The Complete Yes Minister

by Jonathan Lynn

  I asked him if he had all these talents. With a modest shrug he replied: ‘Well, it’s just that one has been properly…’

  ‘Matured,’ I interjected. ‘Like Grimsby.’

  ‘Trained.’ He corrected me with a tight-lipped smile.

  ‘Humphrey,’ I said, ‘ask yourself honestly if the system is not at fault. Why are there so few women Deputy Secretaries?’

  ‘They keep leaving,’ he explained, with an air of sweet reason, ‘to have babies. And things.’

  This struck me as a particularly preposterous explanation, ‘Leaving to have babies? At the age of nearly fifty? Surely not!’

  But Sir Humphrey appeared to believe it. Desperately he absolved himself of all responsibility or knowledge. ‘Really Minister, I don’t know. Really I don’t. I’m on your side. We do indeed need more women at the top.’

  ‘Good,’ I replied decisively, ‘because I’m not waiting twenty-five years. We’ve got a vacancy for a Deputy Secretary here, haven’t we?’

  He was instantly on his guard. He even thought cautiously for a moment before replying.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Very well. We shall appoint a woman. Sarah Harrison.’

  Again he was astounded, or aghast, or appalled. Something like that. Definitely not pleased, anyway. But he contented himself with merely repeating her name, in a quiet controlled voice.

  ‘Sarah Harrison?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I think she’s very able. Don’t you?’

  ‘Very able, for a woman. For a person.’ He had corrected himself with scarcely a hesitation.

  ‘And,’ I added, ‘she has ideas. She’s an original thinker.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s true,’ agreed Sir Humphrey, ‘but she doesn’t let it interfere with her work.’

  So I asked him what he had against her. He insisted that he had nothing against her, that he was totally pro her. He confirmed that she is an excellent worker, and he pointed out that he is a great supporter of hers and had in fact advocated her promotion to Under-Secretary only last year at a very early age.

  ‘Would you say she is an outstanding Under-Secretary?’ I asked him.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, without equivocation.

  ‘So,’ I said, ‘on balance it’s a good idea, isn’t it?’

  ‘On balance? Yes… and no.’

  I told him that that was not a clear answer. He said it was a balanced answer. Touché. Then he went on to explain that the point is, in his opinion, that she’s too young and it’s not her turn yet.

  I leaped upon that argument. I’d been expecting it. ‘That is precisely what’s wrong with the Civil Service — Buggins’ Turn! Whereas the best people should be promoted, as soon as possible.’

  ‘Exactly,’ agreed Sir Humphrey, ‘as soon as it’s their turn.’

  ‘Rubbish. Napoleon ruled Europe in his thirties. Alexander the Great conquered the world in his twenties.’

  ‘They would have made very poor Deputy Secretaries,’ remarked Sir Humphrey contemptuously.

  ‘At least they didn’t wait their turn,’ I pointed out.

  ‘And look what happened to them.’ Sir Humphrey clearly thought he’d won our little debate. So I decided to make the argument rather more personal.

  ‘Look what’s happened to us,’ I said calmly. ‘Instead of this country being run by bright energetic youthful brains it is being run by tired routine-bound fifty-five-year-olds who just want a quiet life.’

  Humphrey stared at me coldly. ‘Had you anyone specific in mind, Minister?’

  I smiled. ‘Yes… and no, Humphrey.’ Game, set and match to yours truly, I felt.

  Sir Humphrey decided to move the debate back to the specific problem. He informed me, in his most matter-of-fact fashion, that Sarah Harrison is an excellent civil servant and a bright hope for the future. But he also reiterated that she is our most junior Under-Secretary and that he cannot and will not recommend her for promotion.

  There was a clear implication in that final comment that it was ultimately up to him, and that I should mind my own business.

  I told him he was a sexist.

  I’m surprised he didn’t laugh at me. Surprisingly, this trendy insult seemed to cut him to the quick. He was outraged.

