Decline & Fall

by Chris Mullin

  Monday, 30 November

  To London, past swollen rivers and flooded fields after 30 hours of wind and rain.

  M, hotfoot from Washington, called in. He’s been at the Iraq inquiry and pronounced it a rare example of greater openness in the UK than in the US. There has been nothing similar in the US so far, in keeping with Obama’s policy of not raking over the past. Obama, he says, is doing well considering his awful inheritance and the general paralysis in Congress. Re Iran he is keeping a low profile, in order not to inflame the situation. Re Afghanistan, he’s proving very thoughtful. Re Pakistan, M says the US is much more heavily involved than is generally admitted. The drones which have been used against targets in the tribal areas are based in Pakistani military bases and US special forces, probably about 750 in number, are operating inside Pakistan. M added that he had recently spent an hour and a half with the Pakistani president, Zadari, and found him deeply unimpressive.

  Tuesday, 1 December

  The main headline in today’s Daily Mail: ‘WHY DOES LABOUR HATE MARRIAGE?’

  To much hilarity the Lib Dems have performed a U-turn on their so-called ‘mansion tax’. They were proposing to impose a levy on all houses worth £1 million and over; today they announced it will be restricted to houses valued at £2.5 million and over – i.e. those in Tory-controlled Notting Hill, Kensington and Chelsea as opposed to Richmond, Twickenham and Kingston upon Thames, which are, of course, Lib Dem strongholds. It couldn’t be more blatant. They look complete ninnies.

  Wednesday, 2 December

  After months of cogitating, Obama announced an extra 30,000 troops for Afghanistan, bringing the US contingent up to 100,000. We are sending another 500. There is also talk of a phased withdrawal beginning in 2011, increased pressure on Karzai to clean up his government and lots more Afghan troops who will eventually take over, but no one is very optimistic. The trouble is that we’ve seen this film before. A liberal president inherits a war in a faraway country, the generals demanding extra troops for one more heave. On the radio yesterday, an archive clip of Lyndon Johnson announcing a big build-up in Vietnam. This is not Vietnam, of course, but there are uncomfortable echoes. The trouble is, no one can think of a credible alternative.

  Gordon on excellent form at Questions today. Razor-sharp sound bites – ‘Tory tax policy dreamed up on the playing fields of Eton’, ‘the more the Right Hon. gentleman talks the less he says’ and one lovely line, ‘The voice is that of a modern PR man, but the mind-set is that of the 1930s’. We went away greatly cheered, though how this plays outside is anybody’s guess, but, as Keith Hill remarked at lunch, the dividing lines are becoming clear: cuts versus steady as we go on the economy; toffs versus commoners; plus of course the EU.

  Monday, 7 December

  A curious paragraph in today’s Times reporting that the notorious photograph of the Bullingdon Club, featuring Boris Johnson, David Cameron and assorted other Tory toffs has mysteriously been suppressed. ‘For commercial reasons,’ according to the owners of the copyright. Which I interpret as meaning that someone has paid a large sum for it to be taken out of circulation until after the election. I guess the spinmeisters have noticed that it is incompatible with the image of the new, merciful, compassionate Conservative Party that is alleged to have arisen from the ashes of the lean, mean and greedy one.

  At this evening’s meeting of the parliamentary party, a long, whingy discussion about the Kelly and Legg inquiries. Much resentment at the fact that Legg has simply ignored many of the representations made to him and is proposing to publish a list of offenders which will lead to another round of media hysteria. The demoralisation is palpable. Try as he might, chairman Tony Lloyd just couldn’t close down the discussion. Eventually some light relief in the form of the Transport Secretary, Andrew Adonis. One of that almost extinct species – a happy minister. Fizzing with energy and ideas, in contrast to the tired, demoralised complainers who can talk of naught but allowances.

  Later, an exchange with a Tory barrister re The Man, who I hotly defended against the charge that he lied over WMD. This prompted the following response: ‘He always had a flexible concept of truth and principle. He was well known for it at the Bar.’

