The Complete Yes Minister
Jonathan Lynn
Antony Jay
The BBC TV series Yes Minister were written by Jonathan Lynn and Antony Jay and produced by Sydney Lotterby and Peter Whitmore. The part of James Hacker was played by Paul Eddington, Sir Humphrey Appleby by Nigel Hawthorne and Bernard Woolley by Derek Fowlds.
THE COMPLETE YES MINISTER
The Diaries of a Cabinet Minister
by
the Right Hon. James Hacker MP
Edited by Jonathan Lynn and Antony Jay
Editors’ Note
Some note of explanation is needed on the methods and guidelines that we have used in reducing these collected diaries of many millions of words to one relatively short volume.
James Hacker kept his diaries from the day on which he first entered the Cabinet. He dictated them into his cassette recorder, sometimes on a daily basis, more often at weekends when he was at his constituency home. His original plan had been simply to make notes for his memory, but he soon realised that there would be intrinsic interest in a diary which gave a daily picture of the struggles of a Cabinet Minister.
Before going into politics full time, Hacker had been first a polytechnic lecturer and, later, Editor of Reform. When the diaries were first transcribed they were hardly readable, having been dictated very much ad lib, rather like his polytechnic lectures. Furthermore, there were a number of discrepancies in his account of events, both within the book itself and when objectively compared with outside events. Being a journalist, Hacker had no particular talent for reporting facts.
Apart from the discrepancies, there was also a certain amount of boring repetition, inevitable in the diaries of a politician. Years of political training and experience had taught Hacker to use twenty words where one would do, to dictate millions of words where mere thousands would suffice, and to use language to blur and fudge issues and events so that they became incomprehensible to others. Incomprehensibility can be a haven for some politicians, for therein lies temporary safety.
But his natural gift for the misuse of language, though invaluable to an active politician, was not an asset to a would-be author. He had apparently intended to rewrite the diaries with a view to improving the clarity, accuracy and relevance of his publication. Towards the end of his life, however, he abandoned that plan because — according to his widow, Lady Hacker (as she now is) — he saw no reason why he should be the only politician publishing memoirs which adhered to those criteria.
The editors have therefore had to undertake that task, and in doing so found one further obstacle to clear understanding of the Hacker tapes. The early chapters of this volume had been transcribed from the cassette recordings during the great statesman’s own lifetime, and he had glanced at them himself and made a few preliminary suggestions of his own as to selection and arrangement. But later chapters had yet to be transcribed when the bell rang for the Last Division and — curiously — it seemed that Hacker’s speech became more and more indistinct, slurred and emotional as each recording session progressed. This may have been due to a fault in the recording machine, but it did not make our task any easier.
Nevertheless, these diaries constitute a unique contribution to our understanding of the way that Britain was governed in the 1980s and because Hacker wrote them in the hope that the public would understand more rather than less of the political process, we have edited the diaries ruthlessly. We encountered three principal problem areas in the editing process: chronological, technical, and interpretation.
First, chronology. Broadly, we tried to preserve the narrative element of the original diary, and thus we have tended to pursue particular stories and trains of events to their conclusion. At all times we have striven to maintain a chronological day-by-day account, even though the original tapes are much more confused. There is a slight risk of historical inaccuracy in this approach, because Hacker himself was deeply confused for most of his time in office and it could be argued that the diaries ought to reflect this confusion. But if we had allowed the diaries to reflect his confusion in full, the events that they relate would have become as incomprehensible to the reader as they were to him.
Technically, we have completed and punctuated sentences, unmixed the metaphors and corrected the grammar, unless by leaving the original we were able to give an insight into Hacker’s state of mind.
Finally, interpretation. Where the book is ambiguous we have assumed that this is a deliberate exercise of his political skills. Although it is true that he was often unclear about the meaning of events, it is also the case that sometimes he was deliberately vague.
We believe that these diaries accurately reflect the mind of one of our outstanding national leaders; if the reflection seems clouded it may not be the fault of the mirror. Hacker himself processed events in a variety of ways, and the readers will have to make their own judgement as to whether any given statement represents
(a) what happened
(b) what he believed happened
(c) what he would like to have happened
(d) what he wanted others to believe happened
(e) what he wanted others to believe that he believed happened.
As a general rule, politicians’ memories are less reliable about failures than successes, and about distant events than recent ones. Since Hacker’s career, like all politicians’, inevitably consisted mostly of failures, these diaries ran the risk of having only small historical value. But the fact that the great man had no time to make any alterations or excisions in the light of subsequent events has enabled us to select from the morass a document of unique value to students of that period of British history.
This book covers Hacker’s entire career as the Minister for Administrative Affairs. This was his first experience in government. The Ministry had been created some years earlier as an umbrella ministry, along the lines of George Brown’s Department of Economic Affairs in the Wilson government of the 1960s, to co-ordinate government administration. Theoretically it gave Hacker a roving brief, to investigate and control administrative inefficiency and overspending throughout the system, wherever it was to be found. Unfortunately the Department of Administrative Affairs was not only created to control the Civil Service, it also had to be staffed by the Civil Service. Readers will therefore be well aware of the inevitable result of Hacker’s labours.
