Observe, this dark weekend, a contrast. On Whitehall, the centre of British government, the Royal Family and leaders of our political class gather to pay solemn tribute at the Cenotaph to those who gave their lives for their country in the two world wars and other conflicts since. In a year that has witnessed the death of our beloved longest reigning monarch and political turbulence involving the rapid turnover of three prime ministers, the annual ceremony is especially poignant and shows Britain at its best.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, in Australia’s Springbrook National Park, a party of ‘celebrities’ gathered to watch as Matt Hancock, the former Secretary of State for Health, and the man who presided over the government’s authoritarian response to the Covid pandemic, eagerly dived into a tunnel where liquid excrement was poured over his head on live television, followed by an assortment of what he called ‘creepy-crawlies’ including insects, maggots, and scorpions.
In dim and distant days we may have disagreed with our politicians but at least we respected them. Today we merely snigger and sneer.
Later, after enjoying his bushtucker meal of a camel’s penis, a sheep’s vagina and a cow’s anus, Hancock was quizzed by his fellow contestants about the actions that led to the loss of his job last year when he was pictured passionately kissing his lover Gina Coladangelo after telling the nation to observe social distancing and keep well apart, and forbidding us to visit the sick and dying.
Challenged by former pop star Boy George and ITV presenter Charlene White about his hypocrisy when they had been unable to say farewell to elderly relatives dying of Covid, Hancock replied : ‘Yeah. Well, there you go…’ before lamely claiming that his Covid rules were merely ‘guidance’ and that he had broken no law. He then emotionally said that he had come on the show in search of ‘a bit of forgiveness’.
Back in Britain, another leading politician, Sir Gavin Williamson, resigned from the government ‘to clear his name’ after he was accused of bullying behaviour towards colleagues and civil servants. Williamson hotly denies the allegations, but this is his third resignation or dismissal from senior political posts for various reasons, and – to misquote Oscar Wilde – ‘ to lose one job, Mr Williamson, may be regarded as a misfortune, to lose three looks like carelessness’.
Let’s leave aside for a moment the total lack of self-awareness on Hancock’s part over how his actions may appear to others, and Williamson’s repeat offending which show him at the very least to be a nasty piece of work as well as invincibly stupid. We can also ignore Hancock’s probable motive for being willing to look a total prat – or if you prefer, ‘a good sport’ – in front of millions. He is being paid a reported £400,000 for his efforts down under, and with his political career already in the dunny, he took a clear-eyed decision to shed what little was left of his reputation and dignity, ignore his constituents and his job as an MP, not to find forgiveness but to pursue an alternative vocation for the reward of ready money.
After all, Ed Balls and Michael Portillo had led the way in carving out lucrative TV careers after their political ambitions crashed and burned. Though tripping the light fandango on the Strictly dance floor, or chuffing round the world by rail is a good deal less humiliating and ridiculous than munching animal anuses or exposing yourself to mockery, hatred and contempt – not to mention showers of shit – as Hancock is now doing.
No, without undue pomposity or falling into Hancockian hypocrisy ourselves, what is truly significant about the shaming of these two failed politicians is that they symbolise the sad moral decline of our ‘leaders’ as a political class. In the 20th century cabinet ministers resigned if they were caught committing adultery with showgirls or frolicking with Guardsmen in St James’ Park. They then – like Jack Profumo – spent the rest of their lives quietly doing penance for their sins with unpaid charity work, or, like Ian Harvey, campaigning for homosexual law reform. They did not go on TV to humiliate themselves for vast fees while bleating about forgiveness or vowing to clear their names.
Can anyone imagine for a moment Winston Churchill, Harold Macmillan – himself a heroic Guardsman wounded on the Somme – or Clem Attlee, one of the last men off the bloody beaches of Gallipoli, behaving like Hancock or Williamson? In those dim and distant days we may have disagreed with our politicians but at least we respected them. Today we merely snigger and sneer.
This Remembrance weekend above all is a time to compare what we were with what we have become as a society and hang our own heads in shame. For most disturbing of all is the fact that we are the audience who lap up the sadism of I’m a Celebrity with such eager relish. So the fault does not entirely lie with the absurd and contemptible Hancock or the nasty and pathetic Williamson – it lies with ourselves.
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