Tag Archive for MPs’ expenses

You be the judge

FOIMan comments on a revealing annotation to a request made via WhatDoTheyKnow.com.

MPs' expenses are in the news once again

Expense claims do cause a lot of trouble for FOI Officers

In my experience, one of the most common causes for a FOI response being delayed is one that many FOI Officers are reluctant to publicly acknowledge. It is that often colleagues are less than cooperative. This can take the form of outright refusal to provide information; of foot-dragging; or simply of being awkward and aggressive. All of this goes on behind the scenes and is rarely exposed to sunlight. After all, FOI Officers have to remain professional and maintain good relations with their colleagues as far as possible.

So we can be thankful to one academic who has thoughtfully published the internal email correspondence between themselves and their FOI Officer on the WhatDoTheyKnow website. The cause of this was a freedom of information request made through the site for the academic’s expense claims. They note that they are “far from impressed” with the handling of the request and that “‘work’ is often self-inflicted” by public bodies based on their experience. They ask us to “be the judge”. So let’s do that.

The request was received on 30 January, and acknowledged on the 3 February. On the same date the academic – a professor – was informed of the request, and asked “Would you please advise how we should handle it?”. The response at first sight seems somewhat sharp to send to a colleague:

“I’m not sure what you are asking. If it’s guidance on how to answer FOI requests then I would have thought the university’s FOI Officer would know how to do their job. If not, they could do worse than to read my book…”

What I strongly suspect the FOI Officer was attempting to do here was to consult the professor as to her views on disclosure – as advocated by the section 45 Code of Practice. In any case, it’s good manners. But it was worded a little loosely, so it’s kind of the professor to volunteer her assistance, even if it does take the form of a plug for her own book.

There is subsequently a delay. Let’s remember that FOI Officers are dealing with lots of requests at the same time, not to mention having other responsibilities. So there may be good reasons why they don’t immediately come back to the professor. On the other hand, perhaps the response to their first email has made them reluctant to re-engage.

When they do write again to their academic colleague, they thank them for their email – which is very nice of them in the circumstances – and advise that “[T]he University will withhold information on your expenses on the grounds of Section 40(2) Personal Data.” Is our professor happy to hear this? Not a jot of it:

“That seems a rather defensive position to take. Surely the first step in such requests is to ask the staff member whether or not they object to the information being disclosed. If they don’t then publish.”

The observant amongst you will note that the FOI Officer has already asked the professor – two weeks previously – how they want the request handled. And they don’t appear to have answered yet.

They do, however, go on to explain – you can almost hear the grinding of the gritted teeth that they’re talking through – how the FOI Officer should handle the situation should the staff member object. The professor of course being the staff member here. Still no indication of her actual view on disclosure though. She helpfully refers the FOI Officer to an Information Tribunal case. Not just any Tribunal case though: “my Information Tribunal case”.

It’s worth noting here that whilst it is common practice to disclose expense claims by those in senior management positions, it is certainly not routine to do this for other members of staff. The Information Commissioner’s definition document for higher education institutions requires universities to publish totals claimed by “senior staff” – and defines this as staff earning over £100,000 per annum and on the senior management team. In my time as a FOI Officer in higher education I don’t recall ever dealing with a request for expenses claimed by academics outside senior management. A quick perusal of WhatDoTheyKnow confirms that such requests are rare. Recently the Commissioner accepted before the First-Tier Tribunal that academic salaries were exempt from disclosure in a particular case. I don’t know what academics at this university are told about their expense claims, but given the above, they may have been led to expect that disclosure was unlikely. If this is the case disclosure could well be unfair, which would support the use of the s.40(2) exemption to withhold expense claims by academic staff. So in the absence of a clear, unambiguous statement from the professor that they are content for their claims to be disclosed, I can understand why the FOI Officer would have proposed to withhold the information. They are not being defensive, merely adopting a default position that is perhaps reasonable in the circumstances. In any case, all the professor has to do is indicate that they don’t want their expense claims to be withheld and they can be released (which they know, as the quote above illustrates).