Nonetheless, it remains a slight puzzle to the editors of this volume that Hacker, who was such a master of blurring and obfuscation in his own political dealings, should have found such difficulty in dealing with a group of civil servants whose techniques were essentially similar. Hacker’s innocence, as revealed in these diaries, is quite touching.
Later volumes under the title Yes Prime Minister will deal with Hacker’s career as he failed upwards to Number Ten Downing Street, and thence to his final demise on his elevation to the House of Lords (as it then was).
We have, of course, had the benefit of other sources. Hacker was, inevitably, in ignorance of certain conversations and events which, had he known of them, would doubtless have altered his perceptions and his views. We are fortunate that under the Thirty-Year Rule all of Sir Humphrey Appleby’s memos and minutes have become available to us. We are also fortunate that because Appleby was a first-class civil servant he had a total belief in the value of committing everything to paper. Thus we have also had the benefit of Sir Humphrey’s own private diaries, and we would like to record our debt of gratitude to the Public Record Office and the Trustees of the voluminous Appleby Papers.
A final word of thanks. We were most grateful to have had a few conversations with Sir Humphrey himself before the advancing years, without in any way imp
airing his verbal fluency, disengaged the operation of his mind from the content of his speech. And we should like to express our thanks to the staff of St Dympna’s Hospital for the Elderly Deranged, where he resided for his last days.
Above all, we are grateful to Sir Bernard Woolley, GCB, former Head of the Civil Service, who was Hacker’s private secretary for the period covered by this volume. He has given generously of his time and checked our selection against his own memory and records. Nevertheless, any responsibility for errors and omissions is, of course, entirely our own.
Jonathan Lynn
Antony Jay
Hacker College, Oxford
September 2019 AD
1 Open Government
October 22nd
Well, perhaps it’s the early hours of Friday, the 23rd now. I am most excited. I have just been returned to Parliament by Birmingham East. And after years in opposition, the party has finally won a general election and we’re back in office.
After the result was announced I went to the celebration do at Alderman Spotteswoode’s[1] and saw Robert McKenzie on the telly say: ‘And so Jim Hacker’s back, with an increased majority in his marginal constituency. After many years as a Shadow Minister he seems almost certain to get a Cabinet post in the new government.’
Robin Day seemed doubtful, though. I do hope Bob McKenzie’s right.
October 23rd
I’m still hoping but I wonder if Robin Day knows something that I don’t.
I’ve been sitting by the telephone ever since breakfast. No potential Cabinet Minister ever moves more than twenty feet from the telephone in the twenty-four hours following the appointment of a new Prime Minister. If you haven’t heard within twenty-four hours, you’re not going to be in the Cabinet.
Annie kept me supplied with constant cups of coffee all morning, and when I returned to the armchair next to the phone after lunch she asked me to help do the Brussels sprouts for dinner if I didn’t have anything else to do. I explained to her that I couldn’t because I was waiting for the call.
‘Who from?’ Sometimes Annie really is a bit dense.
The phone rang. I grabbed it. It was Frank Weisel, my special political adviser, saying that he was on his way over. I told Annie, who wasn’t pleased.
‘Why doesn’t he just move in?’ she asked bitterly.
Sometimes I just don’t understand her. I patiently explained to her that, as my political adviser, I depend on Frank more than anyone. ‘Then why don’t you marry him?’ she asked. ‘I now pronounce you man and political adviser. Whom politics has joined let no wife put asunder.’
It is awfully difficult for Annie, I know. Being an MP’s wife is a pretty thankless task. But now that I may be a Minister, she’ll at last reap the rewards!
The phone rang all day. Alderman Spotteswoode, the Gas Board, Frank, all sorts of useless people ringing up to congratulate me. ‘On what?’ I said to Annie: ‘Don’t they realise I’m waiting for the call?’
She said, ‘You sound as if you’re about to enter the ministry.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘but which ministry, that’s the whole point.’
Suddenly Annie screamed. I couldn’t believe my ears. ‘It was a joke!’ she shouted, and started to pull her hair out. I decided that she must be a bit tense.
‘Are you a bit tense?’ I asked. She screamed again, and threw herself onto the floor. I thought of calling an ambulance, but was worried about the adverse publicity affecting my career at this crucial juncture — NEW MINISTER’S WIFE TAKEN AWAY IN STRAIT-JACKET.
‘Are you a bit tense?’ I asked again. Carefully.
‘No,’ she shouted — ‘No, no, no, I’m not tense. I’m just a politician’s wife. I’m not allowed to have feelings. I’m just a happy carefree politician’s wife.’
So I asked her why she was lying face downwards on the floor. ‘I’m looking for a cigarette. I can’t find any.’
‘Try the cigarette box,’ I advised, trying to keep calm.
‘It’s empty.’
‘Take a Valium.’
‘I can’t find the Valium, that’s why I’m looking for a cigarette. Jim, pop out and get me some.’
I explained to Annie that I simply didn’t dare leave the phone. Annie betrayed her usual total lack of understanding. ‘Look, if the PM wants you to be in the bloody Cabinet, the PM will phone back if you’re out. Or you can phone back.’
