Chaos theory

Picture: Jessica Taylor/Twitter/@Jess__Taylor__

I would normally run a country mile to stay out of politics, but having been confined to a hospital bed for the last 19 days, with only Sky News and reruns of Minder to occupy the mind, it’s been hard not to be absorbed by the maelstrom consuming Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson. His defensive line, and that of the ministerial stooges sent out to bat for him, has been that the rows over how the Downing Street flat redecoration was paid for, whether or not he'd allegedly said “let the bodies pile high in their thousands” to avoid another lockdown, the Dyson text affair and even the Greensill lobbying scandal, are all of little national consequence. Johnson and his acolytes, whenever pressed, have pushed the message that outside the Westminster bubble none of this political ‘rough and tumble’ counts, and that most people are more interested in their COVID jabs and getting a holiday abroad this year.

Westminster is, I’d agree, invariably an introspective pit of self-absorbtion. One of the most bizarre aspects of the government response to the pandemic has been the Downing Street press conferences, wherein Boris or the minister-du-jour gives a scripted speech, hands over to the experts for slides, then invites a couple of pre-recorded questions from Joe Public before facing scrutiny from the working media. Those with a mistrust of journalists have objected to the provocative questioning from heavyweight, if divisive, politicos like the BBC’s Laura Kuenssberg or Sky’s Beth Rigby, regarding them as irrelevant when pitched after enquiries from regular folk about when they’ll be able to hug Granny again. But as self-serving as the media scrutiny can be, the chaos currently surrounding Boris underlines the fundamental importance of being able to hold politicians to account.

When you take a step back from the micro dramas swirling around Johnson, a picture emerges of a character whose leadership appears pinned to charisma alone, rather than any discernible management skill. For as long as he's been in public office, his blathering, Eton-educated P.G.Wodehouse persona depicted in his hapless guest hosting experience of Have I Got News For You? has projected a form of eccentricity that has masked whatever strength he might actually bring to the party. Moreover, it has certainly exposed his myriad weaknesses. But something got him into power; something has appealed to voters, repeatedly, to get him elected, first as an MP, then mayor of London, and latterly prime minister. Even factoring in the Brexit pledge that was central to his 2019 general election victory, you have to conclude that the public is either enamoured by Johnson’s appeal or brazenly immune to his deficiencies.

Picture: Jessica Taylor/Twitter/@Jess_Taylor_

Read any profile of Boris and the image of a bumbling but slightly endearing prat has been his perennial schtick. I encountered him myself in Copenhagen a few years ago when I was attending the COP17 climate change conference, and he was there as London mayor. Unlike the pomp and ceremony that accompanied Barrack Obama (who flew in on Air Force One with the usual presidential entourage and city-wide security lockdown), or even Prince Charles, who turned up with a vast supporting army including his own film crew, I ran into Boris shuffling about on his own, anorak and copious backpack making him look more like a misplaced tourist at Kings Cross station. There are stories aplenty of his financial woes and frugality, though this seems more about disorganisation rather than any fundamental regard for economy. As editor of The Spectator, Johnson reportedly asked interns to fetch him vending machine coffees without paying for them. Another story, concerning a dinner for former Daily Telegraph editor Bill Deedes, saw Boris allegedly welch on the £40 everyone had been asked to cough up to cover the bill. Such fiscal absent mindedness is matched by the dysfunction in Johnson’s private life, what with claims of serial womanising - inside and outside of marriage - and questions about how many children he has actually fathered. Again, this can be regarded as tittle-tattle, irrelevant to professional performance, but without taking a moralising tone, you start to accumulate a picture of someone singularly incapable of running a bath, let alone the country.