  Tuesday, 8 December

  An exchange with Nick Soames, just back from a lightning visit to Bombay. ‘The Indians have got us by the throat.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘One day they’ll overtake us. They work like hell, believe in education and they’re not chippy. Absolutely no resentment.’ His evidence for this last proposition was as follows: ‘As I was being conveyed through the streets in a Rolls-Royce bigger than the Queen’s, with gold-tinted windows, no one gave me the V sign. But they were all trying to see inside.’ I bet.

  Wednesday, 9 December

  Alistair Darling delivered his pre-Budget report. A bit of banker bashing, an increase in National Insurance, VAT back up to 17.5 per cent, much talk of ‘protecting front-line services’. Surprisingly tame, considering the direness of our plight. Re the deficit (a whopping £178 billion), containment rather than reduction is the strategy. It will not go down next year, but he did talk vaguely of halving it in the four years thereafter. The economy, he predicts, will return to growth (after shrinking by 4.7 per cent in the last 12 months). The great unanswered question and one we would prefer not to discuss until the election is out of the way is, of course, how we are going to extricate ourselves from the vast swamp of debt into which we have been sucked by the avarice and stupidity of the bankers. Our excuse for not taking immediate action is that we don’t want to jeopardise the fragile recovery.

  George Osborne was talking Armageddon. Demanding ‘tough decisions’, invoking the name of Roy Jenkins (who in 1970 balanced the books and lost us the election). For all his bombast, one suspects that George, too, is none too keen to go into detail this side of an election as to precisely how the Tories would tackle the deficit. The electorate would run a mile, if only they knew.

  Only Vince Cable affected to remain above the fray, pouring scorn in equal measure on both our houses while at the same time leaving us none the wiser as to what he would do either.

  This evening, to Number 10 with Julie Elliot, hopefully my successor, and a local businesswoman. A brief, good-humoured exchange with Peter Mandelson and then we all lined up to have our photograph taken with Gordon, who chatted amiably with Julie and her guest without addressing a single word or even a glance in my direction.

  Thursday, 10 December

  This morning’s headlines: ‘Middle classes hit hard’ (Telegraph), ‘The axeman dithereth’ (The Times), ‘Labour’s war on workers’ (Express), ‘The Buck Passers’ Budget – Darling vows to hammer the middle classes’ (Daily Mail) and the Sun, with characteristic vulgarity, ‘Darling just screwed more people than Tiger Woods’. Alistair is simultaneously assailed, sometimes on different pages of the same newspaper, for being (a) too tough and (b) too timid. No hope of a rational discussion in this climate.

  Lunch with Grey Gowrie, who told the following tale. In the late seventies, when Margaret Thatcher was within sight of office, Denis without consulting her went out and bought a Rolls-Royce. Margaret, sensing an imminent PR disaster, ordered him to get rid of it, sharpish. Now I come to think of it, in Trafalgar Square one evening in about 1978, I recall seeing Denis drive by at the wheel of a Rolls-Royce with Margaret sitting in the passenger seat and thinking, ‘Odd that no one knows their family car is a Roller.’

  Monday, 14 December

  Alistair Darling addressed the parliamentary party. His speech was gently laced with references to unspecified ‘difficulties’, but nothing too upsetting. One has to listen carefully to detect any hint of the immensity of the task ahead, but there were clues: ‘If you are worried that we are reducing the debt too quickly, I wouldn’t be.’ Some useful progress to report on tax evasion: Liechtenstein has so far yielded about £1 billion and Alistair has other tax havens in his sights.

  Wednesday, 16 December


  This evening, a drink in the Pugin Room with a former Special Branch man of my acquaintance who was once part of the team protecting Gordon. He said that, despite the tantrums, workaholism and the difficulty he had relating, Gordon is a decent man.

  Thursday, 17 December

  To the BBC to record a ‘review of the year’ with Michael Howard and Matthew Taylor. Afterwards Michael remarked that John Major’s great achievement had been to hold the Tory party together at a time when it was in danger of splitting. ‘You can’t have a Europhile leading the Tory party. If Heseltine had become leader, we would have split.’

