The Men Who Run Britain Have Not Read the News Since Boris Was Still Considered Charming

Somewhere in Whitehall, in an open-plan office that smells faintly of oat milk and quiet desperation, a man in his mid-thirties is shaping government policy based on a Freakonomics episode he half-listened to during a run in 2021.

He is not alone.

An investigation by The Daily Despatch — conducted through background conversations with individuals who asked not to be named, identified, or in any way associated with the contents of this article — has found that a significant proportion of the special advisers currently influencing British government have not meaningfully engaged with the news since approximately the autumn of 2019.

"There was just," said one former SpAd, gesturing vaguely, "a lot going on after that."

The Golden Age of Not Knowing

Special advisers — SpAds, in the vernacular of Westminster — occupy a peculiar constitutional position. They are political appointees, paid from the public purse, who exist in the space between ministers and civil servants, translating ideology into policy and, occasionally, policy back into ideology when the first version turns out to be unworkable.

They are, in theory, the people who know what is happening.

In practice, according to multiple sources, the current cohort operates primarily on instinct, reputation, and an unshakeable confidence that their general worldview is correct regardless of what the facts might be doing at any given moment.

"I find," said one senior adviser, who has worked across three departments and two prime ministers, "that if you read too much news you start second-guessing yourself. Better to have a clear sense of the narrative and work from there."

The narrative, he added, was that things were basically fine and the people complaining were probably from Twitter.

'The Lads (Policy)'

Much of the informal intelligence-sharing between advisers takes place on WhatsApp, in a group that multiple sources confirmed is called "The Lads (Policy)."

The group, which has approximately forty members despite the name, operates as a rolling commentary on political events — or rather, on what members imagine political events to be, filtered through the prior assumptions of people who largely know each other from the same three universities and one particular pub near Victoria station.

"Someone will send a voice note saying they heard the Chancellor was considering something, and then someone else will say they heard differently, and then someone will send a meme, and then a junior minister will say 'thoughts?' and by the end of it we've basically formed a view," explained a source who remains active in the group. "It's quite efficient."

When asked what primary sources the group drew on, the source paused for a long time.

"The vibes," he said eventually. "Mainly the vibes."

The Podcast Problem

For more substantive analysis, advisers reported relying heavily on podcasts — specifically, on episodes they had not quite finished.

"There's a really good one," said one figure currently advising on economic policy, "about inflation. Or possibly supply chains. I think it was both. The guy had a really authoritative voice. American. I remember thinking: that's the guy who gets it."

He could not recall the name of the podcast, the name of the host, or the approximate year of recording. He remained confident in the conclusions he had drawn from it.

Another adviser cited a book about behavioural economics that he had read "most of" in 2018 as the intellectual foundation for a significant strand of current domestic policy. Asked which book, he said it was "the one with the nudge stuff" and that it was "very good, very practical."

A third described their primary news source as their partner, who "keeps up with things" and summarises key developments over dinner. "She's essentially my intelligence briefing," he said, with what appeared to be genuine admiration. "She read something about housing last week that completely changed how I was thinking about the whole issue."

He could not remember what it was.

The Expert Panel Weighs In (Having Also Stopped Reading the News)

To provide independent context, The Daily Despatch convened a panel of analysts from the Whitehall Policy Futures Forum, a think tank whose stated mission is "rigorous, evidence-based analysis of British governance."

The panel consisted of three senior fellows and one associate director. They met via video call. Two of them appeared to be in the same kitchen.

Asked when they had last read a daily newspaper in full, the associate director said "define full." One of the senior fellows said she subscribed to several newsletters but had them filtered into a folder she rarely opened. Another said he preferred to "let the big stories come to him" and had found this approach broadly reliable.

The third, Dr. Phillip Oakes, said he had stopped reading the news in late 2020 for reasons of "mental hygiene" but had retained strong opinions on most major policy areas, which he was happy to share.

He then shared them, at length, with considerable confidence.

The panel concluded that the situation regarding special advisers was "concerning in some respects" but that it was "important not to overstate the role of information in political decision-making."

They published their findings in a report titled Towards an Epistemically Resilient Advisory Culture: Challenges and Opportunities.

It is 280 pages long. Nobody has read it.

Nothing Will Change, But Confidently

The Cabinet Office, asked to respond to the findings of this investigation, said that special advisers were subject to a rigorous code of conduct and that the government was committed to evidence-based policy-making.

The statement was sent at 11.47pm on a Friday.

Somewhere in Westminster, a man in a good coat is typing a voice note into a WhatsApp group, explaining what he thinks is probably happening, based on something he heard, from someone who read it somewhere, back when reading things still seemed worth the effort.

Britain, as ever, is in safe hands.