No doubt occupied with other requests and duties, the FOI Officer takes a little while to go back to the academic again. By this point, they have started to suspect – again, without very much to go on – that the professor may want to disclose her expenses. So they ask whether she has claimed any.

Her academic colleague takes umbrage at being referred to as a “Visiting Professor”. Her pride apparently wounded, she questions why the information is not being sought from the university’s systems, and goes on to add:

“The way this request has been handled has not filled me with a great deal of confidence in the competence of the university’s FOI Office. I can only imagine the negative impression given to the applicant. It has been a useful experience, however, to see how the system works (or rather doesn’t) from the inside.”

I don’t know why the information wasn’t being sought from the university’s systems. Perhaps the FOI Officer had already attempted to, had found nothing, and wanted to confirm this with the professor. Maybe – and boy, I can relate to this – they had experienced problems with data obtained from the finance systems previously and thought it might be easier to go straight to the horse’s mouth. But I do know one thing. The professor hasn’t answered the question. Or indeed, given their consent for the information to be disclosed.

I’ve been a little flippant thus far, but I do think this illustrates a real problem for FOI Officers. If you take the handling of any FOI request out of context, you will see delays, and maybe questions that don’t make sense to the outside observer. It rarely helps improve matters to put individuals under pressure from the start by being unnecessarily unpleasant to them or publicly questioning their competence. It certainly doesn’t help if colleagues repeatedly fail to answer questions put to them by FOI Officers in their organisations trying to prepare responses.

At best, the attitude displayed by this academic shows disrespect for a colleague trying to do a difficult job. At worst, it has contributed to delaying the response to the requester – the response is now overdue. The professor may be able to point to failings by the university’s FOI office, but she hasn’t exactly helped them. In her commentary on the request, she comments that the FOI Officer failed to pick up the phone – but it doesn’t appear that she has attempted this herself. At every stage she had the opportunity to indicate her willingness for the information to be disclosed, but instead chose to score points off a junior colleague, apparently to make a political point.

Rudeness may be understandable – though not really – in someone who resents FOI, forced into the sunlight reluctantly. But if you’re someone who professes to champion FOI and has made their name by using it to hold others to account, you would think that you’d do everything in your power to assist a colleague to meet the Act’s obligations. So it’s odd that the academic at the centre of this sorry tale is one Heather Brooke – famed for being one of the journalists who pursued the disclosure of MPs’ expenses. By adding her annotation to WDTK it cannot be denied that she has enhanced transparency, but I’m not at all sure that it exposes what she intended.

The politics of records management

FOIMan reflects on how his boring records management work has twice found its way into the national press and considers whether there are lessons for others who manage their organisation’s information.

MPs' expenses are in the news once again

MPs’ expenses claims – no longer a problem for the House of Commons?

The Telegraph reported earlier this week that MPs’ expenses claims prior to 2010 can no longer be investigated as they have all been destroyed. Defending its actions, the House of Commons authorities explained that they had been disposed of in line with a policy called an Authorised Records Disposal Practice (ARDP), and that to retain them longer would have breached the Data Protection Act (DPA).

The story attracted my attention because…I drafted the ARDP in 2003. I don’t recall why we gave it such a rubbish name, but I do remember why MPs’ expenses claims, receipts and other financial records were to be retained for only 3 years. It was because the House of Commons authorities went out of their way to obtain permission to retain them for this period rather than the usual 6 years. Three years was explicitly chosen because they wanted to limit both the scale of information that might potentially have to be searched, and the risk of “smoking guns”.

As it turned out, three years wasn’t enough to avoid the latter, at least not entirely.

