Former foreign secretary Boris Johnson and former Brexit secretary David Davis both resigned their posts this week in the wake of negotiations over Britain's exit from the EU © Dinendra Haria/Rex/Shutterstock

The craven opportunism, self-interest and ambition of Brexit politics were thrown into sharp relief earlier this week via a live satellite malfunction. In the midst of multiple cabinet resignations over Theresa May’s new negotiation strategy, a technical glitch in the BBC’s subtitling department found news of the Thai boys’ rescue erroneously superimposed over footage of events at Westminster.

“Brexit secretary resigns,” read the news tape, as politicians shuffled across the yellowing grass to have their say. The ticker underneath it? “Mission . . . paused due to depleting oxygen levels.” It continued in much the same vein. “More ambulances seen going into operation area . . . ” The cameras panned the House of Commons: “Eight people remain inside the cave.”

As May’s government limps towards its next constitutional crisis, the accidental analysis couldn’t have been more apt. The story of the 12 Thai footballers and their 25-year-old coach, trapped deep within the Tham Luang cave for 18 days, has provided a near-perfect analogy for the Tory cabinet today: a bunch of pitiful naifs, out of their depth and ill-equipped to fight the rising waters that surround them.

But there the comparison has necessarily ended. Because where the May cabinet has been characterised by venal self-interest, petty narcissism and the culture of blame, the Thai boys’ predicament has been exceptional for their shared sense of optimism and camaraderie, even in the face of deep uncertainty and the death of one of the divers sent to save them.

While the Tory cabinet are behaving like a gang of teenagers, the Thai boys have been a sketch of wise maturity. One can only imagine the mental endurance that has been required of them these past weeks, the strength of their resolve and the physical toll. I am especially intrigued by the details of the evacuation, and why it was determined that Chanin Vibulrungruang (nickname: Titan), the youngest boy, aged 11, was one of the final few to be guided from the cave.

And yet despite their circumstances, there was no hysteria, no anger, no whining at all. Throughout, the boys offered only words of solace, suggesting that their parents need not worry, and that no one is at fault. Their demands — that plans for a birthday party should go ahead as planned, that they be stuffed with home-cooked dishes — have been humbling in their modesty.

Throughout, they have embodied the “strong and stable” stoicism in which the Tory party has so manifestly failed. They have been calm, reasonable, caring. Perhaps May should adopt the meditation techniques the boys have reportedly been practising with Ekapol Jantawong, the man who spent years at a Buddhist monastery before starting his new role as a football coach, and who went in search of the children when the alarm was first raised.

“Team spirit” is a hackneyed phrase. It’s the kind of virtue thrown around during away-day workshops run by management experts where people pump paint pellets into each other’s chests. It’s the stuff of twee childhood mantras: “teamwork makes the dream work”. And of David Brent-style corporate missives. Still, the fundamental principles of working together still apply. “Work of each for weal of all,” went our school motto, a pithy Quaker aphorism that disguised the fact that most of the school’s pupils were wealthy Trustafarians who wouldn’t need to work a day in their lives. But which had a simple truth nonetheless.

It’s worth noting also that the same ideology has guided the England squad towards their longest World Cup run in 28 years. Here again, a group of youngsters have been instilled with the need to sublimate their egos for the betterment of the outcome. “Obviously it will be very important for Harry [Kane],” said Gareth Southgate of his decision to rest the England captain in the final group match instead of letting him pursue his personal goal of getting the Golden Boot. “But he knows the team is the most important thing and we have to make decisions that are right for the team.”

Such straightforward leadership, as well as his remarkable empathy, humility and cool dismissal of too much hubris, has endeared Southgate to millions. The opposite of most ego-bloated sportsmen, he has been the face of compassion and a cool head in a week when everyone else is losing theirs. One of the best Twitter memes, #GarethSouthgateWould, has offered a panoply of circumstances in which the England manager could demonstrate his credentials as a good bloke: “#GarethSouthgateWould Now encourage people to buy Swedish products to show there are no hard feelings,” reads one. #GarethSouthgateWould respectfully put in earphones to watch something on Netflix on public transport, but throw on the subtitles just in case anyone wanted to watch over his shoulder,” another. And my favourite: “#GarethSouthgateWould Know exactly at what angle to PIVOT when helping you upstairs with your new sofa.”

Don’t be impressive, just be helpful. And get the job done.

As I write this, the last of the Thai boys are being led through the water. The team has been saved. By doctors and divers. Macho rescue efforts, like Elon Musk’s infant inflatable submarine, have been eluded in favour of human endeavour, bravery and patience. The achievement, in the face of so much danger, has been remarkable. One football team, at least, is coming home.

Will the boys retain this Zen-like calm in life outside the cave? I hope so. In a landscape of childishness, they’ve been a lesson to us all.

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