We Could Be Heroes 

We are all, it is said, the heroes of our own lives. The world is merely the stage which allows us to strut our stuff. Other people serve as extras to reflect glory on the main character; events, the fuel with which we cement our heroic status.

But heroes are competent. Tom Cruise did not produce seven Mission Impossible films in which Ethan Hunt aspired to mediocrity. He produced a series which, as it wound its way to an increasingly messianic end, made it clear that Tom was all that stood between civilisation and barbarism. That it is rumoured that the final stage of scientology contains the revelation that Tom is actually Jesus may, or may not, have something to do with this fictional arc.

Last week, David Lammy tweeted that he was “proud to be the first Black person to answer at Prime Minister’s Questions”. Which caused many already sceptical of his general knowledge to question his command of English. For, as you may remember, he produced a large amount of verbiage, little to none of which seemed to relate to what he had been asked. Plenty of bombast, plenty of insults, increasing amounts of anger, but if words came there many, answers came there none.

The possibility that a migrant might have been released in error from prison just didn’t seem to be something the Justice Secretary wanted to talk about, no matter how often he was asked. Nor has he shown any greater willingness subsequently, not returning to the House to correct the record.

This may be regrettable, but it is not surprising. Mr Lammy is a man of a certain ego who, it is said, now likes to be addressed as Deputy Prime Minister (Titles do not reflect honour on men, rather men reflect honour on their titles…). As Justice Secretary, he is responsible for prisons. The accidental release of an inmate or two (or 200, who’s counting?) might be taken as evidence that he wasn’t doing a very good job, perhaps even that he wasn’t up to the job. But Mr Lammy is also a hero (to himself) and incompetence is just not very heroic. Better not to allow that serpent into Eden and attack, deflect and distract.

The question of Mr Lammy’s competence must, at the moment, remain undecided. There is little in his previous life to give us much hope, but he has been in post for just a few months. Justice may turn out to be his thing in a way in which foreign policy and the numbering of English monarchs was not. Time will tell. But we must admit he is lucky.

For not only did the escapees return to custody reasonably quickly, but a scandal blew up in the BBC which knocked the boss of prison bosses off the front pages. The British media loves nothing more than a story about Aunty. It allows the Corporation to indulge in its favourite activity – talking about itself – and it allows other parts of the system to indulge in theirs – putting the boot into a better resourced monopoly rival. Everyone’s a winner. Except the viewer.

The BBC, a report revealed, had displayed bias over the Israel/Gaza conflict, over the trans issue and had edited a speech by Donald Trump so that he appeared to say what the programme-makers wanted him to say, but not what he had actually said.

I am no journalist (as you know, having read this far), but even I realise that the latter is just not on. Many high profile journalists, it transpired, did not; the weekend media being dominated by household names going “full Lammy”. The BBC is under attack by nasty right-wingers. It’s a conspiracy by shadowy figures. The BBC is a national treasure. It makes Strictly. Foreigners watch it. If they give in, Donald Trump and Boris Johnson will be happy. The horror. The horror.

As with the Deputy Prime Minister (as he likes to be known), there was little attempt to deal with, or even acknowledge, the underlying problem. That the nation’s “trusted news source” had been caught misleading the nation, seemed trivial in comparison to the fact that it was under attack.

For, like the Deputy Prime Minister (as he likes to be known), the BBC is an organisation with a certain ego. It is a global beacon of impartiality and quality [it also broadcasts Mrs Brown’s Boys…]. It is “Our” BBC as it has spent several million pounds telling us. If a media company could be a hero, it would look a lot like the organisation in Broadcasting House.

One of the sadder realisations of growing up is that it is not incumbent on anyone to share our self-image. Tom Cruise may believe he is the messiah (he may not), but to most, he is just an actor who is ageing uncommonly well. David Lammy (the Deputy Prime Minister as he likes to be known) may see himself as a political colossus, others just a man fortuitously promoted beyond any discernible talent. The BBC may see itself as a global barrier against barbarism, to others it is just a media company which produces some good stuff and Mrs Brown’s Boys. “Ours” only in the sense that Sainsbury’s is “our” supermarket, Waterstones “our” bookshop and BP “our” supplier of petroleum products.

To those not personally invested, they are not heroes; just bit players in our lives, part of the scenery against which the true hero’s story unfolds. And because they are not heroes, we do not expect them to be infallible (even if we might prefer them to be slightly more competent). They are just normal flawed human beings or institutions staffed by normal flawed human beings who, unlike us, get some things right but also produce Mrs Brown’s Boys.

Every country in which I have lived has had a state broadcaster. Only Britain’s has held itself out as the Eighth Wonder of the World. Other politicians are capable of acknowledging that a failure has occurred before seeking to blame others for it. But that requires a commitment to living in the reality-based community. An acknowledgement that reality gets the final say. An ability, as Tom was once told, to “handle the truth”.

In reality, this is harder to pull off than it looks. We are all, as we noted, heroes to ourselves (if not our valets…). What I regard as Nobel-quality writing may put you in mind of Lady Wortley Montague’s quip to Jonathan Swift “I’m glad you write, twill furnish paper when I sh***”. That is your (sadly mistaken) look-out. Difficult though it may be, it is worth the effort. There is little less heroic than trying to appear a hero. Just ask Don Quixote.

Stewart Slater works in Finance. He invites you to join him at his website.

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(Photograph: Lauren Hurley / No 10 Downing Street, OGL 3 <http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/doc/open-government-licence/version/3>, via Wikimedia Commons)

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