On this scoresheet, Johnson is more Trumpian than Corbyn. The Conservative Party leader is in favor of getting rich; he is also reflexively pro-American (even pro-imperial). In contrast to Corbyn, he is also a moral gymnast, both personally and professionally. Johnson’s critics say he cannot be trusted, that he fibs without remorse—and, like Trump, this appears to do little to dent his supporters’ trust. “He lies and cheats, but I trust him,” as one veteran Conservative campaign official described to me the sentiment among his supporters. Brexit, like Trump’s “America first” agenda, is an exercise in national sovereignty—to make Britain Great Again. So far, so Trump.

But what do Johnson and Corbyn represent at their core? What drives them? And why do their supporters love them so? Here is where the surface Johnson-Trump comparisons fray, revealing the more profound Corbyn-Trump similarities.

Corbyn is a populist who wants to remake his country and change the way it behaves in the world—just like Trump. He is skeptical of the institutional security structures put in place by Britain and the United States after World War II—like Trump. And he’s instinctively hostile to Britain’s closest allies and dovish toward its closest enemies. You get the point.

By comparison, Johnson is boring. He supports multilateral action to tackle climate change, the resurrection of the Iranian nuclear deal, NATO, the “special relationship” with America, Israel’s right to self-defense, military intervention in the Middle East and other regions where necessary, the fabled “rules-based international order,” and so on and so forth. He supports every strand of Britain’s postwar consensus—apart from EU membership. (In contrast, Trump appears to challenge much of that same consensus.)

Read: Jeremy Corbyn’s Britain would reshape Western alliances

Here it’s worth quickly examining Brexit. Whether or not he’s correct, Johnson believes Brexit is necessary for the U.K. to become a more dynamic free market and international economy. He wants Britain to pursue more free-trade deals, not fewer, and to lower tariffs, rather than impose new ones. This might not be the effect of Brexit, nor even, some would argue, the intention of its supporters, but it’s the intention of its political masters—and certainly Johnson. Corbyn, in contrast, is a skeptic of all free trade, whether with Europe or the U.S. At heart, Trump is a mercantilist who believes in tariffs (“I love tariffs”) and their effectiveness as an instrument of American power in pursuit of more advantageous trade agreements. Johnson is a Reaganite. In this philosophical battle, Corbyn is much closer to Trumpian protectionism.

Dig deeper, beyond the Trump and Corbyn policy platforms, and what are the two men’s instincts? Trump, his critics allege, is instinctively authoritarian, uncomfortable with dissent and the messy compromises of governing in a democratic system with partially autonomous bureaucracies often vying for control. Like Corbyn, he derives his power from the masses, not through institutions with checks and balances moderating the changes he wants to make, frustrating his program and limiting its scope. To Trump this is the “deep state” corruptly circumventing the will of the people, not good governance. The Trump instinct is authoritarian in nature, if not in practice.