  In Copenhagen the talks on climate change are deadlocked. It’s being billed as the last chance to save the planet. Dire warnings of floods, famine and pestilence unless we change our ways, but will we? Can we?

  Friday, 18 December

  Sunderland

  A stinking cold which, as usual, has gone to my chest, Arctic winds, streets coated in a thin film of snow and ice. I spent an hour and half tramping the streets, inspecting the efforts of a local regeneration agency to upgrade the poorer parts of Hendon by means of selective demolition, buying out some of the worst landlords and face-lifting entire streets of crumbling Victorian houses with garden walls, railings and new facades. Came away much cheered. Who says Labour governments don’t make a difference?

  The climate change summit is still deadlocked. Today’s Guardian claims to have discovered a secret UN report saying that whatever is agreed won’t be enough and that half the earth’s species will be extinct and hundreds of millions displaced by flood and famine by 2050 – well within the lifetime of my children.

  Saturday, 19 December

  Sunderland

  The Copenhagen Summit has broken up in disarray, with an agreement only to ‘note’ a series of desirable objectives rather than to actually do anything. Could this be the decisive moment? The moment when the world decided to let nature take its course, rather than face up to the difficult choices that have to be made if calamity is to be avoided. Agreement or no agreement, maybe it is already too late and forces are already at work which no amount of summitry can ever reverse.

  Sunday, 20 December

  To the Wildfowl Park at Washington for Christmas lunch as guests of Pam and Roger Wortley. Outside the snow lay deep and crisp and even. The lane leading back to the main road was iced over and it took about ten goes, plus a push from Pam, Roger and a couple of helpful staff members to get the car up the slope.

  The Great Freeze is playing havoc with public transport. The Eurostar trains are up the creek (no less than five having got stuck in the Channel Tunnel) and the bulletins are full of desperate travellers marooned at Paddington, Gare du Nord and the airports.

  Monday, 21 December

  Sunderland

  To Pennywell for a meeting with Gordon Langley, manager of the youth project, which is in financial difficulties. I had been expecting to see just him but he had assembled most of the management committee to underline the seriousness of the situation. A familiar problem. No shortage of money for new initiatives, but little or nothing is for core funding. The New Labour obsession with innovation afflicts much of the voluntary sector. Tried and tested, well-established projects are dying on their feet while endless sums are lavished on bright new wheezes that flash across the firmament and disappear quicker than you can say ‘tick that box’. I pointed out to Bev Hughes (the children’s minister) some time ago that it will end badly and now it seems the day of reckoning is close. Gordon is deeply demoralised. He has used up much of his reserves and is beginning to lay off staff. And this at a time when the number of unemployed, semi-literate youths is again on the rise. If we are not careful, we shall be back where we started 20 years ago.

  Tuesday, 22 December

  Half a dozen calls re Pennywell. A friendly council official, in charge of ‘Youth Provision’, assured me that all was for the best. I fired off a note, copied to all and sundry, in the hope of breaching the wall of complacency and was promised a reply in the New Year.

  The Great Freeze continues. Everyone coughing and spluttering. My chest is completely clogged. Ngoc spends much of the day with a blanket round her shoulders. Sarah has had a hacking cough since she came home and now it has spread to Emma. The back lane is so slippery that I have had to leave the car in the street at the front of the house for the last three nights.

  Friday, 25 December

  To the snowy wilderness above Haltwhistle for Christmas with the Todds. The roads were clear, but the track to Malcolm and Helen’s house was impassable so we had to park on the verge and transfer our baggage to Malcolm’s car, which had snow shoes on the front wheels. Ruth and Naomi have grown into self-confident and mature young women. Only yesterday, or so it seems, they were little girls playing happily together on our front lawn. And so it was again today as, for two short hours, they went sledging on the steep slope behind the house.

