Sexual abuse investigation has a bad history –and no future

Where does history end and the present day begin? It sounds like a trick interview question for Oxford – with a smarty pants answer, like: “Now!” But this strange, metaphysical puzzle is one of the crucial questions that has to be answered by the vast, sprawling and unmanageable Independent Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse.

The inquiry was launched in 2014 with the worthy goal of uncovering how various institutions had failed to protect children from abuse. It was going to learn lessons, admit wrongdoing and deliver catharsis and recognition for survivors. Instead, the inquiry is in serious trouble. Only the Home Secretary can save it, but she is sitting on the sidelines with her hands up, refusing to get involved. This is a big mistake: Amber Rudd must stop ducking responsibility and step in to stop the whole thing falling apart.

This week has brought public confidence to a new low. The inquiry saw its most senior lawyer, the highly respected QC Ben Emmerson, quit. We learnt that his deputy, Elizabeth Prochaska, left a fortnight ago. It has not heard a single day of evidence and is on its fourth chairwoman, having lost its first three – all judges – to allegations of conflicts of interest or incompetence. Survivors’ groups are in despair.

So what is the problem and why are so many seemingly sensible, senior people unable to address it? The answer lies in our question about history. The inquiry has a mandate so broad that its investigations can never be finished and its work can never be deemed a success. Its unmanageable task, assigned by then home secretary Theresa May in 2014, is to look into “historic” instances of sexual abuse at any institution, any place and any time, going back decades if necessary. Hence, the question: what is history?

To understand how such an elementary mistake could be made in setting up the inquiry, it’s necessary to cast our minds back. Britain was reeling from revelations about Jimmy Savile, Rolf Harris, the Catholic Church, the Anglican Church, care homes, schools and hospitals. Over Westminster hung a cloud of noxious rumours about a paedophile ring of senior politicians. Suddenly, it seemed as if paedophiles were everywhere, as if society were fundamentally and irredeemably sickened and corrupted by their malign influence.

Mrs May, succumbing to the frenzy, declared that society – history! – would be put on trial and cleaned up by an all-encompassing investigation to leave no stone unturned. As to which part of society or what period of history, it seemed much more sensible and convenient to let the lawyers decide on that. That way, the government couldn’t be accused of getting in the way.

Directionless and headless, the inquiry has grown like a knotweed, sending out strands in every direction. Estimates of its likely cost, at £100 million, are beginning to look optimistic. So far, it has opened 13 investigations. They range from the arcane (Britain’s shameful forced migration programmes for children) to the ubiquitous (child sexual abuse “facilitated by the internet”). And just to ensure the inquiry mopped up every politically toxic case going, it was handed a file on Lord Janner, who died before his alleged victims could state their claims.

Here’s the dilemma: once an investigation is opened, it’s almost impossible to close. Why? Because attached to almost every one of them is a group of survivors with a desperate need for recognition and closure. What lawyer could easily justify telling any of them that their stories are too old, expensive or obscure to be worth hearing?

The inquiry’s new leadership is doing what it can. Alexis Jay, the current chairwoman and a former social worker who investigated the abuse of girls in Rochdale, has started a review. It will determine whether any investigations can be merged or dropped (the one into “the internet” seems ripe for abandoning). She should also examine whether any could be handed to non-lawyers, like councils, academics, psychologists or other experts. But she can’t fix the root of the problem: the inquiry is in chaos because Mrs May gave it an impossible task. Narrowing its scope might be unpopular, but that is precisely why only the Home Secretary can take the difficult decisions that will make the inquiry feasible. Costs are mounting and public confidence is draining away. Ms Rudd needs to grow a backbone and do her job.