Trump and Johnson’s experiences have highlighted the crucial role of a paper trail in preserving democracy

The author is the director of the Bodleian Library at the University of Oxford and the writer of ‘Burning the Books: A History of Knowledge Under Attack’

It is incredibly ironic that documents, seemingly ordinary pieces of paper or digital files, are at the center of the political turmoil involving Donald Trump and Boris Johnson, two of the most audacious and reckless political leaders in recent history.

The power of documents is evident in the fact that Trump has become the first president to be indicted for felonies, and Johnson has chosen to resign from parliament rather than face suspension by a parliamentary committee. What makes these cases notable is that both men were attempting to manipulate their political narratives through the use of documents. While Trump may have displayed classified records of national importance to impress his friends and donors, the fact that he stored them in a bathroom displays a breathtaking disregard for their sensitivity.

These scandals highlight two main points. Firstly, these former heads of government, driven by their pursuit of political dominance and their willingness to break the law to maintain it, are merely the latest in a long history of populist and authoritarian leaders who have sought to control knowledge as a means of exercising power. Throughout history, rulers like Ashurbanipal in Assyria and Henry VIII in England have forcibly seized documents to further their causes. Even today, Putin’s attacks on libraries and archives in Ukraine demonstrate the utilization of controlling historical narratives as a weapon of authoritarianism.

Secondly, these incidents emphasize the significance of record-keeping for effective governance and an open society. The populist desire to control knowledge through erasure, misinformation, and disinformation underscores the crucial role of comprehensive record-keeping in providing the public with evidence of how politicians, civil servants, and advisors conduct themselves. Well-curated records bolster integrity in public life, revealing the evolution of public policy during events like the pandemic and shedding light on inequities in policy implementation, such as the awarding of PPE contracts. Documents empower the public to hold those in power accountable. Both Trump and Johnson, albeit to a lesser extent, demonstrate that archives form an essential part of a democratic infrastructure.

Nevertheless, there exists a regrettable history of suppressing public access to documents. The Bodleian Library at the University of Oxford holds the war diary of Lewis “Loulou” Harcourt, the secretary of state for the colonies in the early 20th century. This diary chronicles the discussions that took place in Herbert Asquith’s cabinet before and during the First World War. Asquith did not want these cabinet discussions to be made public and, in 1916, reprimanded Harcourt for taking notes. Harcourt’s urge to not only communicate but also document and preserve provides us with a glimpse into monumental cabinet debates that shape the lives of entire populations. Similarly, the exposure of Matt Hancock’s WhatsApp messages during the COVID-19 crisis offers an unfiltered view of the government’s crisis management efforts.

I have previously warned about the risks of using private messaging systems for government business and urged the Cabinet Office to update its guidance to ensure that these messages are considered within the scope of the 1958 Public Records Act. We have since witnessed how these messaging systems can undermine the health of our democracy.

It is now necessary to conduct a thorough review of the ministerial code and its relationship with the 1958 act and freedom of information legislation. Above all, Parliament needs the authority to ensure that George Orwell’s warning in ‘1984’, where “the past was erased, the erasure was forgotten, the lie became truth,” does not become a reality.