The Complete Yes Minister

by Jonathan Lynn

  ‘How many articles did you blue-pencil and tear up in those days?’ she asked.

  ‘Dozens,’ I remembered.

  ‘And how many official papers have you torn up?’

  ‘None,’ I told her. ‘I’m not allowed to.’

  She smiled reproachfully at me, and I realised that I still hadn’t broken out of this destructive pattern of behaviour.

  ‘Not allowed to?’ She held my hand. ‘Darling, you’re the Minister. You can do anything you like.’

  She’s right. I am. I can. And, somehow, all my officials have house-trained me. I see it now. Honestly, I’m so grateful to Annie, she has such remarkable common sense. Well, they’re going to get quite a surprise. Suddenly, I can’t wait to get to the office. My New Year Resolution is: Take Charge.

  January 11th

  Today was better.

  But only a little better. My attitude was fine, but unfortunately his didn’t seem to change all that much.

  I summoned Humphrey to my office. I don’t think he liked being summoned. Then I told him that Frank was absolutely correct, and Bob McKenzie too — the National Data Base has to be organised differently.

  To my surprise, he agreed meekly. ‘Yes Minister,’ he murmured.

  ‘We are going to have all possible built-in safeguards,’ I went on.

  ‘Yes Minister,’ he murmured again.

  ‘Right away,’ I added. This took him by surprise.

  ‘Er… what precisely do you mean, right away?’

  ‘I mean right away,’ I said.

  ‘Oh I see, you mean right away, Minister.’

  ‘Got it in one, Humphrey.’

  So far, so good. But, having totally accepted at the start of the conversation that it was all to be different, he now started to chip away at my resolve.

  ‘The only thing is,’ he began, ‘perhaps I should remind you that we are still in the early months of this government and there’s an awful lot to get on with, Minister…’

  I interrupted. ‘Humphrey,’ I reiterated firmly, ‘we are changing the rules of the Data Base. Now!’

  ‘But you can’t, Minister,’ he said, coming out into the open.

  ‘I can,’ I said, remembering my stern talk from Annie last night, ‘I’m the Minister.’

  He changed tactics again. ‘Indeed you are, Minister,’ he said, rapidly switching from bullying to grovelling, ‘and quite an excellent Minister at that, if I may say so.’

  I brushed all the flannel aside. ‘Never mind the soft soap, Humphrey,’ I replied. ‘I want all citizens to have the right to check their own file, and I want legislation to make unauthorised access to personal files illegal.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Sir Humphrey. ‘It shall be done.’

  This rather took the wind out of my sails. ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Good,’ I said. ‘Then we go ahead,’ I said, wondering what the catch was.

  I was right. There was a catch. Sir Humphrey took this opportunity to explain to me that we can go ahead, if the Cabinet agrees, and take the matter to the Ministerial Committee, and then we can go ahead to the Official Committee. After that, of course, it’s all plain sailing — straight to the Cabinet Committee! And then back to Cabinet itself. I interrupted to point out that we’d started with Cabinet.

  ‘Only the policy, Minister,’ explained Sir Humphrey. ‘At this juncture Cabinet will have to consider the specific proposals.’

  I conceded the point, but remarked that after going back to Cabinet we could then go ahead. Sir Humphrey agreed — but with the proviso that if Cabinet raises any questions, which it almost certainly would, the proposals would then have to go back to the Ministerial Committee, the Official Committee, the Cabinet Committee and the Cabinet again.

  ‘I know all this,’ I said brusquely. ‘I’m assuming that Cabinet will raise no objections.’ Sir Humphrey raised his eyebrows and visibly refrained from comment.

  I didn’t know all this at all, actually — the complex mechanics of passing legislation don’t ever really become clear to you in Opposition or on the back benches.

  ‘So after Cabinet, we go ahead. Right?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘to the Leader of the House Committee. And then to Parliament — where there’s the Committee stage of course.’

