Circus over for king of the clowns

We live in times when it feels like important historical events come by weekly, but the protracted resignation of British Prime Minister Boris Johnson does seem genuinely significant.

How will the last years of the second decade of the 21st century be remembered? We might come to think of it as the age of the appealing idiot or the media-savvy demagogue. British columnist George Monbiot defined them three years ago as ‘‘the killer clowns’’. Johnson was at the top of the list, and former US president Donald Trump was close behind, but the group also included Brazil’s Jair Bolsonaro, Hungary’s Viktor Orban and, somewhat controversially, Australia’s Scott Morrison.

Monbiot’s entire cohort of killer clowns was male, conservative and nationalistic. They were ‘‘preposterous exhibitionists’’ and ‘‘extravagant buffoons’’ who benefited from short attention spans and a preference for entertainment and novelty over sobriety and diligence. Trump’s vulgarity was in utter contrast to the less relatable intellectual appeal of his predecessor, Barack Obama. Similarly, Johnson’s exaggerated bonhomie was the exact opposite of former prime minister Theresa May, who once said the naughtiest thing she had ever done was to run through fields of wheat as a child. That wouldn’t even make Johnson’s top 1000.

Trump and Johnson traded on personas manufactured by the media. Trump was presented as a decisive corporate leader on the ‘‘reality show’’ The Apprentice. Johnson honed his image as an amiable, scruffy but funny toff in repeated appearances on the panel show Have I Got News For You. For both, politics seemed like a sub-branch of entertainment.

Both men also had trouble with the truth and usual responsibilities of public office. A 1982 school report seemed enormously prescient of Johnson’s behaviour as prime minister, describing him as having ‘‘a disgracefully cavalier attitude’’ and apparently believing ‘‘it is churlish of us not to regard him as an exception, one who should be free of the network of obligation which binds everyone else’’.

His former editor at The Telegraph, historian Max Hastings, called him ‘‘a man of remarkable gifts, flawed by an absence of conscience, principle or scruple’’. In other words, the shortcomings and deceptions that ultimately undid Johnson were in plain sight from the start, just as the Trump who called the 2020 election stolen and encouraged the January 6 attacks was already in full view by 2015.

Voters everywhere need to ask themselves why they encourage and support politicians such as these. The fault is with us as much as with them, if we seek leaders who project strength and personal charisma rather than more conciliatory skills.

Both men have taken defeat badly. Despite calls to go quickly, Johnson intends to stay on for a three-month transition. Some wonder if he will try to shore up renewed support, or that he is hanging on to stage his wedding party at Chequers, the British prime minister’s country residence.

That would be one last media spectacle for an ousted leader who will miss the limelight. But once he has gone, he is unlikely to return. The same cannot be said for Trump, who should be considered completely disgraced by any sane measure, but may be plotting a return in 2024, and who will be able to point to the rollback of Roe v Wade as a significant political achievement. The age of the clowns may not be over.