Iraq inquiry: it's too early to shout "whitewash"

Those already denouncing Chilcot hearings should be patient

The Iraq inquiry got under way this morning with Sir John Chilcot promising that his team will be "fair, rigorous and frank". Chilcot began, rather appropriately, I thought, with a moment's silence for all those killed in Iraq.

There has already been some criticism over the size of the inquiry room, with a large number of journalists turned away at the door. Channel 4's Gary Gibbon writes: "This must be the smallest room used for an inquiry ever. I estimate it is 10m x 10m. I have seen bigger inquiry rooms at a council planning hearing."

The green-ink brigade were shouting, "Whitewash! whitewash!" even before Chilcot had delivered his opening statement. But short of Tony Blair being arraigned in The Hague for war crimes, it is hard to think of anything that could satisfy them.

The opening statement confirmed that the inquiry will be modelled closely on the Franks inquest into the Falklands war, seeking to learn lessons and making recommendations for future governments. But unlike that exercise, as much of the new Iraq inquiry as possible will be held in public, thanks to Chilcot's victory over Gordon Brown. His decision to stand up to the Prime Minister over this central issue bodes well for the future.

He issued an appeal for evidence from members of the public, an effort to prevent the inquiry merely presenting an establishment view of the war.

We don't want to, and are not, just hearing from the "official" representatives. We value hearing a broad spectrum of views from a wide range of people and organisations. We want to know what people across Britain think are the important questions. We want to get a range of challenging perspectives on the issues we are considering.

He also urged the public to be patient, pointing to a further round of hearings due to be held in the middle of 2010. He said: "We expect to invite back some previous witnesses and, where relevant, call some new ones. What I would like to stress now is that people should not jump to conclusions if they do not hear everything they expect to in the first round of hearings: there will be more to follow."

I'm dubious about the inclusion in the panel of Sir Lawrence Freedman, one of the architects of Blair's version of "liberal interventionism", and Sir Martin Gilbert, who once compared Bush and Blair to Churchill and Roosevelt, but Chilcot himself appears, for now at least, robustly independent.

With the mountain of documents the committee has to go through, I'd be surprised if the inquiry concludes before the end of 2010. But I am quietly confident that this won't be the "establishment whitewash" some expect it to be.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.