The official UK Inquiry about COVID

I have a passing interest in political institutions – having graduated in political “science”, with a subsequent Masters in Policy Analysis and spending the last 20 years of my life before retirement helping ex-communist countries develop the capacity of their state institutions. So I have followed with particular interest the different ways in which governments handled the COVID19 crisis - and what that seemed to reveal about their political systems.

As far as I am aware, the British government is the only one now carrying out an official inquiry. It started last July with an investigation of the preparedness for the pandemic (module 1) and is scheduled to last for several years. It started module 2 in September looking at issues of “decision-making and public governance”. This past week brought it a high profile with some of the key civil service, scientific and policy advisers under scrutiny. This is how one of the UK’s best political scientists covered the process

The COVID inquiry is possibly the most sophisticated and wide-ranging blame 

game that has ever played out in British politics. That said, the great benefit of 

public inquiries, as opposed to parliamentary scrutiny, is that their breadth allows 

for an exploration of issues in a way that promotes “cool thinking” (balanced, 

reflective, evidence-based) over “hot rhetoric” (aggressive, adversarial, emotive).
Although hotly awaited, Dominic Cummings’s appearance before the inquiry was a 

fairly cool affair. Gone was the “mad man in the wings” who had caused controversy 

and chaos in Whitehall as chief adviser to former prime minister Boris Johnson. 

The edgy and unrepentant dissident who sat in the garden of No.10 and sought to 

justify his lockdown-breaking drive to Barnard Castle replaced now by a far calmer 

character.
There were, of course, the juicy soundbites about poor planning (the Cabinet Office 

described as a “dumpster fire”) and even poorer leadership (Johnson apparently being 

“obsessed with older people accepting their fate and letting the young get on with 

life”). The scale of dysfunctionality was captured in the use of a new language of 

disarray and disorder. Johnson, for example, was known as “trolley” due to his tendency 

to change direction. Shifts in policy were the result of “poppins” (moments when 

officials would “pop in” to see Boris Johnson to drip-feed thoughts of doubt into his 

mind).

Deep story
None of this insight was new, of course. The fact that the pandemic became a “Kafkaesque 

nightmare”, as Cummings put it, was no revelation to those who had been following 

this sorry saga. But a deeper story did emerge in the course of Cummings’s evidence.
In sociological research the notion of a “deep story” – as sociologist Arlie Hochschild 

has demonstrated with such insight – focuses on how people make sense of the world.

 Deep stories don’t need to be completely accurate, but they have to feel true to those 

who tell them. They are the stories people tell themselves to capture and manage 

pressures and disappointments, fears and anxieties.
In the COVID context, what’s most significant is the way in which a trail of WhatsApps 

and other social media messages have laid bare the “deep story” of how officials and 

advisers felt about their political masters. Expletive-laden messages between senior 

officials, the government described as a “terrible, tragic joke” and even the admission 

by the country’s most senior civil servant that he was “not sure I can cope”.
What these inquiry sessions with central political figures have really revealed was 

the frailty of human nature when expected to govern under pressure – which in itself 

leads to a focus on expertise.

The deeper issue, if not the story, emerging out of Cummings’s evidence 

was the existence of a governing system that was almost completely devoid 

of expertise. Plans did not exist. Systems were not connected. Data was 

not collected. Admissions of “dysfunctionality” little more than a veil for 

an incredibly amateurish system staffed by generalists who were committed 

to “muddling through” when systemic responses were needed.

Where expertise was available in the form of its Scientific Advisory Group for 

Emergencies, the government lacked the capacity to understand or interrogate 

the advice it was given.
The bigger picture is provided in former government minister Rory Stewart’s book 

Politics on the Edge, which charts in great detail how those with expertise and 

specialist knowledge within Whitehall are sidelined in terms of promotion and policy 

input. Journalist Ian Dunt makes a similar argument in his critique of both ministers 

and the civil service – generalists jettisoned into a system based on non-stop churn.

Shallow man
And yet there is a dimension of this story that is not at all deep. Indeed, its shallowness 

is almost shocking. The core and undeniable concern that Cummings’s evidence reinforced 

relates to the issue of leadership.
The admission by Lee Cain, the former director of communications in No.10 under 

Johnson, that COVID “was the wrong crisis for this prime minister’s skillset” 

demands deconstruction.
How did Johnson become prime minister, and what were the skills or attributes that 

he brought to the role?
This is not a partisan question. It is a proposal for sober reflection on how we give 

people power.

Arguably the most galling element of the evidence that the public inquiry 

is amassing about Johnson’s lack of leadership skills is that anyone who 

had done even the smallest amount of credible research on his personal 

and professional life up to July 2019 could only have concluded that he 

was totally unfit for office.
This is not a partisan point either. It is underscored by a vast seam of 

research and scholarship. Anyone who doubts this point might simply take 

a dip into Tom Bower’s biography which titles Johnson as The Gambler. 

Andrew Gimson’s account of his “rise and fall” provides another weighty 

account of chaos and disaster. Sonia Purnell’s Just Boris: A Tale of Blond 

Ambition outlines a life of entitlement and absurdity.

The deepest question unearthed by Cummings’s evidence is really one about how we 

select and support our political leaders. In Johnson’s case it’s worth remembering 

that he was elected and effectively anointed prime minister by Conservative party 

members, who constitute less than 1% of the electorate in the United Kingdom (and 

a skewed and unrepresentative slice of the public at that).
Party activists tend to be more extreme in their views than the general public, and 

are likely to prize certain “qualities” (such as celebrity status, charisma and charm) 

over “basic skills” (organisational expertise or project management experience).
Celebrity, charisma and charm might be appropriate qualities for tea parties and 

fundraising dinners but they’re not much good for leading integrated pandemic 

response strategies. That’s the deep and simple story.

Further Reading/Viewing

• uk Covid19 inquiry live stream Cummings – starts from 02.00 hrs https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DLX37aNgUzk&ab_channel=UKCovid-19Inquiry

• 115 pages of Cummings’ formal evidence to the official inquiry

• Institute of Government Blog about the Inquiry