Hypothetically, transplant Boris out of public life and into the private sector: if he was the CEO of a quoted company it would be hard to imagine any board of directors having much stomach for the drip-drip-drip of reputation-damaging antics. Some CEOs sort of get away with apparent zaniness - Richard Branson and Ryanair’s Michael O’Leary spring instantly to mind - but while the photo ops might be good for PR, reputation matters. Attritional reputational damage can, over time, erode a brand, impacting both investor and consumer sentiment (viz. G. Ratner). I’ve worked professionally in this area a long time, and have been embroiled in various exercises in damage-limitation, though thankfully, nothing along the same lines that 10 Downing Street and Conservative Central Office will be enduring right now. My experience has been mostly confined to addressing media speculation about M&A gossip and the occasional executive slip-up. If done right, corporate communications functions are well prepared. Own goals can mostly be avoided, even if that means putting up executives who have been media trained to within an inch of their lives. Authenticity does count, as does honesty. In a crisis the advice is always to get your arms around the problem quickly, and to communicate 'little and often'. That does not seem to be the approach being applied by Boris. The chaos that has, for as long as he’s been in the public eye, surrounded him like the dust cloud around Pig-Pen in the Peanuts cartoons, has been allowed to develop. Perhaps deliberately, as if to project some sort of flawed genius, but we’re now at a point where all these streams of dysfunction are meeting at the same delta. We’ve gone from ‘wacky Boris’, dangling from a zipwire in a publicity stunt for the 2012 Olympics, to own goals that seriously question his integrity, and which are not being resolved by obfuscation and the defensive line that no-one outside Westminster cares about it all.

Richard Nixon was ultimately undone by Watergate. The very real prospect of Boris being undone by the relative triviality of new wallpaper is ridiculous. It is now being seen, on top of the ‘bodies’ story and the Greensill claims, as being the worst of his offences and, now the Electoral Commission has stepped in, even raising the prospect of criminal charges if it is found that Johnson has breached rules of disclosure. No one can deny a prime minister the right to customise their home above the shop (and everyone entering the office gets a £30,000 grant to do so), but without knowing who commissioned what, to be undone by claims of “illegal” donations for having the flat tarted up is farcical self-injury. But, then, it does fit in to another pattern of behaviour - Boris’s love of vanity projects. As London mayor he spaffed millions on the failed ‘garden bridge’ project and plans for the ‘Boris Island’ airport in the Thames Estuary. As prime minister, he’s spent £2.5 million on a new press conference suite in Downing Street in the middle of the COVID-induced financial crisis, while there are strong rumours that he wants to commission a replacement for the royal yacht Britannia as a platform for driving international trade. Then there was the expensive repainting of one of the RAF’s Voyager tanker-cum-transport aircraft so that it flies the flag, Air Force One-style, when shipping VIPs abroad (meaning that when the plane is on military refuelling duties, it’s bright white colour scheme with red-white-and-blue tail fin is in stark contrast to the standard grey paint for the RAF’s combat aircraft). All PR stunts, to some extent.

Picture: Jessica Taylor/Twitter/@Jess_Taylor_

Are all these items erroneous? Not necessarily, but they still point to a Boris Johnson more concerned with trivialities than more important matters of state. And the fact that some of them harm or at least bruise his reputation goes hand in hand with other weaknesses in his leadership, not the least of which being the assembly of a Cabinet populated by lightweights like Priti Patel, Gavin Williamson, Grant Shapps and Liz Truss, plus the walking anachronism that is Jacob Rees-Mogg. All were seemingly appointed in reward for their Brexit loyalty rather than any notable administrative quality. And, then, there was the appointment and staunch endorsement of Dominic Cummings, even through the Barnard Castle debacle seriously undermined Johnson’s own “Stay home. Protect the NHS. Save lives” slogan.

Again, to make the corporate analogy, there’s not a company in the world that could endure such constant aggravation, even in the most unexpected of business crises. Shit happens in any life, private or public, but character and leadership are the most important aspects of ensuring your stakeholders are on board with you. Perhaps Boris likes to see himself as a maverick (along with the much-discussed notion that he is Winston Churchill-incarnate). Perhaps he is a maverick. There is sometimes a borderline between these states of being. You can never tell whether a Liam Gallagher or John Lydon are deliberately awkward, revelling saying “Boo!” (or worse) aggressively, or whether it’s a just a confected image. You could ask the same of Boris: is the dishevelled hair and the hopeless bobble hat-and-shorts jogging combo concocted to endear himself, or is that just a what-you-see-is-what-you-get statement? Maybe. But like it or not, image does count. And the hair and saggy suits merely add to the apparent cavalier attitude Boris consistently applies across most other aspects of his life. 

