by Chris Mullin
I asked about top-up fees, saying that they would get us into big trouble with the middle classes. The Man agreed but said that something had to be done. ‘A lecturer at a top university was earning less than a solicitor’s clerk in the City. This is one of those things that you won’t notice if you do nothing for five years, but you will in 15 or 20 years.’ He added we were starting to slip down the world league. Universities such as Bangalore in southern India were now as good as any in the First World.
Monday, 4 November
To London clutching letters addressed to the 93 heroic Labour backbenchers who voted for my amendment last week, asking for their support in the annual election for the parliamentary committee. By no means all my natural constituents, but I hope to pick up enough to make up for any losses I have incurred as a result of my little mishap the other day. I have never before lifted a finger to campaign, but one can’t be too lofty in these difficult times.
To Buckingham Palace – one of the few Establishment citadels I have never previously penetrated – where the Queen laid on a reception for backbench MPs. I strolled in darkness through St James’s Park, showed my ticket (number 1300) to the policeman on the gate and crunched across the gravel forecourt glancing smugly at the tourists peering through the railings. Under the arch, across the courtyard and through the vast portico which leads up to the state apartments, where we were corralled by footmen into various drawing rooms (green, blue, red) to await Her Majesty’s pleasure. Eventually our drinks were confiscated and we were marshalled into line to shake hands with the Queen and the Duke. They received us in the yellow drawing room, under a portrait of Queen Alexandra (in Sunderland we have a bridge named after her). As we came into The Presence a flunkey called our names. She was wearing elbow-length black gloves. Afterwards we lingered for an hour in the Royal Picture Gallery while footmen plied us with drinks and canapés and various members of the Household moved among us. Kevan Jones recounted an exchange with Sir Robert Fellowes about the recent difficulty with Diana’s butler.
Sir Robert: ‘Has it damaged the Queen?’
‘Yes.’
‘What do ordinary people think?’
Kevan then proceeded to regale Sir Robert with his mother’s analysis of the situation whereupon the unflappable courtier assumed a pained expression and melted into the crowd.
Twice I came across Prince Philip. First, we had a conversation about our proposed new sitting hours and then about satellite television (‘What’s wrong with satellite TV, apart from the fact that it is owned by Mr Murdoch?’). I didn’t catch sight of the Queen until chucking out time. She waved an arm. ‘Time for you to go and vote the right way,’ she said, adding hastily, ‘whichever way that is.’ (It was the vote on allowing unmarried couples and gays to adopt – no prizes for guessing which lobby she’d be in.) Then she strode away down the length of the picture gallery, which was by now almost empty, a vision in blue, stouter than I had imagined, swinging her handbag and flanked by two elegant young men. As she reached the end, the huge mirror-doors swung open and she disappeared into that part of the palace beyond the reach of ordinary mortals.
Tuesday, 5 November
The Tories are imploding. Instead of (as we did) allowing a free vote on whether to allow gays and unmarried people to adopt, IDS foolishly turned it into a vote of confidence in his leadership with the result that a number of people – including Clarke and Portillo – defied their whip, prompting a crisis. This morning IDS compounded his folly by summoning a press conference at which he demanded, to general derision, that the party either unite or die. Ken Clarke replied contemptuously that he wasn’t going to take lectures in loyalty from someone who built his career undermining John Major’s administration. It is wonderful to behold. Tories are gathered in the corridors and lobbies in earnest little groups which go quiet whenever someone from another party approaches. Clarke and Portillo, who are usually nowhere to be seen, are suddenly everywhere. One can’t turn a corner without bumping into one or the other. Meanwhile the Tories have practically abandoned the chamber. This evening, on the Immigration and Asylum Bill their front bench spokesman, Humfrey Malins, was alone for much of the time. There wasn’t even a Tory whip in sight, let alone a backbencher. I have never seen anything like it. We keep telling ourselves that it won’t last. They will recover one day and in my heart I still believe that, but one does begin to wonder.