  But suddenly the penny dropped. Suddenly I realised he was blurring the whole issue. A blindfold dropped away from my eyes, as if by magic. ‘Humphrey,’ I said, ‘you’re talking about legislation — but I’m talking about administrative and procedural changes.’

  Sir Humphrey smiled complacently. ‘If members of the public are to have the right to take legal action, then legislation is necessary and it will be very complicated.’

  I had the answer to that. ‘Legislation is not necessary in order for the citizen to be able to see his own file, is it?’

  Sir Humphrey thought carefully about this. ‘No-o-o-o,’ he finally said, with great reluctance.

  ‘Then we’ll go ahead with that.’ Round one to me, I thought.

  But Sir Humphrey had not yet conceded even that much. ‘Minister,’ he began, ‘we could manage that slightly quicker, but there are an awful lot of administrative problems as well.’

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘this must have come up before. This Data Base has been in preparation for years, it hasn’t just materialised overnight — these problems must have been discussed.’

  ‘Yes indeed,’ he agreed.

  ‘So what conclusions have been reached?’ I asked.

  Sir Humphrey didn’t reply. At first I thought he was thinking. Then I thought he hadn’t heard me, for some curious reason. So I asked him again: ‘What conclusions have been reached?’ a little louder, just in case. Again there was no visible reaction. I thought he’d become ill.

  ‘Humphrey,’ I asked, becoming a little concerned for his health and sanity, ‘can you hear me?’

  ‘My lips are sealed,’ he replied, through unsealed lips.

  I asked him what exactly he meant.

  ‘I am not at liberty to discuss the previous government’s plans,’ he said. I was baffled.

  ‘Why not?’ I asked.

  ‘Minister — would you like everything that you have said and done in the privacy of this office to be revealed subsequently to one of your opponents?’

  I’d never thought of that. Of course, I’d be absolutely horrified. It would be a constant threat. I would never be able to speak freely in my own office.

  Sir Humphrey knew that he’d scored a bull’s-eye. He pressed home his advantage. ‘We cannot give your political opponents ammunition against you — nor vice versa.’

  Of course, I can see his point but there is one essential difference in this instance. I pointed out to Sir Humphrey that Tom Sargent was my predecessor, and he wouldn’t mind. He’s a very decent chap. After all, the Data Base is not a party political matter, politicians of all parties are united on this.

  But Sir Humphrey wouldn’t budge. ‘It’s the principle, Minister,’ he said, and added that it just wouldn’t be cricket.

  This was a powerful argument. Naturally I don’t want to do anything that’s not cricket. So I suppose I’ll never know what went on before I came here. I can’t see a way round that.

  So where have we got to? We’ve established that we don’t need legislation to enable the citizen to see his own file, but that there are numerous unspecified admin. problems that have to be solved first.

  One other thing occurred today. Bernard said that because of the adverse (Bernard called it ‘not entirely favourable’) press reaction to my appearance on Topic, the other network wants me to appear on their programme World in Focus. Funny how television is never interested when you’ve got an important announcement to make, but the moment some trivial thing goes wrong the phone never stops ringing. At first I told him to decline, but he said that if I don’t appear they’ll do the item anyway, and no one will be there to state my case.

  I asked Humphrey what I was to say about safeguards for the Data Base,
in view of our very limited progress today. ‘Perhaps you could remind them, Minister, that Rome wasn’t built in a day.’

  Big help!

  As I review the meeting, writing it all down for this diary, I now feel that I got absolutely nowhere today. But there must be some way to get Sir Humphrey and the DAA to do what I tell them.

  [In the light of Hacker’s experience and frustrations, it is as well to remember that if a Whitehall committee is not positively stopped, it will continue. There could be a Crimea committee, for all we know. There is very probably a ration-book committee and an identity-card committee — Ed.]

  January 12th

  Today, by a lucky chance, I learned a bit more about dealing with Sir Humphrey.

  I bumped into Tom Sargent, in the House of Commons smoking room. I asked if I could join him, and he was only too pleased.

  ‘How are you enjoying being in Opposition?’ I asked him jocularly.

