The Complete Yes Minister

by Jonathan Lynn

  Mrs Hacker was becoming visibly less enthusiastic about Sarah Harrison’s promotion, minute by minute. She remarked that Hacker had never discussed what Sarah looked like.

  I laughed knowingly. I said that perhaps he hadn’t noticed, though that would be pretty hard to believe. I laid it on pretty thick — made her sound like a sort of administrative Elizabeth Taylor. I said that no man could fail to notice how attractive she was, especially the Minister, as he spends such a considerable amount of time with her. And will spend even more if she’s promoted.

  My feeling is that the Minister will get no further encouragement from home on this matter.

  [Appleby Papers 36/RJC/471]

  [Sir Arnold Robinson and Sir Humphrey Appleby were plainly quite confident, as we have already seen, that they could sway a sufficient number of Hacker’s Cabinet colleagues to vote against this proposal when it came before them.

  The source of their confidence was the practice, current in the 1970s and 1980s, of holding an informal meeting of Permanent Secretaries on Wednesday mornings. This meeting took place in the office of the Cabinet Secretary, had no agenda and was — almost uniquely among Civil Service meetings — unminuted.

  Permanent Secretaries would ‘drop in’ and raise any question of mutual interest. This enabled them all to be fully-briefed about any matters that were liable to confront their Ministers in Cabinet, which took place every Thursday morning, i.e. the next day. And it gave them time to give their Ministers encouragement or discouragement as they saw fit on particular issues.

  Fortunately Sir Humphrey’s diary reveals what occurred at the Permanent Secretaries’ meeting that fateful Wednesday morning — Ed.]

  I informed my colleagues that my Minister is intent on creating a quota of twenty-five per cent women in the open structure, leading to an eventual fifty per cent. Parity, in other words.

  Initially, my colleagues’ response was that it was an interesting suggestion.

  [‘Interesting’ was another Civil Service form of abuse, like ‘novel’ or, worse still, ‘imaginative’ — Ed.]

  Arnold set the tone for the proper response. His view was that it is right and proper that men and women be treated fairly and equally. In principle we should all agree, he said, that such targets should be set and goals achieved.

  Everyone agreed immediately that we should agree in principle to such an excellent idea, that it was right and proper to set such targets and achieve such goals.

  Arnold then canvassed several of my colleagues in turn, to see if they could implement this excellent proposal in their departments.

  Bill [Sir William Carter, Permanent Secretary at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office — Ed.] said that he was in full agreement, naturally. He believes that the Civil Service must institute some positive discrimination in favour of women. But regretfully he felt obliged to point out that it cannot happen in the FCO for obvious reasons. Clearly we cannot post women ambassadors to Iran, or any of the Muslim countries, for instance. Generally speaking most of the Third World countries are not as advanced as we are in connection with women’s rights — and as we have to send our diplomats to new postings every three years, and entertain many Islamic VIPs in this country, the proposal would definitely not work for the FCO. Nonetheless he wished to make it clear that he applauded the principle.

  Ian [Sir Ian Simpson, Permanent Secretary of the Home Office — Ed.] said that he was enthusiastically in favour of the principle. He believes we all could benefit from the feminine touch. Furthermore, women are actually better at handling some problems than men. He had no doubt about this. Regretfully, however, an exception would have to be made in the case of the Home Office: women are not the right people to run prisons, or the police. And quite probably, they wouldn’t want to do it anyway.

  We all agreed that this was probably so.

  Peter [Sir Peter Wainwright, Permanent Secretary of the Department of Defence — Ed.] said that, alas! the same applies to Defence. Women are hardly the people to control all those admirals and generals. Nor is it a practical possibility to place a woman at the Head of Security.

  I observed that M. would have to become F. This provoked a gratifying degree of merriment around the table.

  Arnold, speaking for us all, agreed that Defence must clearly be a man’s world. Like Industry. And Employment, with all those trade union barons to cope with.