Little of this is, to my knowledge or, for that matter, anyone else’s, of real consequence. No one - even Her Majesty’s Opposition - believes that Boris is a bad person per se. Even if the Electoral Commission finds that offences have been committed over the Lulu Lytle wallpaper, it’s hardly worthy of carting him off to Belmarsh. But add it all up - the petty misdemeanours, gaffes, dysfunction, chaos and, yes, a propensity for dishonesty - and you have to objectively question whether Boris Johnson is fit to serve. He might be a colourful figurehead, but he's also governing the world’s fifth largest economy, a G7 member and one of five permanent members of the United Nations Security Council. If he can’t organise the redecoration of his grace-and-favour flat within the correct transparency protocols, how is he expected to have his finger on the nuclear button? I’ll just leave that there.

The longest road accident in history - and it’s not over yet

Picture: BBC

It is Friday, by my reckoning, which means it is now a week since news surfaced that Prince Andrew, Duke of York, KG, GCVO, CD, ADC(P) and Vice-Admiral, Royal Navy, had granted the BBC an interview that would hopefully clarify his relationship with the now-deceased paedophile Jeffrey Epstein. One week on, the news cycle shows no signs of abatement. In the interim, Andrew’s interview with Newsnight’s Emily Maitlis has gone to air and, rather than quelling interest in his association with Epstein, has opened up a whole world of hurt about the duke’s lifestyle, expenditure, domestic arrangements and health, and afforded Woking a publicity jaunt that it was rather hoping would have just been provided by the launch of the Beeb’s new dramatisation of The War Of The Worlds, which kicks off just outside the Surrey town.

Standard Operating Procedure for anyone in the PR business is that when a reputational crisis breaks, you do all you can to reduce its impact, to diminish its effect, to get a grip on the news agenda and hopefully tackle the subject matter so that it runs out of steam of its own accord. Well, that’s the theory. What has happened with Prince Andrew is the media equivalent of an Atlantic hurricane gaining strength and even acquiring new energy somewhere over the Azores. The big difference is that normally such storms are reduced to torrential rain and winds causing disruption to the rail network by the time they reach British shores. In the case of Andrew, this tropical depression has spiralled out of control.

As someone who has spent the last 25 years (bar the last month or two...) in corporate communications it’s easy to be the ‘Monday morning quarterback’ on a story like this. But, sometimes, a crisis is so heaving that it never goes away. That is probably where we are in the case of Prince Andrew. Those of us who ply their trade in PR will have been in nodding unison over the last seven days at how all of the best-practice wisdoms of the industry have been blown into the gutter like autumn leaves as Andrew's attempt to repair his reputation backfired spectacularly. Indeed, anyone (including me) who has crowbarred into a PowerPoint presentation Warren Buffet's much used quote about reputations taking 20 years to build and 20 minutes to destroy will have been grinning sagely at the smarts of such a notion of the fragility of public perception.

It must start with the decision in the first place to do the interview with Maitlis. 2019 is clearly turning out to be another annus horribilis for the Royal Family, what with the Duke of Edinburgh’s automotive tribulations, his grandson Harry’s self-declared war on the media (somewhat justified, given the weirdly obsessive attention afforded he and Meghan by the Mail group turning themselves inside-out to find another angle) and the reporting of a certain froideur between the Cambridge and Sussex households. The last thing the 93-year-old Queen needed was her somewhat casual second (and, it is rumoured, favourite) son becoming embroiled in an association with a particularly repellent individual like Epstein, replete with compromising photographs of the duke with his arm apparently around the waist of Virginia Guiffre, née Roberts, who, she alleges, was trafficked by Epstein for the sexual gratification of his associates (“He knows what he has done,” she has said of Andrew, whose own comment on the alleged incident was: “It didn’t happen. I can absolutely categorically tell you it never happened”). In the words of Dickie Arbiter, the veteran royal correspondent and former Buckingham Palace spokesperson, it was an “excruciating” interview. “My guess is that he bulldozed his way in and decided he was going to do it himself without any advice,” he told the BBC. “Any sensible-thinking person in the PR business would have thrown their hands up in horror.”

Picture: BBC

This is not the first time that a member of the royal family has been embroiled in foul matters of the flesh (and that story about the true identity of Jack The Ripper has never really gone away), and given the track record of all our monarchs and their scions over the centuries, ‘Randy’ Andy’s alleged behaviour as the party prince will probably pale by historic comparison. Not that I’m endorsing or apologising for anything he is supposed to have done. But moral judgements aside, the bit I’m most interested in is the decision to take up the BBC’s offer of an interview to begin with. Ever since the first stories appeared of Andrew’s relationship with Epstein, there wouldn’t have been a television channel, radio station, newspaper, magazine or website that wouldn’t have wanted an opportunity to ask the prince to explain himself on the record. But even with the interest - and coverage - reaching cacophony level in recent weeks, even giving Harry and Meghan some respite from their own battles with the press, there was still no reason to cave in. 

