by Chris Mullin
Tuesday, 12 June
This evening, with others, a meeting with John Reid in the Prime Minister’s room at which he sought to persuade us of the need for yet more laws on terrorism, including a return of something strongly resembling the old, discredited ‘Sus’ laws and extension of detention without trial. Confidence was not inspired when, on entering, we were each handed a bit of paper recording the results of a Populus poll suggesting that the public favoured stronger measures by a margin of two to one. Is this the evidence base we are being asked to consider? I inquired where the pressure for an extension of detention was coming from, citing my exchange with the DPP in Birmingham last month. John replied that he took his advice from the police, not the DPP. According to Andrew Dismore, however, Met Commissioner Ian Blair says he is not looking for an extension either. Several people pointed out that it was Stop and Search that gave us the Brixton riots last time round. To be fair, John was fairly measured, promising to consult carefully and asserting that he had an open mind, adding that we faced an unprecedented threat from an enemy which had potentially unlimited capacity to inflict carnage and which acknowledged no limits.
The Man has made an interesting speech about ‘the feral media’ – something he’s obviously been wanting to get off his chest for a long time.
Thursday, 14 June
To Number 10 with Tobias Ellwood, a bright, 30-something Tory MP who has a plan for phasing out opium production in Afghanistan. Keith Hill convened the meeting with officials from the Foreign Office, International Development and Defence. We sat in the Pillared Drawing Room, the very room in which four years ago The Man outlined to select committee members his intention to invade Afghanistan. Tobias, a former army officer who has been to Afghanistan four times, outlined his plan. He has also been in Washington, where he claims it is being taken seriously. He was heard politely, but there was considerable scepticism. The practical obstacles are immense, not to mention the Americans, who are a law unto themselves. On the way back Tobias described how a friend of his, a major, had been invited to dine with American officers at their mess in Bagram airbase. A large screen had a live feed from a helicopter gunship spraying bullets at alleged Taliban and there were cheers every time someone was hit. As Tobias said, they appear to regard the war as a video game.
Saturday, 16 June
Today’s Telegraph carries an interview with Hilary Benn in which he is asked if he still believes it was right to invade Iraq, to which he replied with the same disingenuous formula that The Man uses, ‘I can’t look you in the eye and say that I regret Saddam Hussein is no longer there.’ Fair enough, given that he’s in government, but then two paragraphs further on he says piously, ‘If we’re not straightforward and direct, if we don’t tell it like it is, then we’re in danger of being overwhelmed by cynicism . . .’
Monday, 18 June
Sunderland
Emma is 12 today. Before departing for London I presented her with a hand-drawn card depicting a small person immersed in a book entitled ‘Harry Potter and The Tiny Nuisance’.
London
To the Cloisters to sign the remembrance books for The Man and JP. Some of the inscriptions are sickening in their sycophancy. Not wanting to appear hypocritical I kept my contribution short and to the point. To The Man I wrote: ‘A pleasure serving with you . . .’ Later it occurred to me that I should have added, ‘most of the time’. To JP merely ‘All Good Wishes’. Anything more would cause a thunderbolt to come from heaven.
Tuesday, 19 June
The Coming of Gordon is anxiously awaited. Rumour and speculation abound, but absolutely no hard information. His camp is hermetically sealed. No one has the slightest idea what he has in store for us, although it is taken as read that the slaughter will be great. As for me, I look on with only mild curiosity.
Meanwhile The Man remains immersed in a whirlwind of activity. Speeches, summits, farewell visits, interspersed with weekly visits to Parliament for Questions, at which he continues to excel. He neither looks nor sounds like a man on the brink of oblivion, yet eight days from now it will all be over.
Wednesday, 20 June
Dropped a note to the Speaker in the hope of being called at PMQs. I wanted to ask The Man, apropos his ‘feral’ media speech, if with the benefit of hindsight he regretted not taking on the press barons instead of trying to appease them. Needless to say I wasn’t called. So humiliating, all that bobbing up and down while the Speaker averts his gaze. What am I doing here?
