British politics has become a medieval battlefield across which the victors wander, seeking the twitching remains of Boris Johnson to harass and hack. The latest spat is over how much to reveal of his Downing Street behaviour during Covid. Lady Hallett, chair of the Covid inquiry, wants the unredacted WhatsApp messages between Johnson and 40 senior colleagues, along with unredacted diaries and 24 notebooks.
Hallett thinks all material is potentially relevant for investigating, say, “the degree of attention given to the emergence of Covid-19 in early 2020 by the then prime minister”. The Cabinet Office strongly disagrees, citing privacy and disputing the relevance of much of the material. The eager Liberal Democrats claim that being kept in the dark is “yet another insult to bereaved families waiting for justice”.
Hallett, a former judge, has not even begun her inquiry and two considerations must arise. The first is speed. Sweden’s inquiry into its own controversial Covid policy – perhaps of more interest to Europe’s policymakers than Britain’s fumbling approach – began work in 2020. Its interim report appeared in 2020, another in 2021 and a final version in early 2022, running to 1,700 pages. It was excellent. Britain’s meandering venture now might end up in court over the WhatsApp issue. The sense of lawyers finding work for each other is overwhelming.
I have no admiration for Johnson in government but his defenders do raise a point. His argument and that of the Cabinet Office is simple, that a prime minister is entitled to some privacy and there are conversations and communications that should stay secret, at least in the short term, of which they are entitled to be the judge. Government staff are not miked or recorded. We assume rooms and corridors are not bugged. Crucial decisions are taken on the spur of the moment, and those taking them must feel relaxed and free to challenge the advice they get and give. They should not have to worry how their words will look on the evening news or to a subsequent barrage of lawyers. Illegal Downing Street parties have already been dealt with.
We would all like to know what Johnson discussed with his closest aides, Dominic Cummings and Eddie Lister. It is hard to believe it would be anything but embarrassing. In the extreme case of Nixon’s Watergate tapes, revelations indeed led to criminal charges. But exceptions don’t prove rules. The prospect of complete openness at the top could lead to aides being sycophantic and insincere, and civil servants feeling reluctant to give honest opinions. Leaders will exclude from their counsels all but the most loyal courtiers.
Social media have certainly muddied the water. While some physical papers must await the 30-year rule or longer, a question mark clearly hovers over electronic communication. The Cabinet Office has already given Hallett 55,000 documents and 24 witness statements. Johnson says he has handed over 5,000 documents and 300 pages of emails. How much WhatsApp can the inquiry conceivably want, let alone read and digest? Will this “Boris bashing” never end?
Anyone in any high office must be able to communicate with friends and colleagues with a degree of privacy. Perhaps they must remember never to take notes or record anything that is readable, hackable or recoverable. But for the time being, the effect of this dispute is more delay. If the lessons of Covid do not matter for public policy, they can be left to historians. If they do matter, they matter now.
Simon Jenkins is a Guardian columnist