  ‘Minister,’ he complained bitterly, ‘how can you say such a thing? I’m very pro-women. Wonderful people, women. And Sarah Harrison is a dear lady. I’m one of her most ardent admirers. But the fact is that if the cause of women is to be advanced it must be done with tact and care and discretion. She is our only woman contender for a top job. We mustn’t push her too fast. Women find top jobs very difficult, you know.’

  He is a sexist.

  ‘Can you hear yourself?’ I asked incredulously.

  Unabashed, he continued in the same vein. ‘If women were able to be good Permanent Secretaries, there would be more of them, wouldn’t there? Stands to reason.’

  I’ve never before heard a reply that so totally begs the question.

  ‘No Humphrey!’ I began, wondering where to begin.

  But on he went. ‘I’m no anti-feminist. I love women. Some of my best friends are women. My wife, indeed.’ Methinks Sir Humphrey doth protest too much. And on and on he went. ‘Sarah Harrison is not very experienced, Minister, and her two children are still of school age, they might get mumps.’

  Another daft argument. Anybody can be temporarily off work through their own ill-health, not just their children’s. ‘You might get shingles, Humphrey, if it comes to that,’ I said.

  He missed my point. ‘I might indeed, Minister, if you continue in this vein,’ he muttered balefully. ‘But what if her children caused her to miss work all the time?’

  I asked him frankly if this were likely. I asked if she were likely to have reached the rank of Under-Secretary if her children kept having mumps. I pointed out that she was the best person for the job.

  He didn’t disagree about that. But he gave me an indignant warning: ‘Minister, if you go around promoting women just because they’re the best person for the job, you could create a lot of resentment throughout the whole Civil Service.’

  ‘But not from the women in it,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Ah,’ said Sir Humphrey complacently, ‘but there are so few of them that it wouldn’t matter so much.’

  A completely circular argument. Perhaps this is what is meant by moving in Civil Service circles.

  [Later in the week Sir Humphrey Appleby had lunch with Sir Arnold Robinson, the Cabinet Secretary, at the Athenaeum Club. Sir Humphrey, as always, made a note on one of his pieces of memo paper — Ed.]

  Arnold’s feelings are the same as mine when it comes to women. But like me — and unlike the Minister — he sees quite clearly that they are different from us. In the following ways:-

  Bad for teamwork: they put strains on a team, by reacting differently from us.

  Too emotional: they are not rational like us.

  Can’t be Reprimanded: they either get into a frightful bate or start blubbing.

  Can be Reprimanded: some of them can be, but are frightfully hard and butch and not in the least bit attractive.

  Prejudices: they are full of them.

  Silly Generalisations: they make them.

  Stereotypes: they think in them.

  I asked Arnold for his advice. Arnold suggested that I lecture the Minister at such length on the matter that he becomes bored and loses interest in the whole idea.

  There is a remote chahce of success for such a plan. But Hacker does not get bored easily. He even finds himself interesting. They all do in fact. All the ones who listen to what they’re saying of course. On second thoughts, that is by no means all of them.

  But the fact remains that Hacker’s boredom threshold is high. He even reads most of the stuff that we put into his red boxes, with apparent interest!

  Arnold also suggested that standard second ploy: to tell the Minister that the Unions won’t wear it. [‘It’ being the importation of women int
o the Service to fill some top jobs — Ed.] We agreed that this was a line of action worth pursuing.

  We also discussed the feminine angle. His wife [the Minister’s, that is — Ed.] is in favour of promoting the Harrison female, and may well — from what I know of Mrs Hacker — be behind all this. However, she may not know that Harrison is extremely attractive. I’m sure Mrs H. and Mrs H. have never met. This could well be fruitful.

  I pointed out that the Cabinet will be in favour of Hacker’s proposal. But we agreed that we could doubtless get the Cabinet to change their minds. They change their minds fairly easily. Just like a lot of women. Thank God they don’t blub.

  [Appleby Papers 37/6PJ/457]

  [It is interesting to compare Sir Humphrey’s self-confident account of this luncheon with the notes made by Sir Arnold Robinson on Sir Humphrey’s report, which were found among the Civil Service files at Walthamstow — Ed.]

