Some of us are old enough to remember where we were every time Peter Mandelson resigned. His departures from high office are like royal weddings: a chance to freeze a moment in our nation’s long story, to capture something of the people we have become. The author David Nicholls is rumoured to be working on a novel about a star-crossed couple who run into each other over the decades on the days Mandelson quits.
These are times of joy, of course, but also tinged with sadness: a reminder that so much which seems permanent in this life — whether it’s an appointment as Business Secretary or the ambassadorship to Washington — is as fleeting as the wind. As the Anglican order of service so nearly puts it: “Peter has resigned. Peter has a job. Peter will resign again.”
And as we each celebrate, whether it’s with a social media post, a street party or simply quietly at home, these resignations are a chance for us to take stock of our own lives, and also check whether somewhere there is a cache of emails to a convicted criminal that might, in a certain light, look quite awkward.
Like any real genius, Mandelson gives each of his falls from grace its own unique character. There was the time he resigned over secret dealings with a millionaire, and then of course the time he resigned over his secret dealings with a millionaire. Now he has resigned over his secret dealings with a millionaire. It is hard to know what will cause his next downfall.
Perhaps, like Tony Blair before him, Keir Starmer will give Mandelson another job. And then, after he resigns from that, another-nother job. Although many will rush to criticise the prime minister today, there was simply no way he could have foreseen that a well-publicised friendship with America’s most notorious sex offender might turn out to be a political problem.
For my children, this is their first Mandelson resignation. I hope that they will treasure it. There will be others, of course, but there is something special about seeing the political mastermind illuminated by flashbulbs as a government car whisks him away and he pulls out his phone and tries to remember which of his mates is currently out of prison and not using their yacht.
Truly, we shall not see his like again. For at least six months. And then we pretty certainly will.
