When Donald Trump decided to withdraw troops from Syria, the Today programme held an interview to address the situation. Sitting in the studio and offering comment on the government’s strategy was not the Prime Minister, or the Foreign Secretary Dominic Raab, or a junior minister in his team – or even anyone who attended Cabinet. It was Jeremy Hunt, who no longer held any role in government.
The story around the BBC’s Millbank offices was that Dominic Cummings, newly enshrined within Downing Street as a sort of executive super-spad, had ordered a boycott of the show and enforced a temporary ban on ministerial engagement.
Being denied access to a minister by an officious young spad is nothing new for political reporters. On any given day producers will spend hours attempting to flatter relevant politicians into studio chairs. Some are cagey and require persuading like John McDonnell; others, like Chuka Ummuna, will jump at the chance for any sort of press coverage at all.
Political broadcasts often operate with only a single day’s preparation: issues arise in the news, suitable guests are immediately pitched and briefs are drawn up for presenters. But during the last few years this process became increasingly haphazard as the number of credible political voices diminished with every passing week.
The main reason for this is, of course, the all-pervasive issue of Brexit and the pressure it has put upon MPs and journalists alike. Traditionally, Westminster voices in opposition are especially keen for any opportunity to show their constituents how involved they are in the political machinations of the day, and only too glad to comment on the misdeeds of the incumbent party.
But Brexit has cast a strange spell on party politics and forced many politicians into a dilemma that belies conventional left/right distinctions. To comment publicly on Theresa May’s government was to comment on her deal or her negotiations. Very few MPs could afford to alienate one half of the Brexit debate and even if their constituency might have permitted it, their party whip might not.
As such, the task of the political producer – to drum up panels of relevant and interested politicians for public debate – became almost impossible. Broadly speaking, there were only two types of guests for producers to choose from: Brexiteer evangelists or slick and power-hungry London Remainers. That the discussion surrounding Brexit should be conducted from these two extremes has become accepted as a sort of national truth, but it certainly doesn’t reflect the real make-up of Parliament or the country.
Both sides of our desperately stretched Overton window managed to whip up a virulent caricature of their opposition, then more or less contented themselves by tweeting about it for a few years. There are far more MPs and commentators with level-headed approaches to Brexit than anyone following our press coverage would imagine: we just couldn’t get them in front of a camera.
