The Complete Yes Minister

Now they have salaries comparable to executives in the most successful private enterprise companies (guess who’s in charge of the comparability studies), inflation-proof pensions, chauffeur-driven cars – and they still get automatic honours.

[Hacker was right. The civil servants were undoubtedly manipulating the honours system to their own advantage. Just as incomes policies have always been manipulated by those that control them: for instance, the 1975 Pay Policy provided exemptions for Civil Service increments and lawyers’ fees. Needless to say, the policy was drafted by civil servants and parliamentary draftsmen, i.e. lawyers.

The problem is, quis custodiet ipsos custodes?³ – Ed.]

So how can civil servants possibly understand the way the rest of us live, if they are immune to the basic threats to economic well-being faced by the rest of us: inflation and unemployment?

And how did the civil servants get away with creating these remarkably favourable terms of service for themselves? Simply by keeping a low profile. They have somehow managed to make people feel that discussing the matter at all is in rather poor taste.

But that cuts no ice with me. I believe in action now!

I asked Humphrey how he accounted for twenty per cent of honours going to the Civil Service.

‘A fitting tribute to their devotion to duty,’ he said.

It’s a pretty nice duty to be devoted to, I thought.

Humphrey continued: ‘Her Majesty’s civil servants spend their lives working for a modest wage and at the end they retire into obscurity. Honours are a small recompense for a lifetime of loyal, self-effacing discretion and devoted service to Her Majesty and to the nation.’

A pretty speech. But quite ridiculous. ‘A modest wage?’ I queried.

‘Alas, yes.’

I explained to Humphrey, since he appeared to have forgotten, that he earned well over thirty thousand a year. Seven and a half thousand more than me.

He agreed, but insisted that it was still a relatively modest wage.

‘Relative to whom?’ I asked.

He was stuck for a moment. ‘Well . . . Elizabeth Taylor for instance,’ he suggested.

I felt obliged to explain to Sir Humphrey that he was in no way relative to Elizabeth Taylor. There are important differences.

‘Indeed,’ he agreed. ‘She did not get a First in Greats.’⁴

Then, undaunted and ever persistent, he again asked me if I had approved the list. I made my move.

‘No Humphrey,’ I replied pleasantly, ‘I am not approving any honour for anyone in this Department who hasn’t earned it.’

Humphrey’s face was a wonderful study in blankness.

‘What do you mean, earned it?’

I explained that I meant earned it. In other words, having done something to deserve it.

The penny dropped. He exploded. ‘But that’s unheard of,’ he exclaimed.

I smiled serenely. ‘Maybe so. But my new policy is to stop all honours for all civil servants who fail to cut their department’s budgets by five per cent a year.’

Humphrey was speechless.

So after a few moments I said: ‘May I take it that your silence indicates approval?’

He found his voice fast. ‘You may not, Minister.’ He was deeply indignant. ‘Where did you get this preposterous idea?’

I glanced at Bernard, who studied his right shoe-lace intently. ‘It came to me,’ I said.

Humphrey was spluttering incoherently. ‘It’s ridiculous. It’s out of the question. It’s unthinkable.’ Now that Humphrey had found his voice there was no stopping him. ‘The whole idea . . . strikes at the whole root of . . . this is the beginning of the end . . . the thin end of the wedge . . . Bennite solution. [Perhaps it was the word ‘wedge’ that reminded him of Benn – Ed.] Where will it end? The abolition of the monarchy?’

I told him not to be silly. This infuriated him even more.

‘There is no reason,’ he said, stabbing the air with his finger, ‘to change a system which has worked well in the past.’

‘But it hasn’t,’ I said.

‘We have to give the present system a fair trial,’ he stated. This seemed quite reasonable on the face of it. But I reminded him that the Most Noble Order of the Garter was founded in 1348 by King Edward III. ‘Surely it must be getting towards the end of its trial period?’ I said.

So Humphrey tried a new tack. He said that to block honours pending economies might create a dangerous precedent.