Wednesday, 6 November
Raked up leaves in the garden for an hour before going in to hear the result of the election to the parliamentary committee. To my pleasant surprise there was a large swing in my favour – I moved up from fifth to second place. Andrew Mackinlay was the only casualty, replaced by Bridget Prentice.
At the committee, I again pressed The Man on top-up fees and he again repeated that there was a problem that had to be addressed – ‘The alternative is genteel decline.’
On Iraq, The Man said he was reasonably optimistic that war could be avoided. ‘I spoke to George Bush earlier today and he was down the line. If Saddam Hussein opens up to the inspectors there will be no war.’
We briefly discussed the Queen’s Speech. There is to be an antisocial behaviour Bill dealing with, among other things, air weapons, graffiti, car dumping. The Man said, ‘Reform of public services and crime and anti-social behaviour have to be buttoned down before the election.’
Friday, 8 November
Sunderland
The half-yearly returns on our ethically sound investments are tumbling. Disaster. The entire proceeds of my two years in government have been wiped out. The market nose-dived the moment our money came into contact with it. Dreams of retirement to a walled garden in Northumberland are fading by the week. At this rate I shall have to work until I’m 70.
Tuesday, 12 November
The firefighters began a two-day strike this evening. Next week there will be an eight-day one. This is going to be a long, bitter dispute.
Whatever happens we must not give in. A fudge will only lead to years of nonsense from every part of the public sector. Last night’s Echo contained a hint of things to come unless we nip this in the bud. Under the headline ‘Ambulance staff’s pay fury grows’ was a story which began, ‘An ambulance strike is looming in the North East as pressure mounts to match the firefighters’ wage claim …’ Before we know where we are every little Unison Trotskyite will be on the march. Fortunately, the firefighters have played into our hands by digging in behind a demand so outrageous that it can’t possibly be conceded.
Wednesday, 13 November
To the Parliamentary Labour Party’s office above St Stephen’s Entrance for a little party organised by the staff to mark the State Opening. From the windows there were grandstand views of the comings and goings below. The third carriage behind the Queen’s contained Messrs Tommy McAvoy and Keith Hill, resplendent in morning coats and top hats. As it passed beneath our window Keith leaned out and gave us a cheery wave. Dave Triesman recounted an illuminating little exchange that he had recently with the editor of the Sunday Times, John Witherow. David had been complaining about that paper’s unrelentingly hostile coverage of the government and all its works. ‘It’s nothing personal,’ Witherow replied. ‘We treated the Tories the same way.’
‘What are your values?’ asked Dave. ‘What do you stand for?’
To which Witherow shamelessly replied, ‘The bottom line.’
Monday, 18 November
To the Foreign Office to see Mike O’Brien. Getting through reception is a tremendous palaver. ‘Which company are you from?’ asks a pleasant but vacant young woman behind the desk. I flash my MP’s pass. It rings no bells. ‘What’s that?’ I explain, but it is not sufficient. ‘You will need a pass. Please look at the camera.’ She taps into the computer in front of her and within seconds a sullen photo-pass emerges. ‘Who have you come to see?’
‘Mike O’Brien.’ She flicks through the internal directory, running her finger down the ‘O’ column. ‘We don’t have anyone of
that name.’
‘He’s a minister.’
She is unimpressed. ‘Well, he doesn’t seem to be here …’ She consults the young woman sitting next to her, who helpfully points out that O’Brien is spelled with an ‘e’. ‘Ah …’ She rings a number. It is engaged. ‘Please take a seat …’
Eventually I am shown up to Mike’s grand apartment in what was once the India Office. An oval room where Lord Curzon himself is reputed to have held sway. Two identical doorways open inward from the corridor, designed so that two maharajas might be received simultaneously without one having to give way to the other.
This meeting arises from my exchange with The Man three weeks ago, about compensation for innocent Afghani victims of American bombing. The official line, Mike explains, is that the Americans don’t compensate for collateral damage. Unofficially, they might put some aid the way of villages that were accidentally bombed – ‘but you can’t say that’. Shameful, I say. But that’s how it is, says Mike. He is friendly, but matter of fact. I draw his attention to the article in the Guardian about the woman who lost her husband and six of her eleven children and who is still living in the ruins of her home. ‘Surely, we can do something for her?’ Mike replies he is having lunch with the minister at the American embassy tomorrow. He will raise the matter and report back.
