Plebgate: Let's try not to enjoy Andrew Mitchell's downfall too much There will be few tears shed at Westminster over Andrew Mitchell's downfall today. Mr Mitchell arouses strong feelings among colleagues, many of them negative. A lot of people in politics consider him arrogant and rude and high-handed and petulant. Such people will think he has today received nothing less than he deserves. Even his friends - and he does have them - will be sadly unsurprised; several had urged him to abandon his legal action months ago, when his political campaign against the Met was going well, and before the history of his previous altercations with police officers could weigh against him. At one level, I can understand the sense of satisfaction some will feel in Mr Mitchell's ruin. A judge has found that he has committed the worst of social sins: he was rude to people who couldn't answer back. The measure of someone's character is the way they treat subordinates, and Mr Mitchell has been found badly wanting. But I can't join in the jubilation. Partly, that's because in all my dealings with Mr Mitchell, he has always been perfectly pleasant and civil; I have no direct experience of the personal nastiness that many, many others report, and which today's judgement denotes. Partly, it's because Mr Mitchell isn't the only one. I know other politicians operating at Cabinet level who can be equally unpleasant to their juniors. I know staffers who have been reduced to tears by men (and women) whose public profiles are modest and charming. I've seen apparently saintly leaders be brutally dismissive of waiters and protection officers. Their rudeness may not quite reach Mr Mitchell's self-destroying extremes, but nor is it a million miles away either. He is an outlier in terms of his fate, but not in terms of his conduct. But finally, it's because there's something faintly unpleasant about celebrating Mr Mitchell's disaster, not to say a whiff of hypocrisy. What made Mr Mitchell's behaviour so hateful was the suggestion that he was revelling in his power, exulting in being able to scorn and deride those in a weaker position than himself. So what, then, is Mr Mitchell today, if not a man brought low, weakened? Celebrate his personal misery now and we are little better than he was when he insulted and belittled police officers on duty. Bullying a bully is satisfying, but that doesn't make it right. To be clear, I don't mean to excuse Mr Mitchell or justify his actions. A judge has found that he behaved horribly. As a result, he faces political ruin and financial pain. That's as it should be: actions should always have consequences, and we should be pleased that justice has been done. But we should be careful not to enjoy it too much.