Decline & Fall

by Chris Mullin

  Saturday, 27 February

  A magnificent piece by Roy Hattersley, in response to the Rawnsley book, in the current New Statesman. ‘There is no correlation between equitable temperament and statesmanship. Nor is the ability to run the country related to any of the other superficial virtues that are now regarded as essential to political success. That claim is not made in defence of the Prime Minister. It is a declaration of support for a higher view of politics than the fashionable notion that what matters in a party leader is a winning smile, the ability to counterfeit interest in pop music and a willingness to weep in public. Judged against these criteria, neither William Gladstone nor Clement Attlee would have risen above the rank of parliamentary secretary.’

  He goes on, ‘It may be naive to believe that, in an age of reality television, politics should still provide something more noble than the parliamentary equivalent of mud-wrestling. But unless politicians return to the conflict of ideas, democracy itself will be devalued, and the Andrew Rawnsleys of this world will make their money by suggesting that election should be decided by which party leader the voters would most like to see evicted from the Westminster edition of I’m a celebrity . . . Get me out of here.’

  He concludes with a plea for ‘a return to the politics of ideas’. It pains me to say so, since Hattersley has excoriated everything I have ever done, but we could do with a few more politicians of his weight in the upper reaches.

  Monday, 1 March

  Lunch in the cafeteria with Keith Hill. I put it to him that, were we to awake on 7 May and find that Gordon were still prime minister, even we, Labour loyalists as we are, would feel a certain gloom. He did not disagree. As Keith once remarked, Gordon’s style of government is joyless.

  One other little snippet: after years of prevarication and obfuscation, Lord Ashcroft, the Tories’ mega-donor, has been outed as a Non-Dom.

  Tuesday, 2 March

  On an upper corridor, I came across the former Sun editor David Yelland. ‘Are you Chris Mullin?’ he inquired.

  I reluctantly conceded that I might be.

  He said, ‘When I read your book about the Birmingham bombings I went to Kelvin Mackenzie and said, “We should be campaigning on this”, but he told me to f-off.’ A bad move on Kelvin’s part since the case eventually cost the Sun more than a million in libel damages. But I would have missed out on all those wonderful Sun headlines that now adorn the wall of my study: ‘LOONY MP BACKS BOMB GANG’, ‘Mr ODIOUS’ etc.

  Wednesday, 3 March

  Much excitement re Ashcroft. Harriet, who stood in for Gordon at PMQs, bashed Hague all around the chamber on the subject, provoking much bawling and shouting from our side. Not a very edifying spectacle, but where Ashcroft is concerned the Tories are vulnerable; after all, he is probably the largest donor in British political history.

  Thursday, 4 March

  Lunch with Sir Peter Jennings, a former Serjeant at Arms, in the magnificent, if somewhat fading, ducal mansion on Charles Street, Mayfair, that nowadays houses the English Speaking Union. Then back to the House, where we chalked up a small victory for the forces of enlightenment and progress by voting more or less nem con to elect select committee members by secret ballot, hopefully putting an end to the present ludicrous situation where the executive decides to whom it shall account. The proposed Business Committee also went through, though it is a pale shadow of what is needed – even so there was a last-minute conspiracy by the two front benches to water it down still further which was easily seen off. Despite repeated assurances that the votes were free, one or two of the whips could be seen offering last-minute guidance to payroll voters. I witnessed an amusing exchange with Ed Balls, who having voted with the reformers was ordered by a whip into the opposite lobby to cancel his vote, only to hastily evacuate when Martin Salter warned him that, if he persisted, he risked ridicule in tomorrow’s newspapers. None of this will make a huge difference, but after months of wrangling we have succeeded in inflicting a fleabite on the body politic. Afterwards, Mark Fisher, Evan Harris, David Howarth, Martin Salter and I repaired to the Pugin Room, where our leader, the esteemed Tony Wright, bought us tea and scones by way of celebration.