This evening, in the Tea Room, I mentioned to Alan Milburn my interest in returning to government – but only in a serious job. Alan seemed delighted. ‘I thought you’d lost interest,’ he said. He is seeing The Man tomorrow and promised to mention the matter.
Wednesday, 20 November
To the weekly meeting of the parliamentary party to hear Jack Straw on Iraq. He took us through the UN resolution. ‘So far, so good,’ he said. ‘There are many opportunities for a peaceful outcome.’ He went on, ‘We have set the bar high. If military action is required, we will be asking our sons and daughters to put their lives on the line and we’re not going to do that for trivial reasons. If we do, we deserve to be driven out of office. I can guarantee that any action we take will be justified in international law.’ What he could not guarantee, however, was a further UN resolution before resorting to war. ‘A second resolution is not required, but the UN does have to meet and there has to be an assessment.’
How confident was he, asked Des Turner, that the US will accept a report from the inspectors that Iraq has complied?
‘At what point would we say to the Americans that we can’t support them?’ inquired Tony Lloyd.
Paul Flynn asked, ‘Is following the Bush agenda going to make another Bali massacre more or less likely?’
‘We are not Bush’s poodles,’ Jack protested indignantly, ‘and anyone who had been listening in on the endless telephone calls with Bush, Powell and Condoleezza Rice would know that. We are working hard to keep the US onside. You shouldn’t take the more extreme statements coming out of Washington as holy writ.’ He became quite passionate: ‘If Blix says, “We’ve found this and we’ve dealt with it” or that there is no problem, what possible reasoned argument [for war] would I have if I came before you …?’
‘It’s not you, it’s the Americans,’ interjected Alice Mahon.
‘The Americans know what the score is.’ He sat down to warm applause. Everyone knows Jack is walking a tightrope and he did it brilliantly. He was by turns humorous, passionate, robust. A far cry
from his early days in the job when he was long-winded and diffident.
Dinner with Charlie Falconer in the Barry Room in the Lords. The ostensible purpose was to discuss the Crime Bill, but we talked mostly of the Birmingham and Guildford cases. Charlie said that in 1987, shortly before the Birmingham Six appeal, he came across Igor Judge* brandishing a copy of my book. ‘Do you know of this man?’
‘Yes,’ said Charlie.
‘He’s a communist engaged in an assault on the criminal justice system.’
‘But supposing he is right?’ asked Charlie. To which there was no clear answer.
Charlie also confirmed what I had heard from other sources, that the trial judge, Lord Bridge, is still going around saying that the Birmingham Six were guilty, which only goes to show that it is possible to be very clever and stupid at the same time.
Mike O’Brien reported, during tonight’s division, that the Americans are prepared to consider compensating the woman who lost half her family to one of their bombs. I said I would be checking, to which he replied, ‘I told them you would.’
Thursday, 21 November
To the Liaison Committee, where there was an amusing discussion of a suggestion from David Curry that members of select committees be allowed to use laptops and other electronic aids during committee hearings. Gerald Kaufman, Gwyneth Dunwoody and several of the other veterans were resolutely opposed. Gerald said, ‘I was going to be agnostic until I heard someone say that we must move with the times.’ There was a vote on whether to allow David’s committee to experiment. I hesitated and then put up my hand in favour on the grounds that we couldn’t stop others from experimenting, but laptops will never be allowed into the Home Affairs Committee as long as I’m in charge. Gerald snorted and walked out.
Monday, 25 November
To the House to hear The Man respond to an urgent question about the firefighters’ strike. He has been away at the NATO summit in Prague and in his absence things have drifted. But no more. He set out the position with beautiful clarity: any wage increase over 4 per cent must be paid for by the proceeds of modernisation and, in case there was any doubt, he listed the issues that need addressing. From our side there were only a couple of dissenters. From the Tories came a large dose of shameless opportunism, but they were knocked firmly into their box. The Man is back. Long live The Man.