  Told Appleby that I wasn’t impressed with his Minister’s plan to bring in women from outside, novel though the idea may be.

  [‘Wasn’t impressed’ would be an example of Civil Service understatement. Readers may imagine the depth of feeling behind such a phrase. The use of the Civil Service killer word ‘novel’ is a further indication of Sir Arnold’s hostility — Ed.]

  Suggested that he bore the Minister out of the idea. Appleby claimed that this would not work. Probably correctly.

  So I made various other suggestions. For instance, the Trade Union ploy: suggesting to the Minister that the Unions won’t wear it. Appleby missed the point completely. He told me that the Unions would like it. He’s probably right, but it was completely beside the point!

  I also suggested pointing the Minister’s wife in the right direction. And suggested that we try to ensure that the Cabinet throws it out. Appleby agreed to try all these plans. But I am disturbed that he had thought of none of them himself.

  Must keep a careful eye on H.A. Is early retirement a possibility to be discussed with the PM?

  A.R.

  [Naturally, Sir Humphrey never saw these notes, because no civil servant is ever shown his report except in wholly exceptional circumstances.

  And equally naturally, Hacker never knew of the conversation between Sir Arnold and Sir Humphrey over luncheon at the Athenaeum.

  It was in this climate of secrecy that our democracy used to operate. Civil servants’ word for secrecy was ‘discretion’. They argued that discretion was the better part of valour — Ed.]

  [Hacker’s diary continues — Ed.]

  November 1st

  Sir Humphrey walked into my office today, sat down and made the most startling remark that I have yet heard from him.

  ‘Minister,’ he said, ‘I have come to the conclusion that you were right.’

  I’ve been nothing but right ever since I took on this job, and finally, after nearly a year, it seemed that he was beginning to take me seriously.

  However, I was immediately suspicious, and I asked him to amplify his remark. I had not the least idea to which matter he was referring. Of course, asking Humphrey to amplify his remarks is often a big mistake.

  ‘I am fully-seized of your ideas and have taken them on board and I am now positively against discrimination against women and positively in favour of positive discrimination in their favour — discriminating discrimination of course.’

  I think it was something like that. I got the gist of it anyway.

  Then he went on, to my surprise: ‘I understand a view is forming at the very highest level that this should happen.’ I think he must have been referring to the PM. Good news.

  Then, to my surprise he asked why the matter of equal opportunities for women should not apply to politics as well as the Civil Service. I was momentarily confused. But he explained that there are only twenty-three women MPs out of a total of six hundred and fifty. I agreed that this too is deplorable, but, alas, there is nothing at all that we can do about that.

  He remarked that these figures were an indication of discrimination against women by the political parties. Clearly, he argued, the way they select candidates is fundamentally discriminatory.

  I found myself arguing in defence of the parties. It was a sort of reflex action. ‘Yes and no,’ I agreed. ‘You know, it’s awfully difficult for women to be MPs — long hours, debates late at night, being away from home a lot. Most women have a problem with that and with homes, and husbands.’

  ‘And mumps,’ he added helpfully.

  I realised that he was sending me up. And simultaneously trying to suggest that I too am a sexist. An absurd idea, of course, and I told him so in no uncertain terms.

  I steered the discussion towards specific goals and targets. I asked what we would do to start implementing our plan.

  Humphrey said that the first problem would be that the unions won’t agree to this quota.

  I was surprised to hear this, and immediately suggested that we get them in to talk about it.

  This suggestion made him very anxious. ‘No, no, no,’ he said. ‘No. That would stir up a hornet’s nest.’

  I couldn’t see why. Either Humphrey was paranoid about the unions — or it was just a ploy to frighten me. I suspect the latter. [Hacker was now learning fast — Ed.]

  The reason I suspect a trick is that he offered no explanation as to why we shouldn’t talk to the union leaders. Instead he went off on an entirely different tack.

