Fear, suspicion and venality: hancock was hoist by his own petard | thearticle

It has taken a while, but Boris Johnson has finally faced some competition from his Cabinet. After two years of sycophancy, one of his ministers has, albeit only for a few days, broken ranks

and made himself, to many, the greatest philanderer in government. Public anger at this figure for having the effrontery to be found so compromised finally forced the Prime Minister to

restore order. Now the minister is gone, and eventually the public will realise again who really wins the prize for the most nefarious private life round Whitehall. The competition did not

last. This is, of course, a rather kinder version of the resignation of Matthew Hancock than Boris Johnson deserves. In less baffling times, the very sight of a senior minister being caught

in the Clinch with someone who is not his current wife would have caused some kind of uproar in the body politic and the nation, deserved or not. Add to this the facts that it was all

performed during working hours in a government department, that the woman with whom he was conversing was a long-term friend on the taxpayer’s payroll, and that the minister happened to be

the Secretary of State for Health during a period where not only was a pandemic dominating the life of this minister and the nation, but one where the rules imposed by this specific minister

were then so flagrantly broken by such a super-spreading embrace, and the machine of government should have had Hancock out of his job quicker than you can say “Hands, Face, Space”. Or

perhaps that should be “Buttock”. Yet to swiftly laugh away the Hancock-saga (no, “Cockgate” is not funny or original) would be to miss the truth staring the former Secretary of State in his

seductive face: that his rule has left us with a country consumed by the draconian rules he imposed. Much seemed reminiscent of the Cummings sojourn last year; in a less fear-ridden

country, the sight of a special adviser retreating to a family home to protect his vulnerable child would not blow up into a national scandal. The lockdown rules, in their sweeping insanity,

meant that it did. The same reality came back to fatally bite Hancock; if the pictures revealed on The Sun’s front page were not enough, then the court of public opinion would certainly

find him guilty on the more serious charge of daring to risk spreading disease when so enraptured. Perhaps, in a moment of selfishness, Mr Hancock will come to regret lambasting those who

broke his laws, given that the culture of a national Neighbourhood Watch was so fast to convict him. Maybe he will begin to look again at the sanity of his measures in the first place. The

list of lockdown casualties in public life seems to get more bloated and irrational by the day. First there was Cummings, then it was the turn of safety supremo Neil Ferguson, before

journalists such as Beth Rigby and Kay Burley were dragged before the squeals of mass disrepute. The instant response to such perceived crimes was a call for resignation, for each single

mistake to be the recall of any authority and for their careers to be placed, as Hancock’s has now been, in possibly permanent quarantine. Whether you approve of the lockdown measures or

not, to respond merely with schadenfreude to last week’s news would be to enhance such a puritanical slide in public opinion. For those who speak of “cancel culture”, there seems to be

little talk of a Covid culture which has ensnared many with an equally vicious streak and the same screams of the mob. Indeed, the BBC led on Friday with a piece of brilliant investigative

journalism by revealing that both Hancock and Gina Coladangelo had “broken social distancing guidelines”, after the video of the tryst was released. For most, this act of hypocrisy was the

most damning factor of the affair, not the part of Hancock having deceived his wife and three children, all of whom he has now suddenly left. He was doomed to exile by the same forces of

instant anger and inquisition his work had done so much to foment. Of course, Hancock’s authority as the main ringleader of the forces of lockdown compliance was destroyed by his

indiscretion. Yet the latter pales in comparison to the list of failures over the last eighteen months which should have compelled him to quit long before. This is, let us not forget, the

same man who licensed the mass ejections of elderly people from hospitals, without tests, to the care homes where they would face a hotbed of infections last March, and who authorised the

enforced imprisonment of elderly residents inside their homes six months later. It is the same minister who put his own political ambitions above those of his public by rejecting long-term

testing policies so that he could shower gold on himself at a press conference, and who insulted the law by declaring that that those making an undisclosed visit to certain countries could

face a greater prison sentence than those found guilty of child sexual offences and racially-aggravated assault. It was the same measures he avidly upheld which so easily invaded the

personal lives of millions by prohibiting singles starting a relationship for months on end, let alone enjoying the intimacy he had with Ms Coladangelo. After such a shamelessly malicious

time in office, his banishment for a sneaky snog against his office door can provoke only laughter. Hancock is following in a distinguished line of fellow Westminster lotharios, from Cecil

Parkinson and John Major to Robin Cook and Ron Davies. The ministerial affair is an institution which should remain sacrosanct, but has instead become yet another casualty of our latent

collective authoritarianism. Before, it was the voices of moral righteousness and good old British values who decried each ministerial misstep. Now it is the different apostles of

safety-first who lecture us with their equally tedious monotone. It seems unlikely that Matt Hancock will be making a hasty return to public life. It is not too spiteful to say that all our

lives will be better for it; at least Sajid Javid will provide a fresher face for the next doom-laden news briefings. Yet I cannot help but feel a flush of remorse for Hancock, who has

merely sinned in the realm of those family values which his party purportedly extols. Yet being lectured by Boris Johnson on fidelity is like being told off for being a bore by Ted Heath;

Hancock was not acting wholly out of order, given his boss’ record. In the end, he was merely the victim of the climate of fear, suspicion and venality which sums up his own actions pretty

well. If anything has changed, it is really only the word emphasis in his boss’s judgement: “Totally fucking hopeless.” A MESSAGE FROM THEARTICLE _We are the only publication that’s

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