In the recent maelstrom of televised political debates, Conservative cabinet minister Penny Mordaunt’s unequivocal condemnation of Prime Minister Rishi Sunak’s actions at the D-Day events serves as a splendid illustration of how words, particularly when uttered in a charged context, can reverberate far beyond their immediate moment. Mordaunt’s pronouncement that Sunak’s decision to leave the commemorations early was “completely wrong” was not merely a casual aside but a declaration that resounded through the political world, elevating her to both judge and jury of her own leader.
One must consider the setting: a national television debate amidst the fevered run-up to a general election. Mordaunt’s words were not confined to a private conversation or a minor speech; they were broadcast to millions, amplified by the collective outrage already simmering over Sunak’s perceived disrespect. Her attempt to distance herself from the Prime Minister may have aimed at quelling the negative story, but instead, it entrenched her betrayal in the eyes of Tory supporters and indelibly scarred Sunak’s leadership. Mordaunt miscalculated the public and media interest level during a general election, thereby exacerbating the impact of her comments.
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Do not misinterpret my words. I happen to think that Penny Mordaunt would have been a formidable adversary for Labour had she been selected instead of Liz Truss and Rishi Sunak, and I wrote about it here at the time. Perhaps the skullduggery that thwarted her ambitions a few years ago led to her strident behaviour in the debate, but timing, as always, is everything in politics.
This phenomenon is far from new. History brims with instances where words spoken at pivotal moments have defined political destinies. Take, for example, John F. Kennedy’s invocation of the “New Frontier” in his 1960 acceptance speech at the Democratic Convention. This laid the groundwork for a presidency characterised by ambition and challenge. His words were not mere rhetoric but a call to action that resonated with a generation, shaping his administration’s policies and inspiring initiatives like the Peace Corps and the moon landing.
Conversely, words can also become a self-imposed trap, as illustrated by Barry Goldwater’s 1964 acceptance speech. His declaration that “extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice” played directly into the hands of his opponents, who painted him as a dangerous threat to world peace. This misstep, magnified by the charged atmosphere of the convention, contributed significantly to his electoral downfall at the hands of LBJ. Though aired only once, “the daisy” ad is considered one of the most important factors in Johnson’s landslide victory and a turning point in political advertising history.
Perhaps the most infamous use of words that dramatically impacted a UK politician was that of Enoch Powell. His “Rivers of Blood” speech, in which he declared, “Like the Roman, I see the Tiber foaming with much blood,” cast him into the political wilderness and led to his departure from the Conservative Party. Powell’s dire predictions and inflammatory rhetoric on race relations forever marked him as a pariah in British politics, demonstrating the perilous power of words.
Penny Mordaunt’s comments, therefore, are not merely a defensive position after a bad day but a profound act of political theatre. By publicly condemning her leader’s actions, she has cast herself as a moral arbiter, a role that will not be easily forgotten. Her words, repeated and scrutinised on national television, have ensured that Sunak’s decision—and her denunciation of it—will linger in the public consciousness, shaping perceptions and loyalties long after the debate has faded from the news cycle.
Ultimately, Mordaunt’s attempt to navigate the turbulent waters of political scandal by distancing herself from Sunak has backfired spectacularly. Rather than closing down the negative story, she has cemented it in the annals of political history. Conservative supporters may view her actions as an unforgivable act of betrayal, and Sunak will find it nigh impossible to escape the shadow of her condemnation. In politics, as in life, words wield unparalleled power, and those spoken in the crucible of crisis or the spotlight of an election can alter the course of history.
I am heartily struck by what I am hearing in my new neighbourhood. I moved out of London last summer to a nearly exclusively white area - high levels of home ownership - Thatcher’s 1980s newly minted heartland, solidly Tory. The narrative here bears no resemblance to your narrative, Tom, I’m afraid. Vocal condemnation of Sunak’s behaviour (some of it more than melodramatic, but most has sounded sincere and genuinely outraged). Penny Mordaunt: her stock has risen considerably around here, for voicing what many people think and are angry about.
I appreciate that your entirely accurate assessment of her having shown disloyalty is what a measured assessment concludes. But what the Party elite (centrally and locally in the constituencies) think about it versus what the core ordinary Tory voters think seems, locally to me, to be very divergent.
Roll on a Labour victory - Starmer is the first Labour leader since Gordon Brown who has convinced me to return to the fold - but I know that I will still be stuck with a Tory MP round here.
The narrative misses a very significant point! The moral aspect of representing the views of many in that the PM (not) PM! clearly and obviously got it wrong. Failure to acknowledge this would have shown her lacking the backbone to say what we (you) are accusing politicians of! Failing to answer the obvious! I doubt she has got anything wrong, and even as a supporter of the PM, I applaud the integrity of PM in her own decision, even if it was damaging!