There are moments when the world turns on the actions of a single man. When, with the metaphorical Etruscans bearing down on Rome, out spakes some brave Horatius to point out that to every man upon this earth death really does cometh soon or late, and indeed that in yon strait pass a thousand may well be held up with a couple of lads and a bit of vim, and then goes on the inquire who will stand on either hand and keep the bridge with him. To be present at such moments is to be a witness to history. It is a privilege, and with that privilege comes a compelling sense of duty, duty to record events for future generations.
Such a moment came at five minutes to two on Tuesday afternoon when John Slinger, the Labour MP for Rugby, stood in the House of Commons to defend the prime minister. As ever at such moments, the speech operated on several levels that will be picked over for decades to come, but in the limited space available today, I can focus only on its two key messages: that people should stop being mean to Keir Starmer, and that he, John Slinger, would really like to be a junior minister. No job too small.
What made Slinger’s speech so noteworthy was that it was the only one from a Labour backbencher in support of the prime minister
The moment came during the emergency debate on Peter Mandelson’s sacking. There’s not much new to say about this and it would, over the course of three hours, be said at great length by both opposition parties and Emily Thornberry who, having been slighted by Starmer a year ago, had decided to help the opposition out because it was clearly busy.
Oppositions gonna oppose, as Thomas Babington Macaulay may or may not have put it. The interesting question at such moments, when not even the government is pretending that the whole situation isn’t a huge mess, is who will defend. Early in the session the Labour whips passed round an A4 sheet with two sides of pointed questions that supportive MPs could ask if they wanted. These could apparently best be summarised as “Yeah, but what about PartyGate?”
But there was almost no one there to take them. The Labour benches had been politely full at the start of the debate with MPs keen to see the Hillsborough Bill introduced. They quickly emptied. As first David Davis, then Thornberry, then Kemi Badenoch gave different versions of “Come on, it was Mandelson! And Epstein!”, Labour members slipped one by one from the chamber.
Then up spake brave John Slinger, who would be willing to be captain of the gate or indeed fulfil any other minor ceremonial role the prime minister saw that needed filling. “I am struck,” he said, “by the similarities to the debate that took place over many years concerning the appointment of Mr Andy Coulson.” Up in the gallery, we lit mental cigarettes. Now here was a name we hadn’t heard in a long time. “An appointment which David Cameron consistently said he would not have made if he’d known at the time the information that subsequently came to light.”
His presenting argument was that vetting processes aren’t supposed to dig out hidden emails or evidence of past crimes, but to establish if someone is a blackmail risk. The secondary point was that the Conservatives, too, had also made some really awful hiring decisions. And yet, and here is the flaw in his argument, “our awful hiring decision is just like your awful hiring decision” is not the defence it must have sounded like in Slinger’s head.
On Slinger ploughed, standing alone before the Tory horde. “Dominic Cummings!” he declared. He peered at the words on his iPad, as if wondering whether he could really be reading them right. “It is not new to have these kinds of questions raised. It is certainly not an issue that is specific to this government. They would do well to remember that before they get too high on their horse.”
Poor John. By this stage, people were laughing. “My right honourable friend the Prime Minister is a man of integrity,” he said. Although as others would point out, that integrity had turned out to be fairly flexible when it came to Mandelson. “Ministers and yes, ambassadors are being held to higher standards than previously,” he closed, raising his voice over the heckling, “and I welcome that.”
It wasn’t a terrible speech, and they weren’t terrible points, but they weren’t great. Does Starmer really want the judgement of history to be “no worse than David Cameron”? Sir Edward Leigh, almost kindly, offered some advice: “Do not do the Whips Office’s dirty work for them.” Slinger snapped back: “Please do not patronise me.” Which sounded frankly thin-skinned. Sir Desmond Swayne, in reply, was almost poetic: “Those that lick the feet of the unworthy gain for themselves nothing but a dirty tongue.”
What made Slinger’s speech so noteworthy was that it was the only one from a Labour backbencher in support of the prime minister. No one expected MPs to defend Mandelson or Jeffrey Epstein, but will none of them stand on either hand and defend the government with Slinger? Apparently not.
At the far end of the chamber from Slinger, one of the sheets of helpful interventions lay abandoned. Nothing beside remained. The empty green benches stretched far away.
