The political world’s new publishing sensation, a 350-page sulk by jilted British MP Nadine Dorries, could be spared its fate in the remainder bin by being repackaged as “Politics for Dummies”.
At the risk of spoiling The Plot’s suspense, Dorries – the former Conservative MP best known as an author of heartwarming novels – “reveals” that a cabal of people, mostly men, some “shadowy”, were behind both the elevation and the downfall of Boris Johnson as British prime minister. And that they, and other cabals of mostly men, some “shadowy”, had also installed and rolled other leaders. And that one of the shadowy-est was the sinisterly furtive – but daily blurting in the media – strategist Dominic Cummings.
Dorries attests that she can no longer remain silent about these secret conspiracies.
Despite her 20-plus years’ political experience, the basic operating model of politics – cabals and a degree of shadowiness – came as a tremendous shock.
Deliciously, the real conspiracy is that no one, least of all her publisher, has had the heart to tell her that her catalogue of conspiracies spans activities neither novel nor secret.
The book does convey a flavour of the sensational new degrees of rancour, dishonesty and incompetence that the Johnson era fostered, but those are not the bits Dorries is scandalised by.
To anyone wondering why the book was published, given she’s the only person shocked by its contents, the answer is probably: Prince Harry. Despite everything in his memoir Spare being exhaustively reported in the media before it went on sale, it became one of the fastest-selling non-fiction titles in history. Publishers now know readers will pay to re-read what they’ve already read if they’re told enough times how sensational it is. By the time they’ve bought the book and realised it’s not sensational or fresh, the publishers have got their money – which is actually quite sensationally shrewd.
It also helps to know that Dorries’ furiously prosecuted case against the establishment comes after that establishment failed to grant her the peerage Johnson promised her.
Experts are divided over the value of the House of Lords, but it’s probably fair to say that installing Dorries within it wouldn’t have been a value-added proposition.
That small, cunning and determined groups of people privately manipulate politics by becoming influential and persuasive should not cause such a fit of the vapours. When leaders become unpopular, these cabals either scuttle them or are overwhelmed by another group of even more cunning, determined, influential operatives with a new suite of policies and personalities. And so on.
And frankly, if not, why not? This ruthless model endures because it’s effective – though admittedly not in the hands of recent British politicos. Politics’ core is persuasion and influence. Idealism and altruism alone would be nicer, but without the tank fuel of realpolitik, “nice” never makes it past fairy dust. However righteous anyone’s objectives, they have to become popular to have a shot at achieving them.
What would have been sensational? To learn that Johnson was elected leader because he was rated a person of gravitas and vision, not because of his appealing populism and charisma. And how, having behaved like an underslept toddler on a sugar rush in office, he had secretly surrendered the job, not by alleging that a big boy (ie, Cummings) did all the naughtiness and ran away, but by humbly apologising and wishing his successors all the best. And how the party had next elevated Liz Truss because of her sage and widely acclaimed economic ideas, not because she was the shoutiest populist they could find in their utter desperation.
Hopefully, that version will be the plot of Dorries’ next warm-hearted novel for young adults.