Annie will never understand the finer points of politics.
[Hacker was very insecure about his cabinet prospects because he had previously run Martin Walker’s campaign against the new PM for the leadership of the party. The question was whether the PM would be strong enough to ignore Jim Hacker or whether, in the interests of party unity, the PM would be obliged to give him a good job — Ed.]
By the end of today I’ve heard on the grapevine that Bill’s got Europe. Poor old Europe. Bill can’t speak French or German. He hardly even speaks English, as a matter of fact. Martin’s got the Foreign Office, as expected, Jack’s got Health and Fred’s got Energy.
I told Annie of these appointments, and she asked me if anyone had got Brains. I suppose she means Education.
October 24th
At last I’m a Cabinet Minister.
And today I had my first encounter with the Civil Service, and I must say I am very impressed.
I got the call from Number Ten at about 9 a.m., after a sleepless night, and immediately Frank Weisel and I caught the London train. I got a taxi to Number Ten, where I was asked by the PM to take over the Department of Administrative Affairs.
This is an important post. In the Cabinet ranking, about eighth or ninth I should think. On the other hand, Martin reminded me (when he phoned to congratulate me) that the DAA is a political graveyard, a bit like the Home Office, and the PM may have over-promoted me — a vengeful move. I am determined to get a grip on the DAA and prove to the PM that I’m not so easily taken care of.
I was expecting to be Minister of Agriculture, as I’ve shadowed Agriculture for seven years, and have many good ideas about it, but for some inexplicable reason the PM decided against this.
[We found a memo from Sir Andrew Donnelly, Permanent Secretary of Agriculture, to Sir Arnold Robinson, Secretary to the Cabinet, imploring Sir Arnold to make sure that Hacker did not get Agriculture as he was too ‘genned up’ on it. Cabinet Papers show that Sir Arnold managed to convey to the PM that it would be better for Hacker not to go to Agriculture because ‘he’s been thinking about it rather too long and is perhaps in a bit of a rut’ — Ed.]
An official car met me as I came out of Number Ten, and I was driven straight to the DAA. I was met on the front steps by Bernard Woolley, who is to be my Private Secretary, and his assistant. He seems a likeable enough chap.
To my surprise he instantly knew who Frank Weisel was, as we got out of the car, though he pronounced his name ‘Weasel’, which always infuriates Frank.
We walked down miles of corridors. When we got to my office Frank had disappeared with the Assistant Private Secretary. Bernard assured me that Frank was being taken care of. They really are awfully nice and helpful.
My office is large, with a big desk, a conference table with lots of chairs around it, and a few armchairs arranged around a coffee table to form a conversation area. Otherwise, rather characterless. Bernard immediately went to the drinks cupboard.
‘A drink, Minister?’
I nodded. ‘Jim,’ I said, as I want us to be on first-name terms.
‘Gin?’ he said, mishearing me.
‘No,’ I said, ‘Jim. Call me Jim.’
Bernard said: ‘If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather call you Minister, Minister.’
‘Minister, Minister?’ It reminded me of Major Major in Catch-22. Then I realised what he meant. I asked him, ‘Does that mean I have to call you Private Secretary, Private Secretary?’
Bernard said I was to call him Bernard. I’m sure that in the course of time I’ll persuade him to call me Jim.
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A moment later Sir Humphrey Appleby arrived. He is the Permanent Secretary of the DAA, the Civil Service Head of the Department. He is in his early fifties I should think, but — somehow — ageless. He is charming and intelligent, a typical mandarin. He welcomed me to the Department.
‘I believe you’ve met before,’ Bernard remarked. I was struck for the second time how well-informed this young man is.
Sir Humphrey said, ‘Yes, we did cross swords when the Minister gave me a grilling over the Estimates in the Public Accounts Committee last year. He asked me all the questions I hoped nobody would ask.’
This is splendid. Sir Humphrey clearly admires me. I tried to brush it off. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘Opposition’s about asking awkward questions.’
‘Yes,’ said Sir Humphrey, ‘and government is about not answering them.’
I was surprised. ‘But you answered all my questions, didn’t you,’ I commented.
‘I’m glad you thought so, Minister,’ said Sir Humphrey. I didn’t quite know what he meant by that. I decided to ask him who else was in the Department.
‘Briefly, sir, I am the Permanent Under-Secretary of State, known as the Permanent Secretary. Woolley here is your Principal Private Secretary. I, too, have a Principal Private Secretary, and he is the Principal Private Secretary to the Permanent Secretary. Directly responsible to me are ten Deputy Secretaries, eighty-seven Under-Secretaries and two hundred and nineteen Assistant Secretaries. Directly responsible to the Principal Private Secretaries are plain Private Secretaries. The Prime Minister will be appointing two Parliamentary Under-Secretaries and you will be appointing your own Parliamentary Private Secretary.’
‘Can they all type?’ I joked.
‘None of us can type, Minister,’ replied Sir Humphrey smoothly. ‘Mrs McKay types — she is your secretary.’
I couldn’t tell whether or not he was joking. ‘What a pity,’ I said. ‘We could have opened an agency.’
The Complete Yes Minister Page 1