Is the Commons’ spokesperson’s statement that to retain the records longer would have breached the DPA true? The DPA requires organisations using personal data to comply with 8 principles. One of those principles requires personal information not to be kept for any longer than necessary. The Act doesn’t specify how long such records should be kept – in practice it depends on a range of things from other legal requirements to business need. It does require, of course, that organisations develop clear policies on how long personal information will be retained and put in place procedures to implement those policies consistently. To this extent, the House of Commons was following good practice in adopting the ARDP, and indeed in disposing of information in line with it.

This doesn’t entirely justify the Commons statement though. As I stated above, it was their deliberate decision to retain financial information for a shorter period than most organisations, albeit with relevant authority. They could have decided to keep records for 6 years. At any point – especially once the public interest in MPs’ expenses was aroused – they could have amended the policy. Given the historical significance of these records, it is even arguable that they should have been retained permanently. An exemption within the DPA would have provided legitimacy for this action.

So whilst the argument made by the Commons authorities was factually correct at least in part, it was perhaps a little…disingenuous.

This isn’t the first time that my records management work has aroused controversy. In preparation for FOI in late 2004, the Greater London Authority (GLA) held a number of “Records Management Days”. Staff were encouraged to dress down and spend part or all of their working day throwing away files that were no longer required. The aim was to reduce the amount of space taken up by storage for records (City Hall never having been designed with physical records storage in mind), and to reduce the volume of information that would need to be searched through when we started to have to answer FOI requests. (This is arguably of benefit to potential requesters as well. The more information that remains to be searched through, the more likely that a public authority will be able to claim that complying with the request will exceed the “appropriate” or cost limit.)

Records management is seen as an activity that busy people can put off. Put that together with the “just in case” mentality and the challenge for records managers like myself is not generally to persuade colleagues to keep information, but to get them to throw it away. FOI presented a fabulous opportunity to make this happen. If I milked the “smoking gun” message it was a means to an end – though perhaps it suited others for different reasons.

The GLA’s records management project, of which this activity was a part, was approved by both the Mayor and the London Assembly. So it was with some surprise that I learnt that London Assembly Members were asking questions about what were now termed “shredding days” in early 2005. And with even more surprise to find them reported in the Sunday Times in March 2005:

“KEN LIVINGSTONE, the London mayor, has admitted that his office had a “shredding week” to destroy documents ahead of new disclosure rules under the Freedom of Information Act.”

Back in 2005, and again this week when reading about my ARDP’s role in the latest MPs’ expenses story, my initial reaction was defensive. As a records manager I was doing my job. It isn’t possible for organisations to keep everything – just imagine what your own house (or even computer, though that’s perhaps less obvious at first sight) would look like if you never threw anything away. If you must dispose of records, good governance requires that it be done in line with an agreed policy grounded in established best practice. For many years that is the argument that records managers have expounded and stood by. I’m sure that like me, they have seen themselves as slightly removed from the fray, an almost neutral observer. So news articles suggesting that our work is “political” in some sense provoke an indignant response. That’s exactly what our work is there to demonstrate – that the management of information is simply a process. Records are destroyed according to our rules not to the whim of a politician or a nervous official.

But is that true? When I reflect on this latest story, and once again on my earlier brush with politics, I begin to realise that what I thought of as apolitical policies were never really anything of the sort. All policies – and retention policies are no different – have to go through some sort of approval process. They have to take on board the needs of the organisation – political as much as financial and practical. In drafting retention policies for both the Houses of Parliament and the GLA (and for that matter, any of my other employers) I documented established and desired practice. If the Commons’ authorities wanted to keep information for 3 rather than 6 years, then that was what was written into my policy. I don’t remember if I challenged it at the time, but even if I had, it is unlikely that my view would have prevailed. It is most likely that at the time I accepted the view of those authorities unquestioningly. It didn’t seem unreasonable at the time, whatever hindsight suggests.

So those managing their employer’s information should remember that whilst it may be tempting to see themselves as objective rule-makers, they are probably nothing of the sort. In truth, records managers are as much a part of the culture of their organisation as anyone else, and it is perhaps more dangerous to continue to deceive ourselves to the contrary.