The Complete Yes Minister

‘Very well. We shall appoint a woman. Sarah Harrison.’

Again he was astounded, or aghast, or appalled. Something like that. Definitely not pleased, anyway. But he contented himself with merely repeating her name, in a quiet controlled voice.

‘Sarah Harrison?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I think she’s very able. Don’t you?’

‘Very able, for a woman. For a person.’ He had corrected himself with scarcely a hesitation.

‘And,’ I added, ‘she has ideas. She’s an original thinker.’

‘I’m afraid that’s true,’ agreed Sir Humphrey, ‘but she doesn’t let it interfere with her work.’

So I asked him what he had against her. He insisted that he had nothing against her, that he was totally pro her. He confirmed that she is an excellent worker, and he pointed out that he is a great supporter of hers and had in fact advocated her promotion to Under-Secretary only last year at a very early age.

‘Would you say she is an outstanding Under-Secretary?’ I asked him.

‘Yes,’ he replied, without equivocation.

‘So,’ I said, ‘on balance it’s a good idea, isn’t it?’

‘On balance? Yes . . . and no.’

I told him that that was not a clear answer. He said it was a balanced answer. Touché. Then he went on to explain that the point is, in his opinion, that she’s too young and it’s not her turn yet.

I leaped upon that argument. I’d been expecting it. ‘That is precisely what’s wrong with the Civil Service – Buggins’ Turn! Whereas the best people should be promoted, as soon as possible.’

‘Exactly,’ agreed Sir Humphrey, ‘as soon as it’s their turn.’

‘Rubbish. Napoleon ruled Europe in his thirties. Alexander the Great conquered the world in his twenties.’

‘They would have made very poor Deputy Secretaries,’ remarked Sir Humphrey contemptuously.

‘At least they didn’t wait their turn,’ I pointed out.

‘And look what happened to them.’ Sir Humphrey clearly thought he’d won our little debate. So I decided to make the argument rather more personal.

‘Look what’s happened to us,’ I said calmly. ‘Instead of this country being run by bright energetic youthful brains it is being run by tired routine-bound fifty-five-year-olds who just want a quiet life.’

Humphrey stared at me coldly. ‘Had you anyone specific in mind, Minister?’

I smiled. ‘Yes . . . and no, Humphrey.’ Game, set and match to yours truly, I felt.

Sir Humphrey decided to move the debate back to the specific problem. He informed me, in his most matter-of-fact fashion, that Sarah Harrison is an excellent civil servant and a bright hope for the future. But he also reiterated that she is our most junior Under-Secretary and that he cannot and will not recommend her for promotion.

There was a clear implication in that final comment that it was ultimately up to him, and that I should mind my own business.

I told him he was a sexist.

I’m surprised he didn’t laugh at me. Surprisingly, this trendy insult seemed to cut him to the quick. He was outraged.

‘Minister,’ he complained bitterly, ‘how can you say such a thing? I’m very pro-women. Wonderful people, women. And Sarah Harrison is a dear lady. I’m one of her most ardent admirers. But the fact is that if the cause of women is to be advanced it must be done with tact and care and discretion. She is our only woman contender for a top job. We mustn’t push her too fast. Women find top jobs very difficult, you know.’

He is a sexist.

‘Can you hear yourself?’ I asked incredulously.

Unabashed, he continued in the same vein. ‘If women were able to be good Permanent Secretaries, there would be more of them, wouldn’t there? Stands to reason.’

I’ve never before heard a reply that so totally begs the question.

‘No Humphrey!’ I began, wondering where to begin.

But on he went. ‘I’m no anti-feminist. I love women. Some of my best friends are women. My wife, indeed.’ Methinks Sir Humphrey doth protest too much. And on and on he went. ‘Sarah Harrison is not very experienced, Minister, and her two children are still of school age, they might get mumps.’

Another daft argument. Anybody can be temporarily off work through their own ill-health, not just their children’s. ‘You might get shingles, Humphrey, if it comes to that,’ I said.

He missed my point. ‘I might indeed, Minister, if you continue in this vein,’ he muttered balefully. ‘But what if her children caused her to miss work all the time?’

I asked him frankly if this were likely. I asked if she were likely to have reached the rank of Under-Secretary if her children kept having mumps. I pointed out that she was the best person for the job.

He didn’t disagree about that. But he gave me an indignant warning: ‘Minister, if you go around promoting women just because they’re the best person for the job, you could create a lot of resentment throughout the whole Civil Service.’

‘But not from the women in it,’ I pointed out.

‘Ah,’ said Sir Humphrey complacently, ‘but there are so few of them that it wouldn’t matter so much.’

A completely circular argument. Perhaps this is what is meant by moving in Civil Service circles.