  Like the good politician he is, he didn’t exactly answer my question. ‘How are you enjoying being in government?’ he replied.

  I could see no reason to beat about the bush, and I told him that, quite honestly, I’m not enjoying it as much as I’d expected to.

  ‘Humphrey got you under control?’ he smiled.

  I dodged that one, but said that it’s so very hard to get anything done. He nodded, so I asked him, ‘Did you get anything done?’

  ‘Almost nothing,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘But I didn’t cotton on to his technique till I’d been there over a year — and then of course there was the election.’

  It emerged from the conversation that the technique in question was Humphrey’s system for stalling.

  According to Tom, it’s in five stages. I made a note during our conversation, for future reference.

  Stage One: Humphrey will say that the administration is in its early months and there’s an awful lot of other things to get on with. (Tom clearly knows his stuff. That is just what Humphrey said to me the day before yesterday.)

  Stage Two: If I persist past Stage One, he’ll say that he quite appreciates the intention, something certainly ought to be done — but is this the right way to achieve it?

  Stage Three: If I’m still undeterred he will shift his ground from how I do it to when I do it, i.e. ‘Minister, this is not the time, for all sorts of reasons.’

  Stage Four: Lots of Ministers settle for Stage Three according to Tom. But if not, he will then say that the policy has run into difficulties — technical, political and/or legal. (Legal difficulties are best because they can be made totally incomprehensible and can go on for ever.)

  Stage Five: Finally, because the first four stages have taken up to three years, the last stage is to say that ‘we’re getting rather near to the run-up to the next general election — so we can’t be sure of getting the policy through’.

  The stages can be made to last three years because at each stage Sir Humphrey will do absolutely nothing until the Minister chases him. And he assumes, rightly, that the Minister has too much else to do. [The whole process is called Creative Inertia — Ed.]

  Tom asked me what the policy was that I’m trying to push through. When I told him that I’m trying to make the National Integrated Data Base less of a Big Brother, he roared with laughter.

  ‘I suppose he’s pretending it’s all new?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Clever old sod,’ said Tom, ‘we spent years on that. We almost had a White Paper ready to bring out, but the election was called. I’ve done it all.’

  I could hardly believe my ears. I asked about the administrative problems. Tom said there were none — all solved. And Tom guessed that my enquiries about the past were met with silence — ‘clever bugger, he’s wiped the slate clean’.

  Anyway, now I know the five stages, I should be able to deal with Humphrey quite differently. Tom advised me not to let on that we’d had this conversation, because it would spoil the fun. He also warned me of the ‘Three Varieties of Civil Service Silence’, which would be Humphrey’s last resort if completely cornered:

  The silence when they do not want to tell you the facts: Discreet Silence.

  The silence when they do not intend to take any action: Stubborn Silence.

  The silence when you catch them out and they haven’t a leg to stand on. They imply that they could vindicate themselves completely if only they were free to tell all, but they are too honourable to do so: Courageous Silence.

  Finally Tom told me what Humphrey’s next move would be. He asked how many boxes they’d given me for tonight: ‘Three? Four?’

  ‘Five,’ I admitted, somewhat shamefaced.

  ‘Five?’ He couldn’t hide his astonishment at how badly I was doing. ‘Have they told you that you needn’t worry too much about the fifth?’ I nodded. ‘Right. Well, I’ll bet you that at the bottom of the fifth box will be a submission explaining why any new moves on the Data Base must be delayed — and if you never find it or read it they’ll do nothing further, and in six months’ time they’ll say they told you all about it.’

  There was one more thing I wanted to ask Tom, who really had been extremely kind and helpful. He’s been in office for years, in various government posts. So I said to him: ‘Look Tom, you know all the Civil Service tricks.’

  ‘Not all,’ he grinned, ‘just a few hundred.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Now how do you defeat them? How do you make them do something they do not want to do?’

  Tom smiled ruefully, and shook his head. ‘My dear fellow,’ he replied, ‘if I knew that I wouldn’t be in Opposition.’