To an upper committee room to listen to the Iraqi foreign minister, a plump, courteous man whose fluent English testifies to years of exile in London. He used words like ‘difficult’ and ‘challenging’ to describe the current situation, while asserting that in some provinces – and even in parts of Baghdad – something approaching normal life existed. Not a good idea, he said, for the US to talk to Iran and Syria, because those governments had a long agenda of which Iraq was only a small part. Instead they should let the Iraqis take the lead. ‘I asked the key Iranian leaders, “Do you really want the Americans and the British to leave?” and they said, “No”. They do not want disintegration.’
Then to the Groucho Club for a party to celebrate the launch of a Brook Lapping production entitled The Rise and Fall of Tony Blair. There I met a man who claimed to be a floating voter who predicted that Gordon would triumph over David Cameron because the public would eventually notice that Gordon was a heavyweight and Cameron was not. I record it because it is the first time I have heard a disinterested party predict that Gordon will triumph.
Thursday, 21 June
This morning, a bizarre report that Paddy Ashdown has been offered a place in Gordon’s government which he has duly declined. Yesterday it was reported that Gordon had met with Ming Campbell and offered the Lib Dems several places, which Ming, wisely, also declined. There are also reports that John Stevens, the former Metropolitan Police Commissioner, has been offered something. It seems extraordinarily cackhanded. Just why would it be in the Lib Dems’ interests to ally themselves to an unpopular Labour government? Why, for that matter, would it be in our interests, given that we have a majority of more than 60?
There are also reports that The Man may become George Bush’s Middle East envoy. Surely not. That would be true poodledom.
As I was departing, I ran into Geoff Hoon, who recounted the scene at this morning’s Cabinet, The Man’s last. Tributes all round, to which The Man responded gracefully, but without sentiment. ‘Some of my staff,’ he said, ‘think I have not yet adjusted to the fact that I am going. So if I wander in next week, please point me in the direction of the men in white coats.’
Friday, 22 June
To a local primary school to be photographed with a breakfast club. A bright, sunny place, full of happy little people. The head (a dynamic, attractive woman who says she has ‘the best job in the world’) gave me a tour. A growing proportion of the children were Bangladeshis with mothers who speak little or no English. I chatted to a young Bengali teaching assistant. ‘Are girls of 14 or 15 still disappearing from the secondary school up the road and sent off to be married in Bangladesh?’ I inquired.
‘It was a problem, but less so now.’
How come?
‘Because the government raised to 18 the age at which husbands or wives could be brought in.’
Yessssss.
Monday, 25 June
To London through a landscape sodden after days of torrential rain. It is said to be the wettest June on record.
This evening to a crowded meeting of the parliamentary party where we bade farewell to JP and The Man. Harriet Harman, our new deputy leader, was at the top table, positively glowing after her surprise victory on Sunday. Gordon, as ever, puffy and exhausted. The Man, by contrast, looking as though he were commencing rather than finishing a decade in office. JP’s speech a white knuckle ride, leading down all sorts of dangerous alleyways, carried along by a tide of goodwill. The Man, brief, dignified, generous and received
with rapture. Afterwards a presentation. A guitar for The Man, crystal decanters for JP. Another ovation. A historic moment – the most successful Labour leader in history taking his leave. No battery of cameras to bear witness. Just us, the foot soldiers whose loyalty has been tested to the limits. People snapped away with their mobile phones. No tears. Everyone, not least The Man himself, knows that it has to end. Just relief all round that the handover has gone so smoothly. It could so easily have been different.
Wednesday, 27 June
To the chamber for The Man’s final appearance. I found a seat on the cross benches in front of the special gallery on the Opposition side, which afforded a grandstand view. Cherie and three of the four children were upstairs in the west gallery. My first sighting of Leo since he was a baby, a lovely little chap who hadn’t a clue what was going on and kept having to be told to look at his dad. A brief flurry of excitement, waving of order papers on our side and boos from the other, when Tory defector Quentin Davies took his seat on the Labour benches. Otherwise a mainly subdued affair. All but a handful of ignoramuses avoided point scoring. Cameron asked about the floods, mercifully without seeking to pretend it was all the government’s fault. Some nice moments. Nick Winterton, huffing and puffing about Europe, brought down to earth when The Man wished him farewell in three European languages. A foolish Lib Dem with wild hair asked a convoluted question about disestablishing the Church of England. The Man just looked at him, smiled, shrugged and said, ‘I don’t think I can be bothered with that’, and promptly sat down to laughter. ‘Bowlers outshone by batsman,’ whispered the Lib Dem aristocrat sitting next to me.