  The media are awash with tributes to Michael Foot, who has died, aged 96.

  Sunday, 7 March

  Sunderland

  State of emergency re Bruce, again, who has been gone for two days. I worry that she may not survive the freezing nights.

  Monday, 8 March

  As I was departing for London this morning, a faint, barely audible miaow, but from where? I searched our garden and that of our neighbours, to no avail, before realising that the sound appeared to emanate from the derelict basement next door. I duly alerted Ngoc and raced for the train. Half an hour later, Ngoc reported that she had managed to effect entry and there was Bruce, none the worse for her ordeal.

  House of Commons

  This evening’s meeting of the parliamentary party was given over to tributes to Michael Foot. Gordon Brown and Neil Kinnock led the way. Kinnock, in turn irreverent, moving, hilarious, was rewarded with a well-deserved standing ovation.

  After the ten o’clock division, the Tory Chief Whip, Patrick McLoughlin, invited me to his office for a glass of wine. Patrick is an unusual Tory. The son of a Derbyshire miner, he worked six years in the pits before being elected in 1986. Working-class Tories are usually the most rabid, but Patrick is the opposite: decent, straight, personable. Like just about everyone I meet, he wants to know why I am going and whether I might be reincarnated in the Lords and suggests a farewell dinner before I depart. I hope I am not going soft, but it is one of the great strengths of our democracy that one can be friends with one’s political opponents. After all, we are not actually trying to kill each other.

  Tuesday, 9 March

  Lunch with A Friend in High Places, who reports that Gordon’s behaviour is much improved of late and that the Rawnsley stories about incidents – some of which my friend has witnessed – while generally true, are exaggerated. She thinks that Sarah has been a huge influence for good. The Man still calls in occasionally, though there is some nervousness about his considerable commercial interests. Sir Ronald Cohen has taken over from Lord Levy as Israel’s principal lobbyist. ‘I can almost set my watch by the time that elapses between the Israeli Ambassador being informed that we intend to vote against them at the UN and a call from Ronnie Cohen demanding an urgent appointment.’

  My friend says among the problems that an incoming administration, of whichever party, needs to deal with are the constant short-termism that arises from having to pander to our 24-hour media, who must be fed three times a day, and the endless demands of the military top brass, who are becoming increasingly brazen and shameless in their lobbying and leaking. They need to be told to make choices, instead of demanding more of everything. Re the media, she says, we could make a start by banishing Sky and its rolling news bulletins from ministerial offices. True, now I come to think of it, Sky is on permanently, in every corner of government, even the Downing Street war room. A constant diet of so-called ‘breaking news’, much of it fatuous, read by self-important anchor persons, endlessly distracting, demanding instant responses. No wonder no one can concentrate for more than a sound bite. We need a much more arm’s-length approach. Number 10 should stop taking Lobby journalists to summits and leave the reporting, instead, to local correspondents, who are more likely to have an interest in the issues under discussion. Witness the mess that Lobby play-acting made of Gordon’s last two trips to the US.

  This evening, to the Empire, Leicester Square, for the UK premier of Paul Greengrass’s new film, The Green Zone.

  Wednesday, 10 March

  Twenty, maybe 30 days to go, before I turn into a pumpkin. A cruel reminder this afternoon. I rang the Serjeant at Arms’ office to check whether I might be allowed on the premises during the Dissolution, given that I am not standing again and the building remains open to the public.

  Answer: ‘You can only
have access to your room if you are escorted by a security officer.’

  ‘But I don’t want access to my room. Only to the public areas and the cafeteria.’

  ‘No Members or their staff will be allowed on the premises during the Dissolution.’

  ‘By that time I shall be an ordinary member of the public . . .’

  ‘I suppose you could come in if you bought a ticket for a tour . . .’

  Friday, 12 March

  Glasgow

  To the Mitchell Library for a panel discussion with Tariq Ali, Tristram Hunt and others about the future of the Left. An audience of 450, mostly of a certain age in search of some old-time religion. I am sure they found me deeply unimpressive. Only one light moment, when Ruth Wishart, who chaired the discussion, asked for a show of hands from those not intending to vote. Only one hand went up.

