The fall of Sue Gray proves one thing, once and for all...

I hate to use the expression, not least because it’s such a terrible cliche, but the fall of Sue Gray proves, once again, that too many cooks spoil the broth. Or, to put it another way, why does the prime minister need a “chief of staff” anyway?

It feels very much like what it is: an American import, and one that, while well suited to the US presidential system and its highly politicised system of public administration, fits badly into the British political culture. It isn’t necessary at all – and for decades, until Margaret Thatcher instituted such a position (and then only for a few of her years in power), prime ministers managed without one.

The civil service provides an enormous well of dedicated talent, which is available to any prime minister and their colleagues. It is the job of civil servants to form policy, based on the wishes of ministers – and then to oversee its communication and implementation.

There are plenty of scientists, economists, diplomats and other specialists across Whitehall who know their stuff – and can make the nebulous “missions” of any administration into some sort of reality, given the usual constraints of time and money.

If you consider what was (in relative terms) the most successfully executed policy challenge in recent years – the response to Covid – it seems clear that most (if not all) of the stuff that went right was down to the likes of Chris Whitty and Patrick Vallance, and the blundering was down to the politicians.

It is only fair, and illustrative, to point out that Boris Johnson’s uncertainty and lack of resolve, along with his tendency to resort to instinct, were mostly thwarted by his own powerful quasi-chief of staff, Dominic Cummings, who backed the scientists and forced decisions to be taken. Cummings, by his own witness, was no epidemiologist, but he also showed the value of a political adviser challenging the more amateurish instincts of the political classes – and even some at the top of the civil service.

It seems that Cummings’s problem, like that of Sue Gray, was simply that he lacked the special skills needed to make this kind of political role work under the present system. A prime minister is well blessed if he or she can find someone who is able to mould themselves, and fashion their role, into a shape that fits into the gearbox of government, rather than jamming it up.

A chief of staff may not strictly be needed – and can be both a distraction and an obstacle to getting things done – but they can also add some value if they know what to do and are able to command the support and respect of the prime minster and those around them.

There have been successes. Sometimes they are a purely political appointment (like Gavin Barwell with Theresa May); sometimes drawn from the permanent civil service (Tom Scholar under Gordon Brown); and sometimes a hybrid creature, as was the case with Jonathan Powell, a former diplomat turned Blairite apparatchik.

Sometimes they are less successful – the “terrible twins”, Fiona Hill and Nick Timothy, co-chiefs under Theresa May until the disastrous 2017 general election, being outstanding examples. They added neither strength nor stability to her work.

Gray was supposed to be a Powell-style appointment, I guess; she had vast experience in administration, a formidable reputation for wily competence, and was firmly part of Team Starmer in opposition.

Yet, for whatever reason, she wasn’t malleable enough to manage the challenges and rivalries that confronted her – apparently not least that of her eventual replacement, Morgan McSweeney. It seems as though that was what Starmer concluded, at any rate. Perhaps, in some parallel universe, she might have been able to carve out a niche running “the Grid” and managing the political staff and their access to the PM in some non-hierarchical fashion; but in truth, balancing all of that is a near-impossible task.

With hindsight, the obvious thing to do with Gray would have been to leave her in the civil service – and then appoint her to succeed Simon Case as permanent secretary in due course after winning the election.

Think of that: the first ever female cabinet secretary and head of the British civil service, appointed under a Labour government. Her role would then have been of the conventional, familiar kind; of a top public servant able to become attuned to the tastes and modus operandi of their boss, but with no need to be in direct competition with the political special advisers. In any case, she would be carrying her own independently derived authority as head of the entire civil service (with a network of contacts to match).

She’d have been excellent, probably. But again, as far as can be seen from the outside, she had a beef with Case when he was appointed permanent secretary by Johnson; and Starmer, as leader of the opposition, felt he needed someone urgently to prepare his party for government.

So, she was yanked out of the machine too early and couldn’t be fitted back in again. Plainly – unlike the Powell-Blair partnership – it didn’t work out. Perhaps the McSweeney-Starmer one will.