Boris Johnson has always been an enthusiastic proponent of the long unfashionable ‘great man’ theory of history. As he argued in his short biography of Winston Churchill, Churchill was a living refutation of the notion that great men and women are just ‘meretricious bubbles on the vast tides of social history’, a ‘withering retort to all that malarkey. He, and he alone, made the difference’.
Boris’s own downfall is a magnificent demonstration – though perhaps not of the sort he would have hoped for – that he was onto something. Character does make a difference. It wasn’t ‘events, dear boy, events’ that did for him – though heaven knows he was rocked by a few of those. Everything he got wrong, in the end, came down to defects of character: he dithered over difficult decisions because he wanted to be loved; he hadn’t the patience to get across important detail; he put himself and his unregulated appetites first; and when the threat arose of having to take responsibility for anything, his reflex was always to tell a fib.
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