  John [Sir John McKendrick, Permanent Secretary of the Department of Health and Social Security — Ed.] took an even more positive line. He was happy to inform us that women are already well represented near the top of the DHSS, which has two of the four women Dep. Secs. currently in Whitehall. Neither of them is in line for Permanent Secretary, obviously, as they are Deputy Chief Medical Officers (and in any case they may not be suitable for other reasons). Furthermore, women constitute eighty per cent of the typing grades, so he was delighted to be able to tell us that his Department is not doing too badly by them. He added that, in principle, he was in favour of them going to the very top.

  Arnold summed up all the views expressed: the feeling of the meeting was — unquestionably — that in principle we were all thoroughly in favour of equal rights for the ladies. It is just that there are special problems in individual departments.

  I raised again the question of the quota and stated that I was against it.

  Everyone immediately supported me. There was a feeling that it was not on and a bad idea — in fact a typical politician’s idea.

  I gave my view: namely, that we must always have the right to promote the best man for the job, regardless of sex.

  Furthermore — and I made it clear that I was speaking as an ardent feminist myself — I pointed out that the problem lay in recruiting the right sort of women. Married women with families tend to drop out because, in all honesty, they cannot give their work their full single-minded attention. And unmarried women with no children are not fully-rounded people with a thorough understanding of life.

  There was general agreement that family life was essential and that it was hard for spinsters to be fully-rounded individuals.

  I summed up my remarks by saying that, in practice, it is rarely possible to find a fully-rounded married woman with a happy home and three children who is prepared to devote virtually her whole life, day and night, to a Government Department. It’s Catch-22 — or, rather, Catch-22, sub-paragraph (a). This remark produced more gratifying merriment from my colleagues.

  Arnold had allowed considerable time for this discussion, which indicates the importance that he attached to the problem. He concluded the matter by asking everyone present to ensure that all of their respective Ministers oppose the quota idea in Cabinet by seeing that each Minister’s attention is drawn to each Department’s own special circumstances. But he also asked all present to be sure to recommend the principle of equal opportunities at every level.

  Through the chair, I made one final point. My Minister sees the promotion of women as one means of achieving greater diversity at the top of the Service. I asked all my colleagues to stress, when briefing their Ministers, that quite frankly one could not find a more diverse collection of people than us.

  It was unanimously agreed that we constitute a real cross-section of the nation. [Appleby Papers — 41/AAG/583]

  [Hacker’s diary continues — Ed.]

  November 4th

  Cabinet today. And with a very odd outcome. I put forward my proposal for a quota for women for top Civil Service jobs.

  All my Cabinet colleagues agreed in principle but then they all went on to say that it wouldn’t work in their particular Departments. So in the end they didn’t really support me at all.

  Curiously enough, I’m no longer getting the support from Annie that I was. Not about the quota, specifically, but about promoting Sarah. I had expected her to be at least one hundred per cent behind it. But she goes all distant when I talk about it. In fact, she seems to be dead against it now. Extraordinary.

  However, as th
e quota policy is now in ruins it seems that Sarah’s promotion is the only thing left that I can immediately achieve in this area. I have arranged that Humphrey and I speak to her tomorrow. I am determined to push it through.

  November 5th

  My whole equal opportunities policy is destroyed, and quite frankly I feel pretty bitter about the whole thing in general and women in particular. Or at least one particular woman in particular.

  Before I saw Sarah today I told Humphrey that we at least could make one tiny positive step today. Lighting a spark. [It was Guy Fawkes Day — Ed.]

  ‘Carrying a torch, even,’ he replied. What was that supposed to mean?

  Anyway, Sarah came in. I explained the background to her: that we have a vacancy for a Deputy Secretary in the Department and that, in spite of her being the most junior of our Under-Secs but because she is the outstanding person in her grade, we were happy to be able to tell her that Humphrey and I were recommending her for promotion to the rank of Deputy Secretary.

