Would the Confederation of British Industry be missed if it was gone?

It takes a crisis to put things in perspective, to say what otherwise remains unsaid.

The Confederation of British Industry is facing such a moment. Having lost its director-general, Tony Danker, while complaints against him are investigated, the business leaders’ organisation now finds itself at the centre of separate accusations of sexual misconduct and drug abuse.

These too are being independently investigated but in the meantime, the government and the governor of the Bank of England have not hung around, pulling out of meetings and cancelling joint engagements. As a result, the CBI’s annual dinner at which the governor, Andrew Bailey, was the star turn, has been scrapped. Meanwhile, major business backers have indicated their unhappiness, effectively putting the body on notice that if there is any truth in the fresh set of claims they will be gone.

Not only does this raise questions about the CBI’s ability to stay solvent but it raises the bigger issue of what is it for and, if it was to disappear, would it be missed?

The black-tie dinner is a traditional major fundraiser. This year’s occasion was to be sponsored by Lloyds Bank and tables were costing £4,900 each. There must be question marks too against the group’s annual conference in the autumn, at which the main political leaders set out their stalls for the business community. This is cash the CBI cannot afford to lose.

More serious is the implicit threat from the likes of Marks & Spencer, Rolls-Royce and EY that they could withdraw their support. While the CBI may be able to withstand the departure of its head should the probe find against Danker, if the latest allegations – which don’t concern him but relate to more widespread behaviour among some of his male colleagues – are also substantiated, then the “voice of business” as it sees itself is surely finished.

The CBI may have a high degree of self-regard but it is hard to think of any single difference it has made in recent years. There was a period, long gone, when it held a place at the top table in wage negotiations between governments and trade unions.

Otherwise, it claims to represent the interests of Britain’s 190,000 businesses, campaigning on their behalf, fighting their corner. In reality, it’s a think tank by another name, producing policy papers and studies that mean well but change little.

One giveaway is that annual dinner. You would be hard-pressed to find the titans of modern British enterprise in attendance. There will be a smattering of well-known corporate faces in the room but they will be few. Rainmakers, heavy-hitters, genuine entrepreneurs – they will be elsewhere.

It’s heavily male, middle-aged, smug, self-important. Look at it from above and you could be observing any golf club dinner.

Same as any golf club, moaners will be out in force. The CBI does that rather well. But when it should have the bit between its teeth, it’s found to be lamentably wanting.

Take the EU. British business was, overall, determinedly Remain; the CBI was Remain. Yet where was the great CBI drive in favour of staying in? Fearful of upsetting politicians and future ministers, it stayed largely silent.

If the dinner had taken place, the topic of Brexit and how British firms are suffering would have cropped up repeatedly in the drinks and over the meal. Too late; that horse has bolted and your membership association failed to prevent it.

Part of the problem is that the CBI is a jack of all trades, master of none. It covers the whole smorgasbord of British commerce, from heavy engineering to motor manufacturing to retail supply to logistical services to light factories to brewing to food to tech. It’s too much.

They’ve got their own areas of special concern, whereas the CBI must focus on the lowest common denominator. The result is that it talks airily about “women in the workplace” or “imparting new skills” without being specific enough.

Each sector of British business has its own representative grouping. They’re charged with fighting their members’ corners. Some are better than others, many are worth listening to and in touch more than the CBI. Ministers have cottoned onto this and, rather than deal with someone from the CBI, they will go closer to the action. So, if the subject concerns the creative industries, say, they will sit down with the Creative Industries Council.

Likewise, the British Chambers of Commerce has its finger on the pulse in a way the CBI does not. It represents small and medium-sized businesses and has branches all over the country. They meet regularly and they’re extremely active and on top of the issues facing them, their stakeholders and communities. The regional offices of the CBI, by contrast, seem dull, worthy and distant.

It used to be the case that of the two bosses’ bodies the Institute of Directors was the more senior, enjoying more gravitas and clout. Then the IOD went through a prolonged bad patch. Recently, though, there are signs of resurgence. It’s right wing, while the CBI jumps through all manner of hoops in order to proclaim it’s politically neutral (when its members are natural Tories). But at least the IOD knows what it is and does not come across as so wish-washy; it’s not trying to be all things to all people.

One of the biggest crises the economy faces is the decline in the high street. Hundreds of thousands of jobs are at stake, not to mention the shape and prosperity of our town and city centres. The British Retail Consortium is doing its level best to get the authorities to engage, to come up with concrete proposals to stem the tide. Where is the CBI? Those shops receive their goods from somewhere, from British suppliers, but the umbrella institution is invisible.

No, sadly, if this crisis marks the end for the CBI, there will be few mourning its passing.