  Saturday, 26 December

  Birch Trees, Coanwood

  Malcolm and I walked five miles through a frozen, snow-covered landscape to the Lamley Viaduct and back. We watched as, far below in the valley, two deer raced in leaps and bounds across a field, their brown hides contrasting with the pristine whiteness.

  Tuesday, 29 December

  In today’s Daily Mail, between reports of ‘high street chaos’ (re the impending re-instatement of VAT at full rate) and lies about the number of people ‘threatened’ with death duties, the following gem: ‘Britain’s top prosecutor faced charges that he is a “socialist” yesterday after he flatly rejected Tory plans to give home-owners the right to kill burglars.’

  The mind boggles.

  Wednesday, 30 December

  The Lycee, Kennington

  I called on Uncle Peter, who is dying of liver cancer, in his little flat opposite Goodmayes Park. Drowsy, visibly fading, he was sitting in an armchair in the living room, a huge oxygen bottle on one side. A gentle, kind, other-worldly man, Peter is the last member of Mum’s immediate family. Somewhere, there is picture of them all taken around 1930, Grandpa and Grandma Foley, and their seven children: Eileen, Terence, Maureen, Brian, Cyril, Mum and Peter, a little cheeky chappie in short trousers. When Peter is gone, as he soon will be, there will be no one left from the large happy family that lived for over 100 years at 44 Ripley Road, Ilford.

  Thursday, 31 December

  This evening, with John and Sheila Williams, Emma and two young friends, to the terrace of the House of Commons (which Speaker Bercow had graciously decreed should for the first time be opened to Members and their guests on New Year’s Eve), from where we had a grandstand view of the fireworks. Afterwards, we made our way home over Lambeth Bridge, ankle-deep in discarded champagne bottles and other New Year detritus.

  CHAPTER SIX

  2010

  Friday, 1 January

  So begins the countdown to oblivion. My own and New Labour’s.

  A call from Claes Bratt, visiting his family in Gothenburg, as ever dreaming of retirement to a sunny, unpolluted clime. His freelance camera work for the American networks is gradually drying up, destroyed by the internet. ‘No one cares about quality any more. No one wants to pay for anything. There is a lack of ambition. Even the New York Times is laying off journalists.’ The only hope, says Claes, of saving serious journalism is that sooner or later someone will find a way to charge for access to internet news. ‘That’s the one thing about which I agree with Murdoch.’

  Emma and I packed up the car and sped north to Sunderland, the last 30 miles through a blizzard.

  Saturday, 2 January

  Awoke to hear John Major and Shirley Williams on the radio discussing how to restore trust in politics. Their remedies included increasing MPs’ pay (????!!!!), more power for select committees, backbenchers etc. No mention, though, of what to do about the tabloid virus (by no means confined to the tabloids) – the daily cocktail of misrepresentation, trivialisation and relentless cynicism – which is gnawing at t
he foundations of our democracy. In such a climate even a parliament composed entirely of Mother Teresas and Nelson Mandelas would have difficulty in inspiring trust.

  Sunday, 3 January

  Gordon appeared on this morning’s Andrew Marr Show, desperately trying to sound upbeat, refusing to contemplate the possibility of spending cuts or tax increases. A position which is wholly incredible. He looked tense and exhausted, which makes you wonder what he’s been doing over Christmas.

  Monday, 4 January

  A phoney war has broken out. Gordon and Ed Balls talk only of future spending plans (although there are rumours of a rift with Alistair and the Treasury over this approach). Even the Tories are at it, simultaneously lamenting the state of the public finances (which they shamelessly attribute entirely to Labour profligacy, without reference either to the global meltdown or to the part played by their friends in the City). At the same time they promise a freeze on council tax, tax breaks for married couples and all sorts of other expensive goodies. To cap it all, the Tories have launched a nationwide poster campaign featuring a large, airbrushed photo of David Cameron alongside the fatuous slogan: ‘I’ll cut the deficit, not the NHS.’ Both camps appear to have concluded, and they may be right, that no rational discussion of spending cuts or tax increases is possible this side of an election. Whether they can keep this up for five months remains to be seen.