  Her reaction was a little surprising.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ And then she laughed.

  I couldn’t imagine what she was laughing at.

  ‘You don’t have to say anything,’ I said.

  ‘A simple thank you should suffice,’ said Humphrey.

  She was still smiling. Then she dropped the bombshell. ‘No — I mean — oh gosh! Look, this is awfully embarrassing — I mean, well, I was going to tell you next week — the fact is I’m resigning from the Civil Service.’

  You could have knocked me down with a feather. And Humphrey too, by the look of him.

  I said something brilliantly witty and apposite, like ‘What?’, and Humphrey gasped ‘resigning?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘So thank you, but no thank you.’

  Humphrey asked if there was some problem with her children at home.

  Bernard suggested mumps.

  I suggested that Bernard shut up.

  Sarah said she was joining a merchant bank. As a Director.

  She’ll earn more than me. Perhaps even more than Humphrey!

  I tried to explain to her that this news was a frightful blow. ‘You see, Sarah, the reason that I’m telling you of your promotion — or rather, Humphrey and I together — is that I have been fighting a losing battle to improve the promotion prospects of women at the top of the Service. And, well, you were to be my Trojan Horse.’

  She then explained the reason for her move. ‘Quite honestly, Minister, I want a job where I don’t spend endless hours circulating information that isn’t relevant about subjects that don’t matter to people who aren’t interested. I want a job where there is achievement rather than merely activity. I’m tired of pushing paper. I would like to be able to point at something and say “I did that.”’

  The irony of what she was saying was extraordinary. I understand her feeling only too well.

  Sir Humphrey didn’t. He looked blank. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said.

  She smiled. ‘I know. That’s why I’m leaving.’

  I explained that I did understand. But I asked her if she was saying that governing Britain is unimportant.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘it’s very important. It’s just that I haven’t met anyone who’s doing it.’

  She added that she’d had enough of the pointless intrigue. I asked what she had in mind. ‘Your using me as a Trojan Horse, for instance. And they probably told you that the unions wouldn’t wear it if you promoted me.’

  I was staggered. Had there been a leak? I asked her how she knew.

  She was delighted. She grinned from ear to ear. ‘Oh, I didn’t know. I just know how things are done here.’

  We both stared at Humphrey, who had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

  I made one last effort to persuade her to change her mind. ‘Look here, Sarah,’ I said sternly, ‘you don’t seem to appreciate that I’ve fought quite a battle for you.’

  Suddenly her eyes blazed. For the first time I recognised the toughness that had brought her to near the top. And the sense of style and dignity. I realised that I’d said something awfully wrong.

  ‘Oh, have you?’ she asked. ‘Well, I didn’t ask you to fight a battle for me. I’m not pleased at the idea of being part of a twenty-five per cent quota. Women are not inferior beings, and I don’t enjoy being patronised. I’m afraid you’re as paternalist and chauvinist as the rest of them. I’m going somewhere where I shall be accepted as an equal, on my own merits, as a person.’

  I was speechless. Clearly I’d offended her. And I suddenly realised that you can’t win.

  ‘May I go now?’

  There was, of course, no reason to keep her sitting there. I apologised for offending her, though I couldn’t see how I’d done it.

  ‘No,’ she said, in a kindly way. ‘And thank you — I know you both mean well.’ And off she went, leaving two very puzzled and deflated chaps.

  ‘Women!’ I said.

  ‘Yes Minister,’ murmured Humphrey, nodding sadly as if to say ‘I told you so!’

  [This was not quite the end of the matter. Recently published papers revealed that Hacker fought on for his twenty-five per cent quota for some considerable time — some weeks, anyway. And, as Sir Harold Wilson once said, a week is a long time in politics.

  Sir Humphrey’s ingenuity rose to the occasion. He warned Hacker that the Race Relations Board had heard on the grapevine of his proposed quota for women. He told Hacker that if there was to be any affirmative action within the Civil Service, there must also be a quota of blacks within the Civil Service. Sir Humphrey explained that there was a principle at stake.

