The BBC's review of its internal procedures following the Hutton report may well come to a sobering conclusion: by mishandling the intelligence story reported by Andrew Gilligan in May last year, it not only prompted the resignation of its chairman and director general, it missed the story. What David Kelly, the government scientist, offered Gilligan in the course of his famous interview at the Charing Cross Hotel were clues to be investigated - clues that pointed to something more than the "sexing up" of its Iraq dossier. They were the first steps along a route that might have exposed the intimate role Downing Street played in politicising Britain's intelligence system.
These clues weren't properly pursued. Lord Hutton concluded that the BBC's editorial systems were "defective" in allowing Gilligan's report to be broadcast unscripted. But even in its later, scripted state, it is clear that the BBC's Today programme failed to spot the real significance of its own story.
The irony is that what the BBC's editors should have done was to recall the once-famous "mission to explain," a doctrine favoured by its previous director general, the much-maligned John Birt. He stressed the need to put news into its context and explain its significance. The lead offered by Kelly cried out for this process. We now know a great deal about the way the Iraq dossier was compiled, and although Hutton cleared Downing Street and the joint intelligence committee (JIC) of wilfully distorting raw intelligence, the detail given to the inquiry allows us to piece together the disclosures that the BBC might have broadcast during the critical period last year when the prime minister's decision to go to war was being subjected to public scrutiny. Hints had already been published in newspapers that some of the intelligence had been exaggerated, but no one realised how closely involved the prime minister's office had been in drafting the report. That was the real story which Kelly pointed towards.
What, then, were the clues that the BBC had in its possession, and what were its chances of substantiating them? We will, of course, never know precisely what Kelly told Gilligan on 22nd May, because Gilligan did not take proper notes. Enough, however, is borne out by Kelly's own evidence to two Commons committees, and by his interviews with the Newsnight reporter Susan Watts, to demonstrate that he was indeed raising some fundamental issues about the way the dossier had been compiled.
The essence of Gilligan's notes was as follows: the dossier was transformed in the week before publication to make it sexier, the classic example being the 45-minute claim, which was based on a single source, and was misinterpreted. Some people in intelligence were unhappy about it because it did not reflect their considered views. It was real information, but it was unreliable and was included against their wishes. Not all of these points were necessarily true, but they formed the bones of what should have been a responsible investigation. An ambiguity surrounds the naming of Campbell. Gilligan says that Kelly brought up his name. Kelly himself told the Commons foreign affairs committee that he could not recall doing so. However, independently, and unaware of its significance, Susan Watts had recorded notes of a telephone interview with Kelly which did include Campbell's name. Had the Chinese walls within the BBC, which make it virtually impossible for a Today editor to know what a Newsnight reporter has been working on, been breached, somebody might have realised that this was crucial evidence.
Armed with Kelly's hints, Gilligan's checking process amounted to no more than combing through press clippings, ministerial speeches and the dossier itself to find "context" and "background." His story was noted and given the go-ahead by an editorial team which did not properly check it. A script was "approved" in the early hours before it was broadcast. Leaving aside the 6.07am unscripted broadcast, which even Gilligan concedes was inaccurate, the scripted version focused on the unhappiness of intelligence agencies with the dossier, and their belief that the JIC's informant had got the 45-minute claim wrong. It was introduced by John Humphrys, who announced that the dossier had been "cobbled together at the last minute" (untrue). Gilligan went on to say that "The government knew that the claim was questionable even before... they wrote it into the dossier" (also untrue).
The correct procedure for the BBC's editors would have been, first, to question Gilligan closely about his source, the strength of the allegations, and the implications of what he had been told. At that point, a sensible editor would have realised that it could not be broadcast at all unless strong evidence could be produced. Finding that evidence would have required setting up a small team and involving other defence and intelligence specialists. In the wake of the Hutton inquiry, the BBC's comments on its own performance have revolved around the matter of single-source stories. Can they be broadcast at all? If so, in what circumstances? Some reporters said that if they could not use single sources any more it would be an "assault on journalism."
But the right thing to do in this case was to start digging, to see what other backup material or witnesses could be found. Some BBC reporters have told me that none of the intelligence doubts would have surfaced, that Downing Street's role could never have been established and that angry intelligence officers - like Brian Jones who, with Kelly, believed that the 45-minute claim was unwarranted as it stood - only spoke up after Kelly's death. They may be right, but did the BBC try?
So what would the story have amounted to? First, it would have probed the "ownership" of the dossier. It was, of course, published in the name of the government but, according to Blair, based in "large part" on the work of the intelligence agencies. In his evidence to the Hutton inquiry, Campbell insisted that his role had simply been to make "presentational" points to the JIC. The BBC, however, might have shown the extent to which he and Jonathan Powell, Blair's chief of staff, were able to exert an influence on the delicate wording of the document. Presentation and accurate intelligence are a difficult mix. To know how that mix was arrived at would have been invaluable information to a country anxious about war. That the prime minister's office took part in redrafting an intelligence document to sharpen its political impact might not have surprised insiders. It would undoubtedly have shocked the public. Even Campbell concedes that his role was to add strength and clarity to the dossier. Of 16 suggestions he made to the final draft, nine were accepted, including the dropping of the word "may" from the 45-minute claim.
Powell's last-minute intervention was a revision, not just to the style but the content of the text. He pointed out that merely suggesting Saddam was "prepared" to use chemical and biological weapons "if he believes his regime is under threat" was "a bit of a problem." Surely it should be redrafted to say that he had plans to use them and that these plans were integral to his military strategy. His proposal was adopted.
This revelation alone, properly backed up, would have given the BBC the real story. The later defence, mounted by John Scarlett, chairman of the JIC, that nothing was included without his approval, would have been reported, as would the explanations of Campbell and Powell - that they had merely been protecting the interests of the prime minister. But by then the BBC would have placed its revelations on the agenda, it would have had the evidence to back them up, and it would have had the moral certainty of arguing that the story was in the public interest.
