The Complete Yes Minister

by Jonathan Lynn

  You may ask: What were we at the DAA? In fact, we were neither right nor left. Our main client was the Civil Service itself, and therefore our real interest was in defending the Civil Service against the Government.

  Strict constitutional theory holds that the Civil Service should be committed to carrying out the Government’s wishes. And so it was, as long as the Government’s wishes were practicable. By which we meant, as long as we thought they were practicable. After all, how else can you judge?

  [Hacker’s diary continues — Ed.]

  August 19th

  Today Humphrey and I discussed Wednesday’s meeting.

  And it was now clear to me that I had to get out of the commitment that I had made. Quite clearly, Transport Supremo is a title that’s not worth having.

  I said to Humphrey that we had to find a way to force the PM’s hand.

  ‘Do you mean “we” plural — or do Supremos now use the royal pronoun?’

  He was gloating. So I put the issue to him fair and square. I explained that I meant both of us, unless he wanted the DAA to be stuck with this problem.

  As Humphrey clearly had no idea at all how to force the PM’s hand, I told him how it’s done. If you have to go for a politician’s jugular, go for his constituency.

  I told Bernard to get me a map and the local municipal directory of the PM’s constituency.

  Humphrey was looking puzzled. He couldn’t see what I was proposing to do. But I had to put it to him in acceptably euphemistic language. ‘Humphrey,’ I said, ‘I need your advice. Is it possible that implementing a national transport policy could have unfortunate local repercussions? Necessary, of course, in the wider national interest but painful to the borough affected!’

  He caught on at once. ‘Ah. Yes indeed, Minister,’ he replied. ‘Inevitable, in fact.’ And he brightened up considerably.

  ‘And if the affected borough was represented in the House by a senior member of the government — a very senior member of the government — the most senior member of the government…?’

  Humphrey nodded gravely. ‘Embarrassing,’ he murmured. ‘Deeply embarrasing.’ But his eyes were gleaming.

  In due course Bernard obtained the street map of the PM’s constituency, and a street directory, and he found a relevant section in the business guide too. Once we studied the map, it was all plain sailing!

  First we found a park. Humphrey noticed that it was near the railway station, and reminded me that one requirement of a national transport policy is to bring bus stations nearer to railway stations.

  So, with deep regret, I made my first recommendation: Build a bus station on Queen Charlotte’s Park. Someone has to suffer in the national interest, alas!

  Second, we found a reference to a big bus repair shop, in the street directory. It seemed to us that it would be more economical to integrate bus and train repairs. There would undoubtedly be a great saving. So our second recommendation was Close the bus repair shop.

  Then it struck me that the PM’s constituency is in commuter country. And we know, of course, that commuter trains run at a loss. They are only really used at rush hours. This means that commuters are, in effect, subsidised.

  ‘Is this fair?’ I asked Humphrey. He agreed that this was indeed an injustice to non-commuters. So we made our third recommendation: Commuters to pay full economic fares.

  Sadly this will double the price of commuter tickets, but you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs.[53]

  Humphrey noted that the PM’s constituency contained several railway stations — British Rail as well as the Underground. He reminded me that some people take the view that areas with reasonable rail services don’t need an evening bus service as well. I regard this as an extremely persuasive view. Accordingly, we made our fourth recommendation. Stop all bus services after 6.30 p.m.

  We then moved on to consider what to do with all the remaining land after the removal of the bus station into the park.

  We had to rack our brains on this matter for a while, but eventually we realised that the whole area seemed very short of parking space for container lorries. Especially at night. So fifth we recommended: Container lorry park on bus station site.

  Regretfully, on closer study, the map revealed that building a new container lorry park would mean widening the access road. Indeed, it appears that the western half of the swimming baths might have to be filled in. But we could see no alternative: Widen the access road to the bus station site was our sixth and last recommendation.

  We sat back and considered our list of recommendations. These had nothing whatever to do with the PM personally, of course. They were simply the local consequences of the broad national strategy.

  However, I decided to write a paper which would be sent to Number Ten for the PM’s personal attention. The PM would undoubtedly wish to be informed of the constituency implications and as a loyal Minister and dutiful colleague I owe this to the PM. Among other things!

  Humphrey raised one other area of concern. ‘It would be awful, Minister, if the press got hold of all this. After all, lots of other boroughs are likely to be affected. There’d be a national outcry.’

  I asked if he thought there was any danger of the press getting hold of the story.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘they’re very clever at getting hold of things like this. Especially if there’s lots of copies.’

  A good point. Humphrey’s a bloody nuisance most of the time, but I must say that he’s a good man to have on your side in a fight.

  ‘Oh dear,’ I replied. ‘This is a problem, because I’ll have to copy all my Cabinet colleagues with this note. Their constituencies are bound to be affected as well, of course.’

  Humphrey reassured me on this point. He said that we must hope for the best. If it were leaked, with all those copies, no one could ever discover who leaked it. And as it happened, he was lunching today with Peter Martell of The Times.

  I found this very reassuring.

  I told him not to do anything that I wouldn’t do. He told me that I could rely on him.

