James Kirkup

Power does not corrupt. It reveals. It was once said of Abraham Lincoln: 'Nothing discloses real character like the use of power. It is easy for the weak to be gentle. Most people can bear adversity. But if you wish to know what a man really is, give him power. This is the supreme test. It is the glory of Lincoln that, having almost absolute power, he never abused it, except on the side of mercy.' Dominic Cummings is rarely compared to Abraham Lincoln. But in one aspect, I think that quote now has relevance to the PM’s chief adviser. After surviving this week, he now has power, real and possibly unprecedented power. It’s borrowed power, of course, lent by Boris Johnson. But it’s real.

At times such as these, politicians like to say that 'this is not the time for politics'. Which is not true, of course, because politics never stops, and especially not the politics of personal advancement. Just as sharks must always swim forwards to stay alive, politicians must always be thinking about the next thing, the next job, and the next leader. Here is a question that arises from the current state of politics, the government’s handling of the pandemic, and the general condition of the nation: who will face Rishi Sunak in the next Conservative leadership contest? I have no idea when that contest will come and I make absolutely no guess here. Boris Johnson could vacate the leadership and No. 10 this year or he could rule for a decade.

Every now and then, the House of Commons sees one of those speeches, a moment when an MP, generally a backbencher, speaks with power and clarity and honesty. Speeches that deserve to be heard far beyond parliament, partly because of what they say and partly because of how it’s said. Speeches that give politics a good name. Often these speeches are from relatively new MPs, people who have not yet established their name or reputation beyond the narrow confines of Westminster. A few years ago, Johnny Mercer, then a new member, made one of those speeches when he spoke about his combat experience in Afghanistan. More recently, Rosie Duffield last year brought the Commons to a standstill speaking about her experience of domestic abuse.

It is open season on the Lobby. Social media is full of condemnation for political correspondents over the questions they ask at the daily coronavirus briefing. Polling, private and public, shows that UK trust in media reporting has suffered badly in this crisis. Ministers and officials privately rage about the quality of reporting on much of the coronavirus story. Downing Street has decided to surf that wave of irritation by asking members of the public to submit questions too. That’s a smart move, but one that will come at further cost to the standing of the Lobby in particular. I held a Lobby pass between 2001 and 2017, though I stopped being a regular reporter based in the Palace of Westminster in 2014. The Lobby drove me mad, possibly, for a few months, literally.

Is the SARS-CoV-2 virus comparable to a man who accosts you in the street and tries to steal your phone and wallet? Boris Johnson used the image of virus-as-mugger in his Downing Street statement today: If this virus were a physical assailant, an unexpected and invisible mugger, which I can tell you from personal experience it is, then this is the moment when we have begun together to wrestle it to the floor.And so it follows that this is the moment of opportunity. This is the moment when we can press home our advantage.It is also the moment of maximum risk because I know there will be many people looking now at our apparent success and beginning to wonder whether now is the time to go easy on those social distancing measures.

This week, school starts again, but not in anything like the normal way. Were it not for Covid-19, millions of children would wake tomorrow to the familiar routine: a hurried breakfast, perhaps a panicked search for missing shoes or a stray jumper, then a dash to avoid being late. Instead, what awaits young minds that would otherwise be trying to learn? In this strange new world, where each family and household gamely tries to find its own way from the start of the day to the end, there are probably only two certainties around education. First, the BBC, which tomorrow unveils the biggest slate of educational programmes in its history. Second, the jokes, the social media jokes from parents juggling work and the improvement of the next generation.

Matt Hancock’s badge for carers is a perfectly good idea. The mockery of it is in many cases shallow, ill-informed, revealing and hypocritical. You don’t need me to describe the badge or the mockery. Anyone with an internet connection and a glancing familiarity with what passes for 'news' these days is aware that the Health – and Social Care – Secretary announced that the Government is now backing a scheme that encourages social care staff to wear a green badge saying CARE. Part of the aim is to give care workers the same sort of recognition, esteem and access to services – reserved shopping hours, for instance – as NHS workers. This is reasonable, necessary and overdue.

'Boris is a very tough, very resilient person. … I’m sure he’ll come through this.' That was David Cameron on the Prime Minister. 'I'm confident that he'll pull through because if theres one thing I know, he's a fighter.' That was Dominic Raab. I’m quoting those two simply because they’re the most prominent examples, but there are lots of other people who have spoken of Boris Johnson in similar terms in the last day or so. Those words are well-meant. Both men sincerely wish Johnson the very best, and are speaking as a sign of support and in Cameron’s case, real personal affection. Likewise all the others who have talked about Johnson as 'tough', 'strong', a 'fighter', the sort of person whose personal character will help him 'beat' coronavirus.

Coronavirus commentary often takes a familiar form, which can easily be parodied thus: 'Why the Coronavirus crisis justifies the thing I was arguing for before the crisis.' I mention this because this article could, I suppose, be written off in that way. It is a column of praise for technocratic, wonkish politician-managers written by someone who runs a centrist think-tank. I would say this, wouldn’t I? Well, perhaps, but I will say it anyway: the coronavirus crisis is reminding us that we should, once again, value politicians whose primary skill is understanding, gripping and managing complicated stuff and whose inclination is to put that management ahead of appealing to the emotions of voters. By way of evidence, I offer you Matt Hancock and Rishi Sunak.

In some ways, it’s easy and even important to keep Rishi Sunak’s performance in announcing his coronavirus job retention scheme in perspective. It should, after all, be pretty easy to be popular in politics when you are offering to spend literally limitless amounts of money protecting people from economic hardship. A cynic would also say that it’s relatively easy to look grave and statesmanlike when you’re standing next to a prime minister who can still look more inclined to play Prince Hal than Henry V. But even taking those things into account, I still consider Sunak’s performance one of the most impressive I’ve seen from a British politician in more than 20 years in and around Westminster.

Even if the Covid-19 coronavirus does not become a mass killer on the scale of, say, the Spanish Flu in 1918, the mere possibility of such severity still carries huge weight. Just the potential for a disastrous pandemic demands a response whose seriousness and nature will have political and social implications. Even in this first week of the full UK response, some of those implications are clearly visible. And some of the inferences and lessons that can be drawn from this week are, to my mind, quite positive - small points of light in a dark and threatening sky, if you like. 1.