Phonegate: the quicksand of power and the persistence of political scandal
John Dean, the White House lawyer during Watergate, told the then President Nixon (March 21, 1973) that “There’s a cancer on the presidency.” Political scandals are like quick-sand. Once you step in there’s a lot of explaining, then cover up, and as you’re almost swallowed whole -then the lies surface.
Mandelson was arrested on the 23rd February for suspicion of misconduct in public office, and the CPS are now assisting the Police in the investigation. Shades of Watergate as Mandelson slips into the quagmire.
It now emerges that a mobile phone belonging to one of Keir Starmer’s closest aides has vanished. Morgan McSweeney, Starmer’s former chief of staff, is understood to have held exchanges on the device relating to Mandelson’s appointment as UK ambassador to Washington. Messages deleted. Rather strange that the phone theft followed on from deleted messages.
The spectacle of 'PhoneGate' is not about Mandelson. It is about the entire retinue of New Labour. Awash with scandal, u turns and amateurish governance, it should warrant the death knell of the New Labour project and demand a year zero rethink about British democracy.
One of Mandelson's first scandals centred on a soft loan from fellow minister Geoffrey Robinson to assist with the purchase of a house in Notting Hill. The loan itself was not illegal.
However, the arrangement was not declared promptly, and Robinson’s own controversial financial history lent the episode a damaging resonance. As Jean Seaton has noted, “modern political scandal is driven less by transgression than by symbolism.”
Mandelson was soon up to his neck in the quicksand and excuses. Butler and Kavanagh later described the episode as an illustration of how “the politics of presentation can rebound upon those most skilled in its use.” 2 This is a continuing feature of Labour.
Scandals are hoped to dissipate over time. Who now remembers the Angela Eagle, Reeves or Rayner scandals? However Mandelson underestimated the very British common aversion to forms of corruption, especially now with the economy in dire 'Hormuz' straits.
Opposition figures argue that the disappearance of a device containing key communications conveniently removes a damaging evidential trail, especially as Parliament has demanded full disclosure of the so-called “Mandelson Files.” Critics say the situation “stinks of a cover-up.”
The wider controversy centres on Mandelson’s relationship with Jeffrey Epstein and whether ministers were misled about its extent. Starmer himself has since admitted that Mandelson “lied repeatedly” during vetting, a revelation that forced his removal and triggered a broader political crisis.
However it now seems Starmer was aware of the Epstein links at the time of appointment. It questions the judgment of a PM who appears to be 'reactive' rather than proactive, and prone to wild uturns when the political push comes to a shove. How far down is Starmer in the quick yellow stuff, only time will tell.
A second resignation followed in 2001 over allegations he had intervened in a passport application for a wealthy associate, which he denied but which nevertheless damaged his credibility. Mandelson’s second resignation followed controversy over a passport application associated with Srichand Hinduja one of the billionaire Hinduja brothers.
However, the political difficulty lay not in outcome but in judgement and disclosure. Mandelson initially failed to give a full account of his involvement when questioned, leading to the perception, fatal in the Blair era, that the story was evolving rather than complete. Downing Street concluded that confidence had been lost.
The Hammond Report was explicit on this point: “Mr Mandelson’s actions did not affect the decision-making process in relation to the application. However, his failure to give a full account at the earliest opportunity was a serious error of judgement.”
This formulation is central. It exonerates Mandelson on corruption while condemning him on process and candour. Mandelson’s own recollections, later set out in his book 'The Third Man', are revealing for what they concede and what they contest. He did not deny making contact; instead, he framed his intervention as routine and administrative, a function of ministerial life in a system dense with representations: “I had not sought to influence any decision. I had merely passed on information and inquired about progress, as ministers do every day.”
But he acknowledged that the real damage lay elsewhere: “I was undone not by what I had done, but by how it appeared—and by the fact that I had not been sufficiently clear, quickly enough, about my role.”
More recently, the Epstein affair has reinforced that pattern. Documents released in 2026 suggest Mandelson downplayed his relationship with Epstein during official vetting, despite maintaining contact after Epstein’s conviction, something that senior officials warned posed a reputational risk.
Against that backdrop, the disappearance of McSweeney’s phone is being viewed through a sceptical lens. Critics argue that in a scandal already marked by missing disclosures,the loss of potentially crucial messages fits an uncomfortable pattern. It appears Labour ministers, from Angela Eagle to Reeves, to Rayner, have a slippery connection to truth.
In Mandelson’s long career, the issue has rarely been a single controversy in isolation. Rather, it is the accumulation of them, and the persistent sense that key details only emerge when they can no longer be avoided, that continues to shape how each new development is interpreted. PhoneGate sits within a culture of a political class who appear immune to the full rule of law.
Yet the worst may soon come out with the Epstein files. As per usual, Mandelson is hedging his bets, hoping the wind of fate will blow over the scandal, his head barely above the parapet...
Brian Patrick Bolger has taught Political Philosophy and Applied Linguistics in universities across Europe. He is an adviser to several Think Tanks and Corporates on Geopolitical Issues.