Tuesday, 26 November
The firefighters’ strike has taken a turn for the worse. For some inexplicable reason (presumably it was his way of demonstrating that he was still in charge after The Man’s bravura performance yesterday) JP made a statement to the House implying that modernisation of the service might cost 10,000 jobs and suddenly confusion reigns where, yesterday there was clarity. Overnight the dispute has been transformed from a fight about an outrageous pay demand into one about jobs. Exactly the territory we don’t want to fight on.
Wednesday, 27 November
To the weekly meeting of the parliamentary party to hear David Blunkett speak of what he called ‘my struggle’ to convince the liberati of this country that, unless people feel secure, then all the progressive politics in the world come to nothing. On asylum he said that, despite our best efforts, this year’s figures were 20 per cent higher than last, ‘We are at breaking point.’ He spoke of ‘administrative chaos’ in some parts of the Immigration and Nationality Directorate. On the judges he said, ‘It is proving difficult to bring them from the medieval to the Tudor.’
Gordon made his pre-Budget statement, bullish and upbeat as ever, but behind the barrage of bluster there is no disguising that we are in
trouble. Savings and investment are falling, trade deficit mushrooming, stock market sinking with all that that implies for pensions. Last year’s growth predictions proved wildly over-optimistic. Kevin Hughes said, ‘Gordon’s speeches always sound alright until you unpack the case and come across the smelly socks hidden between the clean shirts.’
At the parliamentary committee, a long discussion about the fire strike. Tony Lloyd kicked off, saying he had seen the draft agreement from last week and it was difficult to see what was wrong with it.
The Man begged to differ: ‘It contained no guarantees; the government was going to have to pay the difference and the firefighters’ idea of modernisation is more men and machines.’ He went on, ‘We are at a critical stage. We either make the mistake that every previous Labour government has made or we avoid it. If the union walk away with a victory, we’ve had it. It would be the end.’ He added that the firefighters would never have dared take such a stand against a Tory government. ‘I feel quite aggrieved
about that.’
Gordon Prentice said it had been a terrible blunder to say that modernisation could cost 10,000 jobs. Bridget Prentice added that there was a perception that the dispute had changed from being about pay to jobs. The Man defended JP, who he said had been the victim of a tawdry spin operation by the firefighters’ union.
Helen Jackson said that we were letting local government off the hook. In South Yorkshire until recently the same man had been in charge of the Fire Authority for 30 years and he wasn’t even capable of modernising his own kitchen let alone the fire service.
I said, ‘We have to win and be seen to win, otherwise we’ll have years of this nonsense. We need to be looking for a deal that will take us past the next election, maybe even a no-strike deal – that would be worth paying a few bob for.’ We were fighting on too many fronts, I added. ‘We need to close one down. My candidate would be top-up fees.’ At the mention of top-up fees The Man assumed a pained expression and shook his head. As he was leaving, however, he paused at the door and called over to me, ‘I’ve heard what you say about not fighting on too many fronts.’
Friday, 29 November
Sunderland
To the graduation lunch at the university where the Chancellor, David Puttnam, bent my ear briefly about the iniquity of top-up fees. The Man, says David, seems to be hooked on them, although they have no support from anyone beyond the vice-chancellors of a handful of top universities. According to David, Estelle Morris was opposed (and that may have been one of the factors that led to her departure). Margaret Hodge is a problem. ‘I have always regarded her as the cuckoo in the nest.’ On the Broadcasting Bill, which comes up for a second reading on Tuesday, he said he had recently managed to wring a couple of concessions out of Number 10, but there was still nothing in the Bill to prevent ITV being sold to the Americans even though no foreign media corporation could buy up an American one. David said he could get no sense out of anyone in Number 10 on the subject and could only assume that it was the product of a fireside chat between the Two Most Important People on the Planet.