  Hacker was less than enthusiastic about this new principle. He was certainly not a racist, but he could see clearly that whereas a quota for women was a vote-winner, a quota for blacks was in all probability a vote-loser.

  Some days later Hacker raised what he called ‘this whole business of minority groups — women, blacks, trades unionists and so forth’.

  Sir Humphrey explained to Hacker that women and trades unionists were not minority groups, even though they share the same paranoia which is the hallmark of any minority group.

  So finally Hacker proposed what Appleby had always proposed: namely, that they start by creating equal opportunities for both women and blacks. In the recruitment grades.

  And they drew up terms of reference for an interdepartmental committee to report on methods of choosing the right individuals to be civil servants, to report four years hence. By which time Hacker would certainly no longer be the Minister — Ed.]

  [In early November Jim Hacker apparently bought a microcomputer. An ex-journalist, he was a competent typist and for the next three months all of his diary was committed to the memory of his computer by means of the word-processing software.

  Unfortunately, in early March of the year following he accidentally erased everything on his floppy disc. Abandoning word-processing for ever, he resumed dictation into the cassette recorder on 10 March Ed.]

  16 The Challenge

  March 10th

  Wonderful news today. I had a call at home last night to go straight to Number Ten this morning.

  When I got there I was told of a big Government administrative reorganisation. Not a reshuffle; I stay Minister of Administrative Affairs at the DAA. But I’ve been given a new remit: local government. It’s quite a challenge.

  [Later that day Hacker was interviewed by Ludovic Kennedy in The World at One, a popular radio current affairs programme in the 1970s and 80s.

  We have obtained a transcript of the broadcast discussion, which we reproduce below — Ed.]

  [The following day Sir Humphrey Appleby received a note from Sir Arnold Robinson, Secretary of the Cabinet. We reproduce below the exchange of notes that ensued — Ed.]

  The reply from Sir Humphrey Appleby:

  A reply from Sir Arnold Robinson:

  [On the same date, 12 March, Sir Humphrey made a reference to t
his exchange of notes in his diary — Ed.]

  Received a couple of notes from A.R. Clearly he’s worried that Hacker may overstep the mark. I’ve made it plain that I know my duty.

  Nonetheless, A. made a superb suggestion: that I divert Hacker by getting him to look into Civil Defence. By which he means fall-out shelters.

  This is a most amusing notion. Everybody knows that Civil Defence is not a serious issue, merely a desperate one. And it is thus best left to those whose incapacity can be relied upon: local authorities.

  It is a hilarious thought that, since the highest duty of government is to protect its citizens, it has been decided to leave it to the Borough Councils.

  [Hacker’s diary continues — Ed.]

  March 15th

  I met a very interesting new adviser today: Dr Richard Cartwright.

  We were having a meeting of assorted officials, of which he was one. I noticed that we hadn’t even been properly introduced to each other, which I had presumed was some sort of oversight.

  But, as the meeting was breaking up, this shambling figure of an elderly schoolboy placed himself directly in front of me and asked me in a soft Lancashire accent if he could have a brief word with me.

  Naturally I agreed. Also, I was intrigued. He looked a bit different from most of my officials — a baggy tweed sports jacket, leather elbows, mousy hair brushed forward towards thick spectacles. He looked like a middle-aged ten-year-old. If I’d tried to guess his profession, I would have guessed prep school science master.

  ‘It’s about a proposal, worked out before we were transferred to this Department,’ he said in his comforting high-pitched voice.

  ‘And you are…?’ I asked. I still didn’t know who he was.

  ‘I am… what?’ he asked me.

  I thought he was going to tell me what his job is. ‘Yes,’ I asked, ‘you are what?’

  He seemed confused. ‘What?’

  Now I was confused. ‘What?’

  ‘I’m Dr Cartwright.’