Rishi Sunak has found himself caught in a terrible trap of his own making

When the (likely brief) history of the Sunak administration comes to be written, people may wonder how such a smart, diligent and mostly collegiate chap came to make so many blunders.

Some of the challenges he faced were obviously the unfortunate legacy of his predecessors; particularly Liz Truss, who managed to blow up the gilts market, and of course Boris Johnson, whose chaotic, dysfunctional, mendacious ways shredded his party’s reputation for competence.

For context, Sunak has also had to deal with the aftermath of Brexit, the impact of the war in Ukraine on the cost of living, and the continuing impact of Covid on the NHS.

None of those can be counted as entirely of his making; but coupled with some blunders of his own, it means that his tenure will be one of the great might-have-beens of history. Of a prime minister who came to power only at the possible end of his party’s tenure in power, fated not to win a mandate of his own.

In that respect he most resembles the semi-tragic figures of Gordon Brown, John Major and Jim Callaghan, all similarly overwhelmed by local and global forces beyond their control after succeeding charismatic predecessors, and suffering the ennui of the voters.

Sunak has, indeed, suffered from some spectacularly unforced errors, and none greater than the exquisitely engineered trap he has imprisoned himself in over the Hallett inquiry.

Now, after a period of some prevarication culminating in obfuscation, he simply cannot win. Even in the cramped governmental conditions of 2023, with no money to splash around and a party sullenly refusing to be led, politics is about choices. Sunak had a choice as to what to do when Baroness Hallett, chair of the Covid-19 inquiry, demanded certain documents be surrendered to her, with the threat of penalty under the criminal law.

Scenario one on the Sunak spreadsheet was to immediately hand the gear over, intact, unredacted and unmolested. This is what every one of his predecessors has done since the system of public inquiries was set up in 1921. He could tell the Cabinet Office to pass whatever was in their possession, ask them to ask Johnson to supply his materials, and advise the baroness that if he couldn’t get the stuff off Johnson (“because you know what he’s like”) she should pursue him. End of.

There would be political damage if and when any of the embarrassing details made it into the public domain, but that may be many months if not years away, and with the general election (probably lost anyway) out of the way. Besides, there’s probably less chance of Hallett and her team of lawyers leaking it to the press than his own colleagues. So, yes, bad, and still a loss; but contingent, and recoverable.

Scenario two is the path Sunak is trying to take – attempting to censor out the “unambiguously irrelevant” parts of WhatsApp conversations and other documentation.

Apart from the fact that it’s absurd to have the very people under investigation shredding bits of the evidence against them they don’t like, it’s Hallett’s job to do the editing, not the Cabinet Office. As is universally believed by legally qualified folk, Sunak’s judicial review will fail, as will his backstop plan, a “Section 19” order.

This would mean the Cabinet Office would submit the material, but block any of it ever being made public or read by interested parties such as the groups representing the families of the bereaved. It’s a device that’s been used before, such as in the Leveson Inquiry, but the all-pervading nature of the Covid pandemic means that the inquiry also has to be all-pervading to fulfil its statutory terms of reference.

Hallett needs to “be in the room” when assessing how key decisions were arrived at. She also needs to be able to make reference to evidence when compiling her report, and providing a sound basis for each of her recommendations about “lessons to be learned”. If not, then the credibility of the inquiry, not least among the victims, will be fatally compromised: it would be thought an establishment whitewash and make a mockery of the Inquiries Act 2005.

For Sunak, this foot-dragging merely gives everyone the impression that he has something to hide, and it is surely damaging his reputation, and that of his government. Through accident or mischievous design, Johnson has actually managed to make himself look more straightforward and open than Sunak, with his highly-publicised offer to let it all hang out, and to send Hallett whatever the heck she wants (and in stark contrast to his past reticence during “Wallpapergate” and “Partygate”).

Even if Sunak managed to win his legal cases and suppress the evidence, it will do him no good. Into that vacuum will flood speculation and conspiracy theories – not least from Johnson devotees in his party who think of him as the snaky assassin of poor innocent Boris.

Scenario three is the one that Sunak will likely end up with, and is the worst of all worlds. Humiliatingly, he’ll lose his legal challenges and be forced to hand over all the documents anyway and intact, ie in another U-turn; his political judgement will be questioned; the contents might be more attractive and more likely to be leaked by other participants in the WhatsApp exchanges (as Matt Hancock’s did); he’ll still be thought of as shifty; and in due course he’ll be criticised by the judge for this lack of candour.

A spectacular own goal, then, as if he were one-nil down to Starmer in the FA Cup approaching half time, and then confidently tried to pass to his own goalie and watch his shot dribble slowly into the net.

You could argue that, just like John Major’s “back to basics” slogan (albeit often misunderstood), or Tony Blair’s claim that “I’m a pretty straightforward kind of guy”, Sunak made a rod for his own back with his pledge on his very first day in office, 25th October 2022, outside Number 10: “This government will have integrity, professionalism and accountability at every level”.

As the scandals that disfigured his government and his personal reputation rolled in, including the ones when he was still chancellor, those well-meaning sentiments were thrown back at him, exacerbating the erosion of trust in him and his record.

And there have been too many of these embarrassments, along the road to Number 10 and after, for someone who always gives the impression of being fundamentally decent. Even when nothing illegal was done; his wife’s non-dom tax status; his green card for America; his tax returns with their modest effective rate; and a succession of failing ministers: Gavin Williamson, Nadhim Zahawi, Dominic Raab and Suella Braverman.

It’s true that his political position was so weak last year that he was obliged to put them in his Cabinet; but he was not forced to hang on to them for so long before firing them (except for Braverman, a permanent rebel and source of trouble who seems to be indestructible).

And Sunak has not been, in any case, held to any higher a standard than most of his predecessors (though Johnson was indulged for far too long). If the economy was booming and Brexit demonstrably working, things might be different; but even here Sunak’s credit as a brave and skilful chancellor doing the right thing during the pandemic has been tarnished by inflation, strikes, tax hikes, failing public services and a stagnating housing market.

In any event, the row over the Covid files won’t decide the outcome of the next eternal election – but it certainly hasn’t helped the Tories project an image of unity and competence. It has certainly done nothing to help Sunak live up to that other, less quoted, promise he made when he came to power: “Trust is earned. And I will earn yours.”