Are ‘honourable’ resignations in politics a thing of the past?

The resignation of Richard Hughes as chair of the Office for Budget Responsibility (OBR) because of a catastrophic leak of data before the Budget is a rare example of a senior figure taking the hit for failings that were not their direct or, arguably, indirect responsibility. It was an “honourable” and genuine resignation, in the sense that it was not a thinly disguised sacking. Hughes probably hasn’t started a new trend.

The “data-handling mistake” on the OBR website led to an almost unprecedented leak of the entire contents of the Budget (a previous leak in 1996 to the Daily Mirror did not lead to publication). This was seriously embarrassing for the OBR and the chancellor, a historic discourtesy to parliament, and the information was finance-sensitive, especially in the gilts market. Indeed, it’s not clear whether any quasi-insider trading occurred without the knowledge of the authorities.

Hughes took responsibility for a terrible administrative error. He thus offered his resignation to the chancellor and, as a formality, wrote also to the chair of the Treasury select committee. He did so for the good of the OBR. He stated: “I also need to play my part in enabling the organisation that I have loved leading for the past five years to quickly move on from this regrettable incident. I have, therefore, decided it is in the best interest of the OBR for me to resign as its chair and take full responsibility.”

Rachel Reeves might have refused to accept the resignation, but for whatever reason, perhaps that Hughes was determined to go, she evidently didn’t succeed in retaining him, even if she tried. There were rumours about frictions and frustrations between the OBR and the Treasury, especially over the timing of the GDP growth downgrades, though these also extended to Hughes’s predecessor. Thus, the tensions may be institutional rather than personal. In any case, most were sorry to see Hughes go.

Kemi Badenoch says so: “The chancellor is trying to use the chair of the OBR as her human shield. But I will not let her. Why is it always someone else's fault with Starmer and Reeves?”

Reeves is even less responsible for the failure at the OBR than Hughes, albeit she must assume some accountability as the minister responsible for this independent agency. Some, such as Badenoch, argue that Reeves’ “lies” and alleged misleading of parliament over the state of the public finances meant she should have quit, but that is rather contentious. Formally, it is a matter for the independent adviser on ministerial standards, Laurie Magnus, and he is unlikely to recommend her dismissal. Every chancellor has a right to run the public finances as they wish, even if their presentational skills are woeful.

It’s a convention that has eroded over the years because it’s not been found to be generally useful in promoting good governance and efficiency. The standard test case remains the Crichel Down affair in 1954, when a cabinet minister, Thomas Dugdale, quit over an egregious example of maladministration of Air Ministry land requisitioned from farms in wartime.

The other example, and maybe the last senior politician to leave over a matter of administration as much as policy, was Lord Carrington. As foreign secretary, in 1982, he carried the can for the failure of his department (and others) to deter Argentina from invading the Falkland Islands and, through diplomacy, to prevent the war that followed. It was, as he put it in his resignation letter, “a humiliating affront to this country”.

If we consider the various resignations during this administration, it’s fair to say that they were promoted by some serious personal misjudgements. Louise Haigh, Tulip Siddiq, Angela Rayner and Peter Mandelson (a serial quitter, it might be said) certainly fall into this category, as do many that occurred in the previous Conservative government. However, the quiet and unforced resignation of Anneliese Dodds as international development minister because of cuts to the foreign aid budget last year was, like Hughes’s decision, reminiscent of an almost bygone age of decency. Indeed, some might say that executives Tim Davie and Deborah Turness, who resigned over questions of bias at the BBC, were similarly principled. Honour has, in fact, perhaps always been in short supply in public life, but never, not even now, entirely extinct.