Does dishonesty matter in politics, or does it not? Boris Johnson is not the first dissembling or deceitful politician to inhabit No 10, but his chicanery is uniquely lacking in subtlety. His declaration last December that “all guidance was followed and the rules were followed at all times” – despite No 10 receiving what must amount to more fines per square metre than any other building in Britain – neatly encapsulates the prime minister’s character. His increasingly desperate apologists may protest that Johnson believed he was stating what he believed to be true, but much like the characters in David Cronenberg’s film Existenz, who spend so much time playing a virtual reality game they no longer understand what is real, Johnson has lived in a world of lies for so long that he probably struggles to recognise what truth is.
There is a consensus among his opponents that Johnson’s serial dishonesty corrupts our flailing democracy. While widespread contempt for politicians may seem culturally ingrained, a recent study found that 63% believed politicians to be out for themselves, compared to 48% in 2014 and 35% in 1944. This naturally raises the question of Keir Starmer. For the Labour leader’s uber-supporters on social media, to even question his honesty – given the scale of his opponent’s violations of truth – is an indecent act. This itself underlines Johnson’s efficacy in poisoning democratic norms: by being so serially dishonest, he increases tolerance for deceit that is seen as less severe.