  ‘Can you tell us why, sir?’

  ‘Because I am Greek.’

  Saturday, 13 March

  Glasgow

  Breakfast with Tariq Ali. Charming, thoughtful, softly spoken, his Trotskyite past long behind him. He fears Obama may turn out to be a one-term president; that, re Afghanistan, defeat is inevitable and that the only way out is to talk to Russia, Iran and Pakistan and then withdraw with as much dignity as we can muster, taking Karzai with us. We discussed whether John Smith would have got us embroiled in Iraq – one of the great ‘what ifs’ of recent history. Tariq thought not. ‘He was a genuine social democrat, with an irreducible core of decency.’

  Tariq recalled a heated exchange with Michael Foot, at Oxford in 1965, when everyone was up in arms about Wilson’s refusal to condemn the Americans for what they were up to in Vietnam. ‘Someone shouted, “Bring him down.” I have never forgotten Michael’s reply. “What you don’t realise is that Harold Wilson is the most left-wing prime minister we will ever have.” He was right.’

  Two more events: an enjoyable discussion with Alan Clements about political fiction and a session on the diaries. Then a stroll down Sauchiehall Street to see the statue of Donald Dewar, a fairly good likeness, marred by being coloured sickly green. The centre of Glasgow, a mix of partially rejuvenated Georgian and Victorian elegance, interspersed with 1960s brutalism. The city has undergone something of a renaissance during the last decade but, as with Sunderland, one has an impression of fragility. A few years of Tory government and it could soon unravel.

  Monday, 15 March

  House of Commons

  Arrived to be greeted by the shocking news that Ashok Kumar, my neighbour on Upper Corridor South, is dead, aged 53. He was right as rain when I saw him last Thursday.

  This evening, at a thinly attended meeting of the parliamentary party, Jim Sheridan demanded to know why ministers were interfering in the strike by BA cabin crew – both Andrew Adonis and Gordon denounced the strikers over the weekend. ‘How have we got ourselves into this situation?’ asked Ken Purchase, pointing out that there had been two ballots, the last of which came out 80 per cent in favour of strike action. ‘We should either be keeping shtum or back the workers.’

  Harriet Harman responded that keeping quiet wasn’t an option, but she did not attempt to defend the intemperate tone of the weekend’s pronouncements.

  Wednesday, 17 March

  A historic moment. At PMQs today Gordon admitted a mistake. An event for which there is no precedent. For months he has been insisting, contrary to assertions by the military, that spending on defence increased in real terms every year since we were elected. Today, he conceded that that wasn’t quite the case and that in four of our 13 years defence spending had indeed decreased in real terms. In truth, none of this detracts from his general point that the military, despite their constant complaints, have not done badly on our watch, but it does put us on the back foot.

  Meanwhile the Tories are doing their utmost to embroil us in the strike by BA cabin crews, making much of the fact that Unite, the strikers’ union, is Labour’s biggest donor. Posters have appeared depicting a rear view of Gordon, his hands stuffed with union money – vengeance for the trouble we have caused them re Ashcroft. To complicate matters Gordon’s former henchperson, Charlie Whelan, the source of many previous embarrassments, has resurfaced, as political officer of Unite. Cameron made much of it at today’s Questions – and by most reckoning came out on top.

  This evening to Westminster Hall, to hear the Parliament choir sing Mozart’s Requiem.

  Thursday, 18 March

  To the Oxford and Cambridge Club in Pall Mall to deliver yet another book talk. Gradually, courtesy of the diaries, I am working my way along Pall Mall, up St James’s and into Mayfair – via the Institute of Directors, the Athenaeum, the Carlton Club, Whites, the D Group and the English Speaking Union. Among those present, Sir Brian Cubbon, a former permanent secretary at the Home Office. Who, I inquired, was the most impressive minister he had served? Without hesitation, he nominated Willie Whitelaw as both the most effective and the most affable. Also present, a mysterious man with an unusually thick crop of combed-back grey hair and a permatan that suggested that he spent much of the year in sunnier climes, who, upon inquiry, disclosed that he once worked for MI5, but declined to elaborate.

