Johnny Mercer was never a politician willing to toe the line for advancement

The spectacular resignation of Johnny Mercer, which briefly diverted Westminster from contemplating the contents of Boris Johnson’s mobile phone earlier this week, puts him in a small category of politicians whose devotion to a cause has ended their rise up the greasy pole of ministerial rank.

It’s by no means unheard of for ministers to resign on a point of principle or disagreement with a particular government policy.

But few MPs identify themselves so clearly with a single issue that stands above party loyalties or personal advancement.

Frank Field’s parliamentary career was a crusade against poverty long after his devotion to welfare reform saw him dumped out of Tony Blair’s government. David Davis forfeited a likely role in David Cameron’s cabinet by resigning his seat to campaign for civil liberties. Tracey Crouch decided she could not stay in a government that she felt was dragging its heels over problem gambling.

For former army captain Mercer, the issue that stood above all others was the treatment of armed forces veterans, and in particular the failure to protect troops from what he regarded as vexatious prosecutions for alleged actions decades ago in Northern Ireland during the Troubles.

When the province was excluded from new protections for ex-service personnel in the Overseas Operations Bill, the minister for veterans informed his whip that he intended to resign at the despatch box as the legislation was debated in the Commons.

Unsurprisingly, the prime minister decided not to give him this opportunity to grandstand, and he was unceremoniously “sacked by text” message, following a strategic series of leaks suggesting he was about to go.

The result was an explosive series of interviews in which he branded the atmosphere within government “awful”, politics a “cesspit” and the people around Johnson liars.

In many ways, the manner of his departure was fitting to the man, as he was never an identikit politician willing to toe the line in return for advancement.

Arriving in parliament in 2015 two years after retiring from military service, Mercer was open about the fact that he had never been a political person, saying that the first time he ever voted was for himself.

His motivation for getting into parliament, he said, was to improve care for veterans whose struggles with mental health he felt politicians were willing to ignore, despite praising the military and attending Remembrance Day parades.

Quickly identified as a high-profile member of the 2015 intake, he became a close ally of Johnson, backing him strongly for the leadership in the 2019 battle to succeed Theresa May. Johnson would reportedly hug the Afghanistan veteran in a “you and me against the world” way.

For many MPs, that would be the foundation for an extended period in office. But for Mercer it remained a means to an end, and his frustration at being unable to deliver was increasingly visible.

To his admirers, he was a man of principle, fighting for his comrades in defiance of the rules of Westminster careerism. But to critics he was a hot-head, whose campaign verged on an attempt to thwart justice over army brutality in the Troubles.

Shadow defence secretary John Healey reflected both views when he told the Commons on Wednesday that while “no one can fault his passion or his sense of mission”, he had acted as “a roadblock to reason” on the issue.

Within hours of his dismissal, Downing Street announced measures to protect Northern Ireland veterans, which will feature in next month’s Queen’s speech. Ministers can expect to find Mercer holding their feet to the fire from the backbenches to ensure that these measures become law.

Yours, 

Andrew Woodcock

Political editor