The Complete Yes Minister

[The Private Office is the office immediately adjoining the Minister’s office. In it are the desks of the Private Secretary and the three or four assistant private secretaries, including the Diary Secretary — a full-time job. Adjoining the inner Private Office is the outer private office, containing about twelve people, all secretarial and clerking staff, processing replies to parliamentary questions, letters, etc.

Access to the Minister’s office is through the Private Office. Throughout the day everyone, whether outsiders or members of the Department, continually come and go through the Private Office.

The Private Office is, therefore, somewhat public — Ed.]

‘May I remind you, Minister, that you are seeing a deputation from the TUC in fifteen minutes, and from the CBI half an hour after that, and the NEB at 12 noon.’

My feeling of despair increased. ‘What do they all want — roughly?’ I asked.

‘They are all worried about the machinery for inflation, deflation and reflation,’ Bernard informed me. What do they think I am? A Minister of the Crown or a bicycle pump?

I indicated the in-tray. ‘When am I going to get through all this correspondence?’ I asked Bernard wearily.

Bernard said: ‘You do realise, Minister, that you don’t actually have to?’

I had realised no such thing. This sounded good.

Bernard continued: ‘If you want, we can simply draft an official reply to any letter.’

‘What’s an official reply?’ I wanted to know.

‘It just says,’ Bernard explained, ‘“the Minister has asked me to thank you for your letter.” Then we reply. Something like: “The matter is under consideration.” Or even, if we feel so inclined, “under active consideration!”’

‘What’s the difference between “under consideration” and “under active consideration”?’ I asked.

‘“Under consideration” means we’ve lost the file. “Under active consideration” means we’re trying to find it!’

I think this might have been one of Bernard’s little jokes. But I’m not absolutely certain.

Bernard was eager to tell me what I had to do in order to lighten the load of my correspondence. ‘You just transfer every letter from your in-tray to your out-tray. You put a brief note in the margin if you want to see the reply. If you don’t, you need never see or hear of it again.’

I was stunned. My secretary was sitting there, seriously telling me that if I move a pile of unanswered letters from one side of my desk to the other, that is all I have to do? [Crossman had a similar proposition offered, in his first weeks in office — Ed.]

So I asked Bernard: ‘Then what is the Minister for?’

‘To make policy decisions,’ he replied fluently. ‘When you have decided the policy, we can carry it out.’

It seems to me that if I do not read the letters I will be somewhat ill-informed, and that therefore the number of so-called policy decisions will be reduced to a minimum.

Worse: I would not know which were the decisions that I needed to take. I would be dependent on my officials to tell me. I suspect that there would not be very many decisions left.

So I asked Bernard: ‘How often are policy decisions needed?’

Bernard hesitated. ‘Well… from time to time, Minister,’ he replied in a kindly way.

It is never too soon to get tough. I decided to start in the Department the way I meant to continue. ‘Bernard,’ I said firmly, ‘this government governs. It does not just preside like our predecessors did. When a nation’s been going downhill you need someone to get into the driving seat, and put his foot on the accelerator.’

‘I think perhaps you mean the brake, Minister,’ said Bernard.

I simply do not know whether this earnest young man is being helpful, or is putting me down.

November 11th

Today I saw Sir Humphrey Appleby again. Haven’t seen him for a couple of days now.

There was a meeting in my office about the official visit to the UK of the President of Buranda. I had never even heard of Buranda.

Bernard gave me the brief last night. I found it in the third red box. But I’d had very little time to study it. I asked Humphrey to tell me about Buranda — like, where is it?

‘It’s fairly new, Minister. It used to be called British Equatorial Africa. It’s the red bit a few inches below the Mediterranean.’