  Friday, 19 March

  To Stockton to speak for Dari Taylor. About 125 people turned out for dinner at a local hotel. Several had been at Ashok Kumar’s memorial this afternoon and reported that the church was packed with crowds ten-deep lining the pavement outside, which suggests that we politicians are not quite as despised as popular myth would have it. Or at least that the public are capable of distinguishing between the good, the bad and the indifferent – and Ashok was very definitely one of the good guys.

  Saturday, 20 March

  As I type this, a huge cheer from the direction of the Stadium of Light, more than a mile away. Ten minutes later Ngoc reports that our benighted football team have just beaten Birmingham 3–1, thereby lifting us clear of the relegation zone. Ha’way the lads!

  Sunday, 21 March

  Big new sleaze crisis brewing. The evening bulletins contain clips of interviews secretly recorded for Channel Four’s Dispatches programme with Steve Byers, Patricia Hewitt and Geoff Hoon offering to sell their services as lobbyists for fees of up to £5,000 a day. Steve is heard to say, ‘I’m like a sort of cab for hire.’ Lord save us.

  Monday, 22 March

  Byers, Hewitt and Hoon are all over this morning’s papers. All we need, just as the polls were narrowing. People are referring to this as the moment New Labour finally expired. This afternoon Harriet made a statement denying Steve’s claim – since retracted – that he had successfully leaned on the Transport Secretary on behalf of one of the private railway companies – and she promised a register of lobbyists. The Tories are cock-a-hoop. Outrage at this evening’s meeting of the parliamentary party, coupled with demands that heads should roll. Chief Whip Nick Brown attempted in vain to hold the line, saying that he would decide what action to take after consulting the parliamentary committee on Wednesday, but two hours later he issued a statement saying that he had withdrawn the whip from all three of the miscreants. I later came across Geoff Hoon at a party in Speaker’s House, as jovial and buoyant as ever. A man not easily embarrassed.

  Tuesday, 23 March

  Paddy Ashdown was on the bus. He predicts a Tory majority of ten, leading perhaps to a realignment of the Left, of which he and The Man once dreamed.

  Wednesday, 24 March

  The Budget. Alistair at his most statesmanlike, making no secret of the rocky road ahead, but studious of ‘efficiency savings’. Some good news – the deficit is £11 billion less than previously expected, but still a whopping, unsustainable £167 billion. Some nice touches: a doubling of the stamp duty exemption for first-time buyers to be paid for by an increase in the duty on houses worth over a million, an increase in the tax threshold for those aged 75-plus and the announcement – to much cheering and waving of order papers on our side – of a disclosure agreement with three tax havens, one of
them Belize, the domicile of Tory deputy chairman Lord Ashcroft, whose tax arrangements continue to excite interest.

  Thursday, 25 March

  An email from David Banks to say that Daphne Park has died. ‘I sat with her for an hour and a half last week and we talked fondly of you.’

  Tonight I delivered my last speech in Parliament. The Speaker, who has been kind to me throughout, presided. Harriet Harman responded for the government. About 30 colleagues turned out, including a number of Tory grandees – Patrick Cormack, Malcolm Rifkind, Nicholas Soames, Nick Winterton and George Young. I spoke for 15 minutes from a carefully prepared text. A tour of the horizon, ending (voice trembling with emotion): ‘Mr Speaker, these are the last words I shall speak in this place.’ Afterwards Harriet embraced me and everyone came and shook hands. Robert Rogers, one of the senior clerks, said he would cut the speech out of tomorrow’s Hansard and keep it. A sad moment. I came within a whisker of breaking down.