Then the finale. Alan Williams, father of the House, read out a dignified little tribute to which The Man responded gracefully. And that was that. The end. The final curtain. He sat down and our side rose as one. Before we knew it the ovation had spread to the public galleries. On the Opposition side Sylvia Hermon was first up, then the Lib Dems began to rise, the Tories briefly floundered, Cameron was quick to catch on and was soon on his feet, gesturing to reluctant backbenchers to follow, which, with varying degrees of reluctance, they duly did, leaving only a handful of surly Scots Nats in their seats. Then he was gone, pausing only to shake hands with the Speaker, the applause continuing as he disappeared down the corridor and into history. Several people, Margaret Beckett for one, were wiping tears from their eyes as we filed out. I kept thinking of that leaked memo at which we all sniggered last September: ‘He must leave with the crowds still wanting more.’ At the time, given the low point we were at, it seemed impossible, ludicrous, fatuous . . . but it’s happened. He’s done it. For once the New Labour machine delivered.
Two hours later, having been anointed at the Palace, Gordon was in Downing Street, waving awkwardly in response to the demands of the media legions, prattling about the need for change. The clear implication being that he is repudiating everything that has gone before, even though he shares responsibility for much of it. He still doesn’t look happy (what does it take to make Gordon happy?) and it still takes a second or two for a smile to travel from his brain to his lips.
Thursday, 28 June
All day word of Gordon’s Cabinet has been filtering through. My interest being purely academic, I made no effort to discover the details, just picking up bits and pieces from people in corridors. Even by nightfall, I had not seen a full list. Alistair Darling is Chancellor, a safe pair of hands if ever there was one. David Miliband is the new Foreign Secretary, which strikes me as unwise. To be sure he’s bright and personable, but he’s never been left anywhere long enough to achieve anything of substance. Jacqui Smith, the new Home Secretary, has always struck me as a lightweight, but then I know little or nothing of her; as Chief Whip she’s been practically invisible. There is a great deal of change for the sake of change. People who were doing perfectly good jobs have been either dropped or reshuffled. The carnage is unprecedented – Des Browne is the only member of the outgoing Cabinet who remains in the same seat and even he has had responsibility for Scotland tacked on almost as an afterthought (no doubt the Nats will have something to say about that). Youth is (almost) everything. Jack Straw (Justice – surely he was hoping for something better?) is the only Cabinet minister on the wrong side of 60; several of the new boys and girls are in their thirties and have only been in Parliament for five minutes. The caravan has well and truly moved on.
Andrew Lloyd (Africa Director at the Foreign Office), who I ran into at Westminster tube station, reports that Dave Triesman is out, lasting just two months longer than I did. His replacement – our eighth Africa minister in ten years – is Mark Malloch-Brown, who is having to be inducted both into the Lords and the Labour Party in order to qualify. Still, at least he knows about abroad, which makes him better qualified than most.
Friday, 29 June
‘Are you sure you want to carry on?’ Ngoc asked at breakfast this morning. Until now we have always assumed that I have no choice but to serve another term if I want to see the children through university. It’s true, I don’t want to continue. To be sure there are days which are enjoyable, but they are rarely fulfilling. I mustn’t kid myself that I am doing anything very useful beyond acting as a glorified social worker. As far as the big picture is concerned, I am entirely irrelevant. If I’m not careful I shall end my days as a Tea Room bore, regaling anyone prepared to listen with tales of triumphs past. For the first time, the balance has tipped in favour of retirement.