  I’m sure I can.

  I wonder how he got on.

  [Sir Humphrey’s account of lunch with Peter Martell has been found in his private diary — Ed.]

  Lunched with the chap from Printing House Square, and mentioned the recent rumours of the integrated national transport policy.

  His first reaction was one of boredom with this hoary old chestnut. Quite a natural reaction, really. But he became interested when I hinted of the rumours that the policy may have several unwelcome side-effects.

  Job loss from integration of the railway terminals.

  Job loss from joint repair shops.

  Job loss from streamlining of services.

  Reduction of bus and train services — causing job loss.

  Peter realised that this could be rather a large story, especially in view of the rumours that one of the areas to suffer most will be the PM’s own constituency. I can’t imagine how these rumours got around.

  He asked for hard facts, and I admonished him. He persisted, explaining to me that newspapers are not like the Government — if they make statements they have to be able to prove that they are true.

  He pressed me for news of a White Paper or a Green Paper. I gave no help. But I did have to confirm that there is in existence a confidential note from Hacker to the PM with similar notes to all twenty-one of his Cabinet colleagues.

  ‘Oh that’s all right then,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Are you going to show it to me or shall I get it from one of your colleagues?’

  I reproved him. I explained that it was a confidential document. It would be grossly improper to betray it to anyone, let alone a journalist.

  The only way he could possibly obtain a copy of such a document would be if somebody left it lying around by mistake. The chances of that happening are remote, of course.

  [It seems, from Sir Humphrey’s account, that he even wrote his private diary in such a way as to prevent
it being used as evidence against him. But Peter Martell’s subsequent publication of the full details of the confidential note, only one day later, suggests that Sir Humphrey had carelessly left his own copy lying around — Ed.]

  August 22nd

  Humphrey did his job well. The full disclosure of my seven-point plan for the Prime Minister’s constituency appeared in The Times on Saturday. I must say I had a jolly good laugh about it. By 10.30 a.m. I’d received the expected summons for a chat with Sir Mark Spencer at Number Ten. (The PM’s still abroad.)

  I went this morning, and M.S. came straight to the point.

  ‘I thought I ought to tell you that the PM isn’t very pleased.’ He waved Saturday’s Times at me. ‘This story.’

  I agreed with him heartily. ‘Yes, absolutely shocking. I wasn’t pleased either.’

  ‘There’s obviously been a leak,’ he murmured, eyeing me.

  ‘Terrible. Can’t trust any of my Cabinet colleagues nowadays.’

  This wholehearted agreement threw him momentarily off guard, I think. ‘Who are you saying it was?’ he asked.

  I lowered my voice and explained that I wouldn’t want to name names, but as for one or two of my Cabinet colleagues… well! I left it at that. Looks speak louder than words sometimes.

  He didn’t want to leave it there. ‘But what are you suggesting?’

  I immediately backtracked. I was enjoying myself hugely. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘it may not have been one of them, of course. I did send the paper here to Number Ten — could there be a leak here somewhere, do you think?’

  Sir M. was not amused. ‘The PM’s office does not leak.’

  ‘Of course not,’ I said quickly. ‘Perish the thought.’

  We all leak of course. That’s what the lobby correspondents are there for. However, we all prefer to call it ‘flying a kite.’

  Sir Mark continued. ‘It wasn’t only the fact of the leak that was disturbing. It was the implications of the proposals.’

  I agreed that the implications were indeed disturbing, which was why I had written a special paper for the PM. National transport policies are bound to have disturbing implications. He disagreed. He insisted that the Transport Policy will not have such implications.

  ‘It will,’ I said.

  ‘It won’t,’ he said. Such is the intellectual cut and thrust to be found at the centre of government.

  ‘Didn’t you read what it said?’ I asked.

  ‘What it said is not what it will be,’ he replied very firmly. ‘I thought perhaps you’d like to see this.’ And he handed me a newspaper, one of the London suburban weeklies.

  It was the local paper from the PM’s constituency.

  This was certainly news to me.

  ‘I’ve had no directive from the PM,’ I said.

  ‘You have now.’ What a curious way to get a directive from the PM. ‘I’m afraid this leak, whoever it comes from, is a verbatim report of a confidential minute dictated by the Prime Minister in Ottawa. So it looks as though the national transport policy will need some rethinking, doesn’t it?’

  This leak was a skilful counter-move by the PM. I started to explain to Sir Mark that rethinking the policy would be difficult, but he interrupted me unceremoniously.

  ‘I think the PM’s view is that Ministers are there to do difficult jobs. Assuming that they wish to remain as Ministers.’

  Tough talk. I got the message.

  I hastened to assure him that if the policy needed rethinking then I would rethink it until it was well and truly rethought.

  Before I left I asked him how the leak had got into the paper. The PM’s own local paper. He assured me that he had no idea, but that the PM’s office does not leak.

  ‘Shocking, though, isn’t it?’ he added. ‘You can’t trust anyone nowadays.’

  August 23rd

  Another meeting with Humphrey. We appeared to be back to square one.

