Thought 2022 was wild? 2023 will be the strangest in politics yet

There are certain things one shouldn’t say in certain places. On stage it’s “good luck”; on a ship it’s “goodbye”. In newsrooms, the easiest way to get people to glare at you is to announce that it’s looking like a quiet news day. As all journalists know, saying it out loud will act as a jinx, and ensure that something major and terrible will happen right before the paper goes to print.

There isn’t quite an equivalent in political columnism, but consider this: in October 2021, I had lunch with a friend, who also works in the media. “How is it all going?”, he asked me. “Well”, I said, “I worry that 2022 is going to be a bit of a dull year. I have no idea what I’ll write about.”

Less than two weeks later, the Owen Paterson scandal started unfurling. In time, it led to the resignation of not one but two prime ministers, making 2022 yet another year worthy of study for future political historians.

What this means in practice is that, when I emailed my editor this morning to discuss ideas for the week, I hesitated to type what I actually had in mind. You see, I do just think that 2023 will be a quiet year.

Bitter experience has taught me never to sound too certain when making predictions, but look. It is very unlikely that the Conservatives will get rid of Rishi Sunak this year. It is very unlikely that the Labour party will get rid of Keir Starmer. It is very unlikely that there will be a general election. As a result, it is very unlikely that the House of Commons will find itself gridlocked and without a majority on anything important. Finally, it is really exceptionally unlikely that there will be a referendum, and I pray to any and all gods that there won’t be another global pandemic.

In short: 2023 is not only shaping up to be a normal year, but the first normal year in British politics since 2013. It’s a striking fact, isn’t it? I counted backwards from 2022 and was surprised by just how long it’d been. Can anyone even remember what the world was like in 2013? David Cameron was prime minister. Nick Clegg was still around. The word “Brexit” hadn’t been invented yet. Nicola Sturgeon wasn’t leader of the SNP.

Perhaps more importantly, the majority of people who were MPs then aren’t MPs now. Only one or two special advisers who were there in 2013 are still working in government. Many political journalists (your columnist included) weren’t writing about Westminster at the time. Hell, several current political editors weren’t even in the lobby 10 years ago. SW1’s a madhouse and none of us knows what normal feels like.

At risk of falling for a clunky metaphor, British politics has now been functioning like a TV show for a decade. There may be “monster of the week” episodes but, ultimately, there is an overarching narrative every season and everyone knows that’s what really matters.

That is no longer the case. We know Sunak will have to call an election at some point, probably in 2024, but in the meantime, parliament will just have to keep itself busy. There will be debates on policy and controversial votes; pieces of gossip turned into three-day stories because there’s nothing else happening; endless bits of briefings and counter briefings tedious to all but the people behind them.

Because both nature and Westminster abhor a vacuum, it will be interesting to see what happens once everyone gets a bit bored and restless. It is possible that the long-promised reckoning over #MeToo will finally happen, as reporters get itchy when they have little to report on.

As likely but less welcome would be Nigel Farage’s return to frontline politics, driven by Conservative paranoia and cranky hacks moaning about migrants. Or perhaps it will be both of them, or neither, or something else entirely. That’s what happens when there is no longer a focal point on the horizon: anything can happen.

This is the other reason why my lament from last year was wrong. Things may finally be returning to normal, but I doubt I’ll be left without anything to write.