Rightly or wrongly, the royals are never like us. They’re not meant to be approachable, accessible. They’re meant to exist as noble national figureheads. The accountability that other public figures - politicians, business leaders, senior clergy - are expected to provide has never been in the royal brief. So, whatever internal PR advice within Buckingham Palace was being offered or even imposed, someone - perhaps Andrew himself - stupidly ignored it and mistakenly agreed to sit down with Maitlis, some months, we understand, since Newsnight first proposed that they did.

If this was a choice based on the fact that alternatives - the atrocious egomaniac that is Piers Morgan comes immediately to mind - would have given an even more pugilistic encounter, they were patently wrong. In fact, Maitlis, a formidable interviewer, gave Andrew a fairly measured ride. And yet still he messed it up, chortling in some of his replies to serious questions about his friendship with Epstein, and making trite remarks about how he “kicks himself daily” for not ending the relationship sooner. And, still, no contrition at all about those Epstein is alleged to have trafficked and facilitated the abuse of, including the as-yet unexplained relationship with Guiffre-Roberts, who has recorded a BBC Panorama interview that is only going to extend the news cycle into a second full week. 

It was without doubt one of the worst interviews ever given by a public figure trying to extricate himself from scandal. In the meantime, Andrew has been withdrawn/is withdrawing from public duties. To all intents and purposes, his mum has sacked him, albeit - we read - with his elder brother’s influence. Charles, currently on a royal tour in New Zealand, could not have been flying the flag at a worse time. And with the Queen gradually handing over greater responsibility to her heir, it presented him with an opportunity to exert his authority. This might sound like fratricide, or even the sort of Machiavellian politics normally found in an episode of The Sopranos, but it perhaps proves that the House of Windsor has learned from the anni horribiles of 1992 and 1997 - the former being the original of the species, the latter being the year of Princess Diana’s death. As grim as those periods were, the royal family learned vital lessons in how they managed their PR, with the Queen herself proving to be more of a moderniser than anyone gave her credit for. And that includes her appearance with Daniel Craig in that James Bond skit for the London Olympics. 

The Queen’s decisive action to fire her own son is brutal, but effectively smashes the glass to put out a real fire that was in danger of doing serious damage to the entire royal operation. We might have sympathy for Andrew, but ultimately his lifestyle, and seemingly directionless career since he left the Royal Navy in 2001, brought this on himself. Choosing to address it on camera was the mistake that unravelled it. It certainly wouldn’t have been my advice to a CEO, knowing that the media properties of the notoriously republican Murdoch and Rothermere families would have erupted into a feeding frenzy that stupidly even managed to knock a general election no one wanted off the front pages. Actually, make that the front several pages, and counting. A week later.

Last Sunday, the front page headlines chimed in unison: “Not one single word of remorse” (Mail on Sunday), “No sweat . . . no regret” (Sunday Mirror), and “I didn’t have sex with a teen, I was at home after a pizza party” (Observer). A week on and even the normally impassive Times has run ten separate stories today on the duke’s denouement, including new angles and the outcome of a YouGov survey revealing that only 6% of the 1600 people questioned believed Andrew was telling the truth. No wonder corporate sponsors of the duke’s various philanthropic ventures have been quietly and not-so quietly walking away.

Now, that is precisely what Andrew himself needs to do. His brutal removal from frontline royal duties means that he will now be reduced to cameos on the Buckingham Palace balcony during Trooping The Colour, though I imagine plans are already in place to smuggle him in to church on Christmas Day for The Firm’s traditional outing en masse. But, to return to the central premise of this post, it’s about PR, not royal duty. Andrew’s actions have affected the corporate reputation of the royal family, and that, in corporate or regal life, cannot be countenanced. The story isn’t over, still, with the very real risk of US investigators probing Epstein and his associates looming. “If push came to shove and the legal advice was to do so, then I would be duty bound to do so [be investigated],” Andrew told Maitlis in the interview. Again, no contrition, just a man sinking ever further into quicksand that was quite demonstrably signposted.