How is Boris Johnson getting away with it?

And so a new week begins, and the sky remains unfallen-in. Despite all the government’s promises and threats, Britain did not, after all, leave the European Union last week.

This was eminently predictable. It was apparent to nearly all observers of UK and EU politics for several weeks that the government would miss its deadline. The more interesting element is what it tells us about Boris Johnson and, in particular, the coming election.

On the weekend’s evidence, almost nothing has changed. The threatened ditch did not harm either the prime minister or his poll ratings. A YouGov survey found that 63 per cent of Leave voters did not blame Johnson at all for the delay. This represents a public-relations triumph for the PM. At the time it seemed a foolish strategy to insist that we would leave on the 31st even when it was obvious we would not. Instead it now seems that the public is determined to give Johnson the benefit of the doubt. He has reframed a narrative of deluded belligerence into righteous victimhood.

Part of this is because of Johnson’s opposition. He either escapes scrutiny altogether, or his opponents are not interested in pressing the point. Labour and the Liberal Democrats will not go hard on the issue of the broken pledge because neither of them wanted to leave the EU on 31st October and actively attempted to stop it. Nigel Farage, meanwhile, seems more interested in protesting about the bad deal rather than the broken deadline—and even then seems either unwilling or unable to land a blow.

Part of it is Johnson himself. His carefully cultivated bonhomie has been disarming opponents since his days at the Oxford Union. No other PM could stake both their credibility and premiership on one single promise and emerge unscathed when it publicly fell apart. Theresa May was fatally weakened in similar circumstances. But of course Johnson has form. He has never been held to account for his false promises. His Brexit untruths of £350m for the NHS and imminent Turkish EU membership were both quickly exposed and in return he reaped only personal reward. Other alleged mayoral-era scandals such as the Garden Bridge or Jennifer Arcuri fiascos simply bounce off him. As with Donald Trump, who correctly boasted that he could shoot someone in a New York street and not lose votes, Johnson can simply do no wrong in the eyes of his most devoted supporters.

But of course it is not simply personality that allows Johnson to emerge unruffled by events that would destroy his opponents. This is also a traditional British story of class—or rather, a very specific English manifestation of it. The mythology of Eton and England’s attendant greatness exerts a powerful hold on the national imagination—never more so than when it arrives with a rudimentary sense of humour. A strand of English opinion will mock the ruling class at its most blunt or cartoonish, but reaffirm its profound deference when the ruler’s overpowering contempt for his people is masked by a superficial self-mockery.

Finally, then, the reason Johnson will get away with it is us, the people. He will break every promise, because none of his promises actually matters. In difficult times we no longer demand honesty but reassurance. Johnson’s careless disregard for facts cheers us up. Like the man himself, it adds to the gaiety of the nation. Many people know that things will not get better, so choose to stay amused while they get worse.

Commentators have spoken for many years about a post-truth era, but Brexit has been the first post-truth policy. Put simply, truth is just not that important anymore. Since 2016 a political consensus has hardened not around evidence but feeling. An abstract desire for sovereignty or independence now trumps actual economic figures and indeed jobs—even, frequently, for some members of the public who stand to lose them.

It is easy to forget how recently the economy dominated British elections. In 2015 the public gave the Tories a majority because they thought Labour had spent and borrowed too much money under Gordon Brown and would do the same under Ed Miliband. The most important word of the campaign was not “Brexit” but “deficit.” In 2019, the latter has completely vanished from both the public debate and lexicon.

Four years ago the prospect of increasing debt or economic trouble was enough to terrify voters. These days, mentions of the economy in many of those same voters produce either indifference or defensiveness. The party which used to represent enterprise and prosperity is now led by a man who spluttered “fuck business” and has negotiated a treaty which erects economic barriers both with our largest trade partners and within the UK. The highly-respected think tank NIESR last week concluded that Johnson’s deal would reduce prosperity by 3.5 per cent compared to Remaining, and the right-wing media responded with a collective shrug. It’s anything but the economy, stupid. It no longer matters.

All the things that used to register—facts, the economy, integrity in politicians—have fallen away. Brexit has convulsed our political culture just as Johnson has smashed our political conventions. Perhaps the prime minister’s genius is that he offers his supporters and detractors alike a valued figurehead. All public amusements demand a hero and villain, and Johnson is both. Really it is quite fitting that Brexit’s nationally totemic but entirely meaningless deadline should have come on 31st October. Like Britain, Halloween has ancient and serious origins and now offers the world only light entertainment.