Dec 15, 2004
Blunkett’s downfall
David Blunkett, simultaneously one of the most popular and most loathed of British politicians, has resigned as Home Secretary. (He took to new heights – or lows -- that strange, twisted impulse that requires a Labour Home Secretary to be tougher and meaner than the average crocodile, let alone a Tory in the same post, and really seemed to mean it.)
He wouldn’t be the first British politician to be brought down by an extra-marital affair or the odd love-child. But times have changed, it seems; and this time, in fact, it wasn’t about his sexual misdemeanours, although the fact that he himself isn’t married may still make a difference. (And Robin Cook had to divorce his wife and marry his mistress to get away with it, but he did get away with it.)
No, it was about the way his private life may have intruded into his political one: that his feelings for his mistress led him to abuse his power, in the 'fast-tracking' of her nanny's visa application. More than that, it was the latest manifestation of what a friend recently dubbed the Steven Byers syndrome. Byers (then Transport Secretary) was hounded by the press for months before he gave in and admitted defeat. (That all began with an asinine email written on 9/11 by his employee, a supposed professional in press relations, and his failure to force her to resign immediately.)
Estelle Morris (Education) hated the media pressure, and there can be no question that it contributed to her decision to resign. Beverly Hughes (Immigration) decided to jump almost before it had begun. They both knew quite well that the glare of negative publicity was not going to go away until the desired result was obtained, and that it would make it impossible to do their jobs effectively anyway. Blunkett, too, went much sooner than even I’d expected.
Well, of course politicians should be accountable for their actions, and the press has a role to play in ensuring that they are. The trouble is that it doesn't matter any more how substantial or otherwise the accusations are; it's rarely about real crimes or serious political corruption. All of these politicians made mistakes and serious errors of judgment, but there has been since 1997 nothing even close to the scandals surrounding, say, Jonathan Aitken and Neil Hamilton. (Not even Tony’s favourite courtier Peter Mandelson compared to that pair, and he’s been forced to resign twice.) It doesn’t even matter whether there is any real evidence: accusations and rumour alone are enough to have people clamouring for resignations. That’s the power of the press in British politics these days. I had no love for Blunkett, but I’m not cheering the sight of yet another politician persecuted out of office by the worst kind of corrosive media influence.
He wouldn’t be the first British politician to be brought down by an extra-marital affair or the odd love-child. But times have changed, it seems; and this time, in fact, it wasn’t about his sexual misdemeanours, although the fact that he himself isn’t married may still make a difference. (And Robin Cook had to divorce his wife and marry his mistress to get away with it, but he did get away with it.)
No, it was about the way his private life may have intruded into his political one: that his feelings for his mistress led him to abuse his power, in the 'fast-tracking' of her nanny's visa application. More than that, it was the latest manifestation of what a friend recently dubbed the Steven Byers syndrome. Byers (then Transport Secretary) was hounded by the press for months before he gave in and admitted defeat. (That all began with an asinine email written on 9/11 by his employee, a supposed professional in press relations, and his failure to force her to resign immediately.)
Estelle Morris (Education) hated the media pressure, and there can be no question that it contributed to her decision to resign. Beverly Hughes (Immigration) decided to jump almost before it had begun. They both knew quite well that the glare of negative publicity was not going to go away until the desired result was obtained, and that it would make it impossible to do their jobs effectively anyway. Blunkett, too, went much sooner than even I’d expected.
Well, of course politicians should be accountable for their actions, and the press has a role to play in ensuring that they are. The trouble is that it doesn't matter any more how substantial or otherwise the accusations are; it's rarely about real crimes or serious political corruption. All of these politicians made mistakes and serious errors of judgment, but there has been since 1997 nothing even close to the scandals surrounding, say, Jonathan Aitken and Neil Hamilton. (Not even Tony’s favourite courtier Peter Mandelson compared to that pair, and he’s been forced to resign twice.) It doesn’t even matter whether there is any real evidence: accusations and rumour alone are enough to have people clamouring for resignations. That’s the power of the press in British politics these days. I had no love for Blunkett, but I’m not cheering the sight of yet another politician persecuted out of office by the worst kind of corrosive media influence.