  I was somewhat downcast, as I still appeared to be landed with this ghastly job. To my surprise Humphrey was in good spirits.

  ‘It’s all going excellently, Minister,’ he explained. ‘We shall now produce the other kind of non-proposal.’

  I asked him what he had in mind.

  ‘The high-cost high-staff kind of proposal. We now suggest a British National Transport Authority, with a full structure of Regional Boards, Area Councils, local offices, liaison committees — the lot. Eighty thousand staff, and a billion pounds a year budget.’

  ‘The Treasury will have a fit,’ I said.

  ‘Precisely. And the whole matter will certainly be handed back to the Department of Transport.’

  I was entranced. I asked him to do me a paper with full staff and costing details and a specimen annual budget.

  He was way ahead of me. He immediately produced the very document from his folder. ‘And there’s a one-page summary on the front,’ he smiled smugly. Well, he was entitled to be smug!

  I told him he was wonderful. He told me it was nothing.

  I sat back and glanced through the proposal. It was splendid stuff.

  ‘My goodness,’ I reflected, ‘if the press were to get hold of this… eh?’

  Humphrey smiled. ‘They’ll soon be setting up another leak enquiry.’

  Bernard was immediately anxious. ‘Not really?’

  ‘Bound to.’

  ‘But… wouldn’t that be embarrassing?’

  I was surprised to see that Bernard didn’t know the rules of the leak enquiry game. Leak enquiries are never embarrassing because they never actually happen. Leak enquiries are for setting up, not for actually conducting. Members may be appointed, but they hardly ever meet more than once. They certainly never report.

  I asked Bernard, ‘How many leak enquiries can you recall that named the culprit?’

  ‘In round figures,’ added Humphrey.

  Bernard thought for a moment. ‘Well, if you want it in round figures…’ He thought again. ‘None.’

  The right answer. They can’t report. For two reasons:

  If the leak came from a civil servant it’s not fair to publish it. The politicians are supposed to take the rap, that’s what they’re there for.

  If the leak came from a politician it’s not safe to publish it, because he will then promptly disclose all the other leaks he knows of that came from his Cabinet colleagues.

  I explained all this to Bernard.

  Then Humphrey chimed in. ‘There’s a third reason. The most important of all. The main reason why it’s too dangerous to publish the results of an enquiry is because most leaks come from Number Ten. The ship of state is the only ship that leaks from the top.’

  Humphrey was quite right, of course. Since the problem, more often than not, is a leaky PM — as in this case — it’s not easy to get the evidence and impossible to publish it if you do.

  And by a curious coincidence, a journalist arrived to see me this very morning, shortly after our meeting. Humphrey, most considerately, left a spare copy of our latest high-cost proposal lying around on my desk. I’m awfully absent-minded, I’m always leaving bits of paper lying around, forgetting where I put them — the upshot was that after the journalist had left my office I couldn’t find my spare copy anywhere. Extraordinary!

  August 25th

  It all came to a head today.

  Humphrey and I were summoned — together this time — to a meeting at Number Ten. We were ushered into the Cabinet Secretary’s office, where Sir Arnold and Sir Mark sat at the far end of a very long room. I think they were trying to intimidate us. But Humphrey and I are made of sterner stuff.

  We greeted them cheerfully, and I sat in one of the armchairs in the conversation area. As a Minister of the Crown they were all my servants (nominally, at least) so they could not insist on a desk-bound interview. At my suggestion they joined me in Sir Arnold’s armchairs. But he opened the batting. ‘Another leak,’ he said. ‘This is extremely serious.’

  ‘There has indeed been another leak,’ I agreed. ‘
I can’t think how it occurred! Our high-cost proposal was all over this morning’s papers.’

  Humphrey and I agreed earnestly that this new leak was indeed extremely serious.

  ‘It is almost approaching a disciplinary level,’ said Sir Arnold.

  ‘I do agree,’ I said, ‘don’t you, Humphrey?’

  He nodded emphatically. ‘Indeed, if only one could find the culprits it would be a most serious matter for them.’

  Sir Mark piped up. He said he could help with that. He thought that if he were to use his influence he could achieve a disclosure from The Times of how they got hold of our original transport plans.

  I shook Humphrey up a bit by offering to help further.

  ‘Are you sure, Minister?’ He sounded a warning note.

  ‘Oh yes,’ I said. ‘In fact I’m confident that I could find out how the press got hold of the leak about the Prime Minister’s opposition to our original plans. Of course, if it transpires that the PM’s own office leaks, then that would be even more serious than a leak in a cabinet minister’s private office, wouldn’t it? The security implications alone…’

  I let that threat hang in the air, and sat back.

  ‘Ah,’ said Sir Mark.

  There was a pause while everyone thought and rethought their positions. I felt I had the initiative, so I continued: ‘In fact, perhaps we ought to bring in the police or MI5 — after all, the implications of a leak at Number Ten are really very serious indeed.’

  Arnold fought back. ‘Nevertheless, our first priority must be to investigate the original leak.’ He tried to insist.