The Complete Yes Minister

However, having despatched the self-righteously incorruptible Frank the day before yesterday on his arduous fact-finding mission to review important centres of government – California, Jamaica, and Tahiti – I already feel a load off my mind as one significant source of pressure on me is lifted. I felt free and easy for the first time in months, as if I had actually gained time yesterday.

I am now able to draw some conclusions about the Civil Service in general and Sir Humphrey in particular. I begin to see that senior civil servants in the open structure¹ have, surprisingly enough, almost as brilliant minds as they themselves would claim to have. However, since there are virtually no goals or targets that can be achieved by a civil servant personally, his high IQ is usually devoted to the avoidance of error.

Civil servants are posted to new jobs every three years or so. This is supposed to gain them all-round experience on the way to the top. In practice, it merely ensures that they can never have any personal interest in achieving the success of a policy: a policy of any complexity takes longer than three years to see through from start to finish, so a civil servant either has to leave it before its passage is completed or he arrives on the scene long after it started. This also means you can never pin the blame for failure on any individual: the man in charge at the end will say it was started wrong, and the man in charge at the beginning will say it was finished wrong.

Curiously the Civil Service seem to approve of this system. They don’t like civil servants to become emotionally involved in the success or failure of policies. Policies are for Ministers. Ministers or Governments stand or fall by them. Civil servants see themselves as public-spirited impartial advisers attempting to implement, with total impartiality, whatever policy the Minister or the Government see fit.

Except that they don’t, do they? There’s the rub.

Because Permanent Secretaries are always trying to steer Ministers of all parties towards ‘the common ground’. [In other words, the Department’s policy – a policy they have some hope of being able to pursue uninterrupted, whichever party is in power – Ed.]

Afterthought: considering that the avoidance of error is their main priority, it is surprising how many errors they make!

March 14th

Today, Sunday, has been spent going through my boxes and mugging up on my PQs [Parliamentary Questions – Ed.] for tomorrow.

I take PQs very seriously, as do all Ministers with any sense. Although the voters are mainly aware of a Minister’s activities through the newspapers and television, his real power and influence still stems from the House of Commons. A Minister cannot afford to make an idiot of himself in the House, and will not last long if he doesn’t learn to perform there adequately.

One day a month this ghastly event takes place. PQs are the modern equivalent of throwing the Christians to the lions, or the medieval ordeal by combat. One day a month I’m on First Order, and some other Minister from some other Department is on Second Order. Another day, vice versa. [There’s also Third Order but no one knows what it’s there for because it’s never been reached – Ed.]

The Sundays and Mondays before I’m on First Order are absolute bloody anguish. I should think they’re anguish for the civil servants too. Bernard has an Assistant Private Secretary employed full-time on getting answers together for all possible supplementaries. Legions of civil servants sit around Whitehall exercising their feverish imaginations, trying to foretell what possible supplementaries could be coming from the backbenchers. Usually, of course, I can guess the political implications of a PQ better than my civil servants.

Then, when the gruesome moment arrives you stand up in the House, which is usually packed as it’s just after lunch and PQs are considered good clean fun because there’s always a chance that a Minister will humiliate himself.

Still, I’m reasonably relaxed this evening, secure in the knowledge that, as always, I am thoroughly prepared for Question Time tomorrow. One thing I’m proud of is that, no matter how Sir Humphrey makes rings round me in administrative matters,² I have always prided myself on my masterful control over the House.

March 15th

I can hardly believe it. PQs today were a disaster! A totally unforeseen catastrophe. Although I did manage to snatch a sort of Pyrrhic victory from the jaws of defeat. I came in bright and early and went over all the possible supplementaries – I thought! – and spent lunchtime being tested by Bernard.