Morgan McSweeney phone theft conspiracy theories – it’s the job of journalists to seek the truth

Upfront, I must say that when I first encountered a report strongly implying Morgan McSweeney’s phone theft was linked to requests for messages about Lord Mandelson, I found it hard to believe. The idea seemed like an overreaching theory, almost comical in its stretch.

What did the “raising an eyebrow” observers claim occurred? Was Number 10’s chief-of-staff sprinting through London at 10 p.m., waving a phone like a flag to attract a thief? Or did someone orchestrate the entire thing by tossing the phone into a truck and fabricating a narrative for the police to follow?

Both scenarios, even today, feel improbable. Yet, after being prompted by government insiders, I began to question if these wild notions were indeed what I was implying by suggesting the connection wasn’t as far-fetched as it seemed in October 2025.

For clarity, I’m not asserting either of these outlandish theories as facts. Sky News shares this stance. Our role is to investigate, not to confirm every eccentric claim.

The essence of journalistic pursuit

So why report the story at all? Because it’s not right to assume that checking details and running a brief piece equates to backing the most extreme version of a story. Journalism, at its heart, means stepping into shadowy corners to discover they lead to unexpected truths—or sometimes, to dead ends.

When the tip about Louise Haigh’s undisclosed conviction emerged, it was tied to another tale of a supposedly stolen phone. My first thought was, again, doubt. The initial lead offered a more positive angle, but the investigation uncovered something that served the public interest.

Similarly, when news broke about Angela Rayner buying a coastal property, I was initially unconvinced. Stories claimed she dodged tax through a legal, yet politically contentious, method. Her team’s explanation was solid, yet we still pursued the story—just not with full-scale coverage.

Rayner had underpaid tax, but not for the reason first reported. It was a legal error, more of a mistake than a conspiracy. Still, the story reshaped political narratives, leading to her removal from the deputy prime minister role.

That said, some in Whitehall were upset by how quickly the McSweeney story was reported, fearing it gave credibility to online conspiracy theories. But I’d argue that the optics of the situation—how it appears—often matter in politics. However, the bigger issue is not whether these stories should be explored, but when they should be made public.

Take Rachel Reeves’ case: a report about her missing a rental license looked like it might cause problems. Yet, an explanation was given, and the matter faded. Sometimes, these investigations lead to nothing, but that’s part of the process.

When should a story be published?

Perhaps the greatest debate revolves around timing. Some thought the McSweeney story was reported too soon, feeding the growing swirl of online speculation. But for those who criticize our approach, I offer this: the stolen phone saga “looks bad,” but that doesn’t mean it’s inherently wrong.

It’s crucial to distinguish between what appears to be a scandal and what actually is one. In politics, appearance often carries weight, but the focus should remain on substance. Whether or not the phone theft was connected to Mandelson’s files, the act of investigating is vital.

Regardless of the motive, the fact remains that the potential loss of Mandelson’s messages to parliament is significant. That’s the core of the story—something that deserves attention, even if the details are still being sorted.

Read more: Starmer: ‘Far-fetched’ to link McSweeney phone theft to Mandelson files Explained: Why is the McSweeney phone theft a big deal?

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