The Complete Yes Minister

The man from Road Transport, Graham something or other, suggested that it should be government policy to designate road haulage as its own principal means of freight transport. He was promptly interrupted by Richard somebody with a rather irritable thin tired-looking creased face – not surprising when you consider he’s been trying to modernise the railways and battle with BR, the NUR and ASLEF for most of his career.

‘With the greatest possible respect, Minister, I think that such a policy would be, not to put too fine a point on it, unacceptably short-sighted. It is rail transport that must surely be the favoured carrier under any sane national policy.’

Piers, a smooth fellow from Air, interrupted so fast that he scarcely gave himself time to utter his usual courteous but meaningless preamble. ‘If-I-might-crave-your-indulgence-for-a-moment-Minister, I have to say that both those proposals are formulae for disaster. Long-term considerations absolutely mandate the expansion of air freight to meet rising demand.’

Graham (Roads) put down his pencil, with a sharp click as it hit my mahogany reproduction conference table. ‘Of course,’ he snapped, ‘if the Minister is prepared for a massive budget increase . . .’

‘If the Minister will accept a long and unbelievably bitter rail strike . . .’ interrupted Richard (Rail).

And Piers butted in: ‘If the public can tolerate a massive rise in public discontent . . .’

I interrupted them by holding up my hand. They then confined themselves to staring at each other with intense mutual hostility.

‘Hold on, hold on,’ I said. ‘We’re the government, aren’t we?’

‘Indeed you are, Minister,’ Sir Humphrey corrected me.

‘So,’ I continued, searching for agreement, ‘we’re all on the same side, aren’t we?’

‘Indeed we are/quite so/absolutely no question,’ replied Richard, Piers and Graham roughly in concert.

‘And,’ I went on patiently, ‘we are trying to find out what’s best for Britain.’

Piers put up his hand. I nodded at him. ‘Through the chair,’ he said, ‘I hardly think the end of the national air freight business is best for Britain?’

Our truce had lasted a mere twenty seconds. The war was on again. ‘I find it hard to see how Britain is saved by the destruction of the railways,’ Richard remarked bitterly.

And Graham, not to be outdone, added with heavy sarcasm that it was not immediately apparent to him how Britain would benefit from a rapid deterioration of the road network.

Again I took a lead. I explained that I was merely trying to examine a few policy options for the government’s own freight transport needs. And that therefore I had thought that a preliminary chat with a few friends, advisers, around the table, could lead to some positive, constructive suggestions.

I should not have wasted my breath. The positive constructive suggestions were somewhat predictable. Richard promptly suggested a firm commitment to rail transport, Graham a significant investment in motorway construction, and Piers a meaningful expansion of air freight capacity!

So at this point I explained that my overall brief is, among other things, to achieve an overall cut in expenditure.

‘In that case,’ said Richard grimly, ‘there is only one possible course.’

‘Indeed there is,’ snapped Graham.

‘And there can be no doubt what it is,’ Piers added in an icy tone.

They all eyed each other, and me. I was stuck. Sir Humphrey came to the rescue.

‘Good,’ he said with a cheerful smile, ‘I always like to end a meeting on a note of agreement. Thank you, gentlemen.’

And they filed out.

The meeting is the sort that would be described in a communiqué as ‘frank’. Or even ‘frank, bordering on direct’, which means that the cleaners have to mop up the blood in the morning.

SIR BERNARD WOOLLEY RECALLS:⁴

The Minister found his meeting with the three Under-Secretaries confusing. This was because of his failure to understand the role of the Civil Service in making policy.

The three Under-Secretaries whom we met that morning were, in effect, counsel briefed by the various transport interests to resist any aspects of government policy that might have been unfavourable to their clients.

This is how the Civil Service in the 1980s actually worked in practice. In fact, all government departments – which in theory collectively represented the government to the outside world – in fact lobbied the government on behalf of their own client pressure group. In other words, each Department of State was actually controlled by the people whom it was supposed to be controlling.

Why – for instance – had we got comprehensive education throughout the UK? Who wanted it? The pupils? The parents? Not particularly.

The actual pressure came from the National Union of Teachers, who were the chief client of the DES.⁵ So the DES went comprehensive.