  ‘If I might suggest we be realistic about this…’ he began.

  I interrupted. ‘By realistic, do you mean drop the whole scheme?’

  ‘No!’ he replied vehemently. ‘Certainly not! But perhaps a pause to regroup, a lull in which we reassess the position and discuss alternative strategies, a space of time for mature reflection and deliberation…’

  I interrupted again. ‘Yes, you mean drop the whole scheme.’ This time I wasn’t asking a question. And I dealt with the matter with what I consider to be exemplary firmness. I told him that I had set my hand to the plough and made my decision. ‘We shall have a twenty-five per cent quota of women in the open structure in four years from now. And to start with I shall promote Sarah Harrison to Dep. Sec.’

  He was frightfully upset. ‘No Minister!’ he cried in vain. ‘I’m sure that’s the wrong decision.’

  This was quite a remarkable reaction from the man who had begun the meeting by telling me that I was absolutely right.

  I emphasised that I could not be moved on this matter because it is a matter of principle. I added that I shall have a word with my Cabinet colleagues, who are bound to support me as there are a lot of votes in women’s rights.

  ‘I thought you said it was a matter of principle, Minister, not of votes.’

  He was being too clever by half. I was able to explain, loftily, that I was referring to my Cabinet colleagues. For me it is a matter of principle.

  A very satisfactory meeting. I don’t think he can frustrate me on this one.

  November 2nd

  Had a strange evening out with Annie. She collected me from the office at 5.30, because we had to go to a party drinks ‘do’ at Central House.

  I had to keep her waiting a while because my last meeting of the day ran late, and I had a lot of letters to sign.

  Signing letters, by the way, is an extraordinary business because there are so many of them. Bernard lays them out in three or four long rows, all running the full length of my conference table — which seats twelve a side. Then I whiz along the table, signing the letters as I go. It’s quicker to move me than them. As I go Bernard collects the signed letters up behind me, and moves a letter from the second row to replace the signed and collected one in the first row. Then I whiz back along the table, signing the next row.

  I don’t actually read them all that carefully. It shows the extent of my trust for Bernard. Sometimes I think that I might sign absolutely anything if I were in a big enough hurry.

  Bernard had an amusing bit of news for me today.

  ‘You remember that
letter you wrote “Round objects” on?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well,’ he said with a slight smile, ‘it’s come back from Sir Humphrey’s office. He commented on it.’

  And he showed me the letter. In the margin Humphrey had written: ‘Who is Round and to what does he object?’

  Anyway, I digress. While all this signing was going on, Annie was given a sherry by Humphrey in his office. I thought it was jolly nice of him to take the trouble to be sociable when he could have been on the 5.59 for Haslemere. Mind you, I think he likes Annie and anyway perhaps he thinks it’s politic to chat up the Minister’s wife.

  But, as I say, Annie and I had a strange evening. She seemed rather cool and remote. I asked her if anything was wrong, but she wouldn’t say what. Perhaps she resented my keeping her waiting so long, because I know she finds Humphrey incredibly boring. Still, that’s the penalty you have to pay if you’re married to a successful man.

  [A note in Sir Humphrey’s diary reveals the true cause of Mrs Hacker’s disquiet — Ed.]

  Had a sherry with Mrs Hacker this evening. The Minister was delayed signing letters, which was not entirely coincidental. Naturally I had taken care to ensure that his previous meeting overran somewhat.

  I brought the conversation around to the matter of changing and reforming the Civil Service. As expected, she was pretty keen on the whole idea.

  Immediately she asked me about the promotion of the Harrison female. ‘What about promoting this woman that Jim was talking about?’

  I talked about it all with great enthusiasm. I said that the Minister certainly has an eye for talent. I said that Sarah was undoubtedly very talented. And thoroughly delightful. A real charmer.

  I continued for many minutes in the same vein. I said how much I admired this new generation of women civil servants compared with the old battle-axes of yesteryear. I said that naturally most of the new generation aren’t as beautiful as Sarah, but they all are thoroughly feminine.