  January 13th

  I did my boxes so late last night that I’m writing up yesterday’s discoveries a day late.

  Tom had been most helpful to me. When I got home I told Annie all about it over dinner. She couldn’t understand why Tom, as a member of the Opposition, would have been so helpful.

  I explained to her that the Opposition aren’t really the opposition. They’re just called the Opposition. But, in fact, they are the opposition in exile. The Civil Service are the opposition in residence.

  Then after dinner I did the boxes and sure enough, at the bottom of the fifth box, I found a submission on the Data Base. Not merely at the bottom of the fifth box — to be doubly certain the submission had somehow slipped into the middle of an eighty-page report on Welfare Procedures.

  By the way, Tom has also lent me all his private papers on the Data Base, which he kept when he left office. Very useful!

  The submission contained the expected delaying phrases: ‘Subject still under discussion… programme not finalised… nothing precipitate… failing instructions to the contrary propose await developments.’

  Annie suggested I ring Humphrey and tell him that I disagree. I was reluctant — it was 2 a.m., and he’d be fast asleep.

  ‘Why should he sleep while you’re working?’ Annie asked me. ‘After all, he’s had you on the run for three months. Now it’s your turn.’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly do that,’ I said.

  Annie looked at me. ‘What’s his number?’ I asked, as I reached for our address book.

  Annie added reasonably: ‘After all, if it was in the fifth box you couldn’t have found it any earlier, could you?’

  Humphrey answered the phone with a curious sort of grunting noise. I had obviously woken him up. ‘Sorry to ring you so late, you weren’t in the middle of dinner, were you?’

  ‘No,’ he said, sounding somewhat confused, ‘we had dinner some while ago. What’s the time?’

  I told him it was 2 a.m.

  ‘Good God!’ He sounded as though he’d really woken up now. ‘What’s the crisis?’

  ‘No crisis. I’m still going through my red boxes and I knew you’d still be hard at it.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said, stifling a yawn. ‘Nose to the grindstone.’

  I told him I’d just got to the paper on the Data Base.

  ‘Oh, you’ve found…’ he corrected himself without pa
using, ‘you’ve read it.’

  I told him that I thought he needed to know, straight away, that I wasn’t happy with it, that I knew he’d be grateful to have a little extra time to work on something else, and that I hoped he didn’t mind my calling him.

  ‘Always a pleasure to hear from you, Minister,’ he said, and I think he slammed down the phone.

  After I rang off I realised I’d forgotten to tell him to come and talk about it before Cabinet tomorrow. I was about to pick up the phone when Annie said: ‘Don’t ring him now.’

  I was surprised by this sudden show of kindness and consideration for Sir Humphrey, but I agreed. ‘No, perhaps it is a bit late.’

  She smiled. ‘Yes. Just give him another ten minutes.’

  January 14th

  This morning I made a little more progress in my battle for control over Humphrey and my Department, though the battle is not yet won.

  But I had with me my notes from the meeting with Tom Sargent, and — exactly as Tom had predicted — Sir Humphrey put his stalling technique into bat.

  ‘Humphrey,’ I began, ‘have you drafted the proposed safeguards for the Data Base?’

  ‘Minister,’ he replied plausibly, ‘I quite appreciate your intention and I fully agree that there is a need for safeguards but I’m wondering if this is the right way to achieve it.’

  ‘It’s my way,’ I said decisively, and I ticked off the first objection in my little notebook. ‘And that’s my decision.’

  Humphrey was surprised that his objection had been brushed aside so early, without protracted discussion — so surprised that he went straight on to his second stage.

  ‘Even so Minister,’ he said, ‘this is not really the time, for all sorts of reasons.’

  I ticked off number two in my notebook, and replied: ‘It is the perfect time — safeguards have to develop parallel with systems, not after them — that’s common sense.’

  Humphrey was forced to move on to his third objection. Tom really has analysed his technique well.

  ‘Unfortunately, Minister,’ said Humphrey doggedly, ‘we have tried this before, but, well… we have run into all sorts of difficulties.’