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Thursday 4 December 2008

What I should say sorry for

Boris Johnson on his penitential pilgrimage to Liverpool

But what makes Operation Scouse-grovel even more depressing is that I am attacked by my own troops for embarking upon it. In the journalistic equivalent of the fragging that GIs used to perform upon their officer, Stephen Glover, our own media correspondent, has said that in coming to Liverpool I am letting down The Spectator. He claims in Tuesday’s Daily Mail that in going to apologise, at the behest of Michael Howard, the Tory leader, I am acting like a whipped cur, and that I have compromised the integrity of the magazine. Not since the 18th century, says Glover, has the editor of a national publication been treated like the plaything of his political masters. It is a disgrace, says The Spectator’s media correspondent, and shows that I cannot simultaneously serve two leaders — Michael Howard and last week’s editorial. He ends his piece with words of dark foreboding about the freedom of the press.

The first thing to say is that Glover’s piece shows, of course, the fearless independence of all Spectator columnists. Not only does he beat up Michael Howard and the Tory party, he also administers a resounding kicking to his own editor — with whom he had lunch less than a week ago, at which companionable and bibulous ceremony he requested and was granted a sizeable rise! That’s the spirit, Glover! If that isn’t freedom of the press, I don’t know what is. It is also in keeping with Stephen’s reputation for detachment that before composing this remonstrance he actively decided not to call me to find out what I might actually be saying by way of apology to Liverpool. And finally, as with all Glover’s excellent pieces, it must be conceded that he appears to have a good point.

It does look odd, on the face of it, that an editor should be making a penitential pilgrimage at the behest of a party leader. It is true that when the firestorm of hate began to engulf The Spectator last week, I immediately thought of travelling to the city to say sorry for the offence caused, and then vaguely shelved the plan on the grounds that it seemed unlikely to be taken seriously by the people of Liverpool. When Michael Howard rang on Saturday to suggest the same idea, I agreed that it might, on balance, do more good than harm. At that stage I had neither computed the implied Gloverian threat to editorial independence, nor did I foresee that Michael’s brilliant spin doctors would present this as some sort of disciplinary procedure, in which the ideal headline was intended to be: ‘SHAMED TORY BUFFOON JOHNSON IN LIVERPOOL GROVEL — IRON MIKE GETS TOUGH’. It is that impression, of an editor clicking his heels on the orders of a politician, that sticks in Glover’s craw, and I can seen why.

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