The full extent of Gordon’s ever-expanding big tent is gradually becoming apparent. Malloch-Brown, John Stevens . . . This evening there was a hilarious interview on the PM programme with Digby Jones, the former CBI Director General, who is going to be something at the newly christened Department for Enterprise. He has generously agreed to take the Labour whip in the Lords, but balked at party membership. His previous trenchant criticisms of government were read back to him one by one and he did not resile from any of them. He was repeatedly asked if he intended to vote Labour, but declined even to commit to that . . . Should we laugh or cry?
Monday, 2 July
Jacqui Smith, our new Home Secretary, made a statement about the attempted bombings at the weekend. Everyone, including David Davis for the Tories, sang her praises, so much so that at times one might have imagined she had been called upon to dismantle the bombs herself whereas, so far as I can see, all she did was call for vigilance, praise the emergency services and chair a meeting of COBRA. Gordon, surrounded by his new Cabinet, addressed the parliamentary party. He thanked everybody copiously and, as ever, talked a lot about listening. The questions were mainly about affordable housing, where we have a big crisis brewing. Karen Buck said the housing shortage in London was driving racial tension.
Tuesday, 3 July
Gordon made a statement to the House outlining a huge programme of constitutional reform, including strengthening Parliament by giving select committees power to veto certain public appointments. He also talked of handing to Parliament responsibility for the Security and Intelligence Committee, something I’ve been pressing for years without getting anywhere. To judge by the unenthusiastic response from the chairman, Paul Murphy, the strongest resistance will come not from the agencies, but from the MPs already on the committee, the anointed.
To Admiralty House for JP’s farewell do, compered by Gus O’Donnell, the Cabinet Secretary. Gordon, too, put in an appearance, accompanied by one of the Special Branch men who came with me to Somaliland. The place was crammed with officials and former ministers, many of whom had hair-raising tales to tell about the perils of working with JP. Oddly, however, they all seem to retain a sneaking regard for him.
Later, during a division, Bob Ainsworth regaled me with the tale of the fifth target that mysteriously appeared in the drugs White Paper. Bob, who used to be in charge of drugs policy at the Home Office, had devised four targets, only to discover that a fifth one – to halve poppy cultivation in Afghanistan – had appeared from nowhere over the weekend. ‘Where t
he hell’s this come from?’ he asked his bemused officials. The answer, of course, was Number 10. Another spectacularly unenforceable New Labour wheeze dreamed up on the hoof. Opium production in Afghanistan is now at record levels.
Wednesday, 4 July
To the chamber for Gordon’s first PMQs. Adequate, but lacklustre. Not the great clunking fist that we had been led to expect. The problem is that having spent ten years in a post over which he had total mastery, he can now be asked about absolutely anything and this will take some getting used to. At one point he was reduced to pleading that he had only been in the job five days (seven, actually). Not that it mattered very much, the occasion being overshadowed by events elsewhere. A lobby journalist remarked, ‘The word upstairs is that to everyone’s surprise Gordon could not have had a better start. A terrorist incident in which no one was killed . . .’
Tuesday, 10 July
To the Labour HQ in Victoria Street for a spot of by-election telephone canvassing. There was only one other person, a keen youth, and we were heavily outnumbered by a bunch of master strategists sitting about chatting. We were presented with a fatuous script which I ignored in favour of simply asking how people intended to vote, but I could hear the keen youth going through every tedious detail. I doubt whether he had spoken to half a dozen people in the hour that I was there. Responses were surprisingly friendly (but then this was Sedge-field) until I noticed that I was being asked to contact people whose views had been ascertained as recently as yesterday. I drew this to the attention of the sharp-suited young master strategist who appeared to be in charge and who I doubt had ever knocked on a door in his life, and he confirmed that this was indeed the case. At which point I gave up and went off to hear William Hague lecturing on William Wilberforce. As Hague pointed out, Wilberforce had rejected offers of office, preferring instead to devote himself to his anti-slavery campaign, with the result that 200 years on he was still remembered with respect, while most of his contemporaries were forgotten. ‘By not seeking power, he achieved much more than those who did.’ Amen.