Boris Johnson: the personality cult and "national saviour" narrative

After Boris Johnson’s first appearance at the House of Commons as Prime Minister, his general approach was dismissed by the opposition as “incoherent optimism”. This is as accurate a description of Johnson’s “free jazz” approach to dialogue as you may get, but at the same time, it exemplifies the problem that conventional parties have to tackling Populism as a whole. They cannot counter appeals to emotion with references to facts; it is an approach doomed to failure, for it misses the point. They do not understand the nature of what they are up against.

Johnson’s appeals to emotion are typical to Populism, with the important distinction that Johnson became London mayor eleven years ago using the same charismatic,maverick approach several years before Populism became a wider force in the world. It should also be mentioned that Johnson’s predecessor at the mayoralty, Ken Livingstone, used his own charismatic (left-wing) style to great success for eight years.

Love versus fear

Johnson has been compared to Trump many times before for obvious reasons, but there are also important personality differences worth mentioning too, and these affect their political style in important ways. The two men may well be Populists, but they are Populists of their own mould. Both men are narcissistic and charismatic,reckless and unprincipled. Both men have used their force of will to attain personal success by breaking conventions and engaging in amoral behaviour. And yet, although their careers have both fluctuated over the decades, they were always in an ultimately upward trajectory, until they reached the absolute pinnacle of power.

What is different about Johnson and Trump is what motivates them beyond the self-evident narcissism. Trump’s motivation stems from the instincts of a businessman. He is a swindler with the approach to ethics as straight-laced as a mafia don, and although he clearly loves attention, he doesn’t seem to mind what kind of attention it is; bad publicity is still publicity, after all. This indicates a very high (and very skewed) sense of omnipotence.

In this sense, Trump is the kind of narcissist that doesn’t care if few people love him or like him, as long as people respect him. He may be a difficult person to love, but a much easier person to respect; and he seems to have earned a kind of grudging respect even from enemies that hate him. If you can’t be loved, then at least be feared: this seems to be his “mafia don” mentality that he applied first to business, and now to politics.

Johnson’s narcissism, on the other hand, seems to stem from an innate need to be loved. Playing the buffoon and the clown simply for people’s laughs (and therefore affection) has been his singular style since becoming involved in politics.While he is by nature academically-bright and sharp-witted, his public persona has been to play the jester. 

This also explains why Johnson’s rhetorical style is subtly different from Trump’s. To borrow the phrase used at the start, compared to Johnson, Trump’s rhetorical style is more “angry incoherence” compared to Boris’ “incoherent optimism”. Boris wants to make people feel good, so that they will feel good about him. His use of high-flown rhetoric and pseudo-Churchillian prose are a strategic act and a psychological ploy. It is also clear that he is at his most comfortable when in this role, such as when inspiring Londoners during the Olympics or extolling Britain’s future prospects during the referendum campaign. With the oncoming event of Brexit, he is in the role of national leader continuing in the same motivational manner, exhorting others to combine with him in a collective spirit, and scolding the opposition for sowing doubt and disharmony.

The cult of Boris

Of course, by embracing such a faith-based belief system, the reality of Brexit hardly seems to matter to him. Boris has turned Britain into the archetypal personality cult, with him as its charismatic leader. This is where Nigel Farage and Johnson share the same instincts: they are both “Pied Pipers”, and along with Donald Trump, are an Anglo-Saxon Triumvirate of Populism.

In this way, Boris’ message is both dangerously seductive and terrifyingly simplistic. He has turned Brexit from an ideological “death cult” to an esoteric “sex cult”: his persona provides a motivational “force of nature” that infatuates the nation, making them love him for making them love themselves and love their country. The negative energy, and the anger and depression that Theresa May’s ghoulish tenure generated has been transformed by Boris into a kind of orgiastic national hero-worship.

It may still be Brexit “do or die”, but Boris’ rhetoric ability is to make it seductive regardless, and to make people love him for it in the process. To any right-thinking person, Brexit may well be a disaster, but to Boris’ supporters, it will still be a glorious disaster. Boris’ ability to channel all the stereotypical national myths into an evocative “Brexit” narrative is the spell that his supporters don’t want to end. Such a narrative would be even difficult for agnostic parts of the electorate to ignore. After all, it worked three years ago, so why not now, at its most pivotal moment?

The signs are that the anger that Farage channeled through his “Brexit Party” is now being dissipated by Boris’ singular rhetoric; his purple prose transforming the “betrayal” narrative into a narrative of national salvation. Boris’ emotive and bombastic talk in the House of Commons on his first full day in power left the opposition not only confounded but also dejected. As said earlier, they simply lack the political tools to know how to deal with it. The only answer is for them to find their own emotive narrative to fight back against Boris with, but they are too divided and lacking in a clear direction to know where this would come from.

This is why there is a temptation to go along with the “national destiny” narrative: that Boris, from a young age, was destined for greatness, regardless of his reckless and unconventional nature. The Churchill parallels are well-known, as well as knowingly well-versed by Johnson himself. Clearly, he has long been fascinated by the wartime leader, seeing the man’s ups and downs and long-winded career (and unstable upbringing) reflected in his own. Churchill was a deeply-complex (and often maddening) character, and his long career before 1940 was largely famed for its infamy, in spite of its longevity. Like Boris, the people that most liked Churchill didn’t know him; they only loved the myth. While charismatic, he could as easily be horrendous company. It was only the Second World War that rectified his reputation; so now, the man on the British five pound note is only remembered for his exploits during a five year period of war. The charlatan and drunk he was known as before has been forgotten.

Doubtless, Boris has similar hopes of national “immortality”. If he can get his government through Brexit, then his hope is that he stays in power for long enough that people will remember him for being the charismatic blonde-mopped icon in power at a time of adversity and national change and will have forgotten about any of the trauma and hardships (he created) that went with it.

Given his luck, he may well pull it off.