for long, but often long enough to tell them something important, like "there's cake".

I have spent the last few days feeling stressed, over-wrought and anxious. And now I'm utterly exhausted. It's almost like someone could have predicted this...




* I have two spare referee's whistles. I'm open to offers for them.

Thursday 14 November 2019

Happy Birthday

Today my "baby" turned eight. Eight.  I can't quite wrap my head round eight at the moment. He may have to become MediumBear sometime. Not yet though. He's still LittleBear for now.

I have had to bite my tongue repeatedly not to spoil the surprises for his birthday, because I'm utterly rubbish at keeping secrets, but I'm glad I managed it, as he was suitably delighted with the esoteric mix of presents he received. I am a mixture of proud and alarmed that he is currently of the view that his favourite present was the box containing forty small screwtop jars. Each jar contains a sample of a different chemical element. I would have been quite happy to receive said collection, if only because it includes pieces of some splendidly obscure metals (Hafnium anyone?) and it warms the cockles of my heart to know my little boy finds the same joy. Second only to my son's delight in his new collection, is the knowledge that the entire set was donated to us by one of my colleagues after he decided that his accumulation of elements after a forty year career in analytical chemistry needed a new home.

For those concerned that my son might not be having enough fun, he did also receive multiple books and games, a cuddly snow leopard and a trip to Twickenham to watch the Barbarians.

Usually my highlight on LittleBear's birthday is seeing his happiness and excitement as he opens his presents. Today, however, it was trumped by a moment that almost brought me to tears...

It is "traditional" at his school that each child takes to school some kind of treat for all the members of their class. In LittleBear's case, the treat was a small mountain of packets of Haribo sweets, which he loves with a passion that I find mystifying.

When I retrieved him from school, he informed me that there had been one packet left, which would be for him. This seemed utterly reasonable to me, and in fact what I had assumed would be the case. As we set off down the school drive we passed his headmistress, who often tries to stand there to say goodbye to the pupils.

"There's MrsHeadmistress! Can I give her the last packet of Haribo?"

"Of course you can, if you'd like to."

And off he went, presenting his headmistress with his own sweets and having a little chat with her about his birthday, including his impending trip to Twickenham. She agreed to accept the sweets on the grounds he promise to tell her all about the rugby when he sees her on Monday.

As we headed home, I told my generous, sweet-hearted little boy how proud I was of him for being so thoughtful and being happy to give away his last packet of sweets.

"That's OK. It's my birthday and I'm getting lots of things."

How could anyone not love my boy?