The Complete Yes Minister

I was getting impatient. This was wilful stupidity, no doubt about it. ‘We, Humphrey. The British Government. Innocent lives are being endangered by British weapons in the hands of terrorists.’

‘Only Italian lives, not British lives.’

‘There may be British tourists in Italy,’ I replied, letting the wider issue go temporarily by default. (The wider issue being that no man is an island.)[55]

‘British tourists? Foreign Office problem.’

I was wearying of this juvenile buck-passing. ‘Look, Humphrey,’ I said, ‘we have to do something.’

‘With respect, Minister…’ the gloves were coming off now, ‘… we have to do nothing.’

It seemed to me that he was somehow suggesting that doing nothing was an active rather than a passive course. So I asked him to elaborate.

He was perfectly willing to do so. ‘The sale of arms abroad is one of those areas of government which we do not examine too closely.’

I couldn’t accept that. I told him that I have to examine this area, now that I know.

He said that I could say that I didn’t know.

I wanted to be quite clear what he was saying that I should be saying. ‘Are you suggesting that I should lie?’

‘Not you, no,’ came the enigmatic response.

‘Who should lie, then?’ I asked.

‘Sleeping dogs, Minister.’

We were getting no further. Trying to have an argument with Humphrey can be like trying to squash a bowlful of porridge with your fist. I told him that I intended to raise the question and take the matter further as I was not satisfied with such reassurances as Sir Humphrey had been able to give me.

Now he looked upset. Not about bombs or terrorists or innocent lives, but about taking the matter further. ‘Please Minister, I beg of you!’

I waited for him to explain further. Perhaps I would now learn something. And I did. But not what I expected.

‘Minister, two basic rules of government: Never look into anything you don’t have to. And never set up an enquiry unless you know in advance what its findings will be.’

He was still obsessed with rules of government, in the face of a moral issue of these proportions. ‘Humphrey, I can’t believe it. We’re talking about good and evil.’

‘Ah. Church of England problem.’

I was not amused. ‘No Humphrey, our problem. We are discussing right and wrong.’

‘You may be, Minister,’ he replied smoothly, ‘but I’m not. It would be a serious misuse of government time.’

I thought at first that he was joking. But he wasn’t! He was serious, absolutely serious.

‘Can’t you see,’ I begged emotionally, ‘that selling arms to terrorists is wrong? Can’t you see that?’

He couldn’t. ‘Either you sell arms or you don’t,’ was his cold, rational reply. ‘If you sell them, they will inevitably end up with people who have the cash to buy them.’

I could see the strength of that argument. But terrorists had to be prevented, somehow, from getting hold of them.

Humphrey seemed to find this a ridiculous and/or an impractical approach. He smiled patronisingly. ‘I suppose we could put a sort of government health warning on all the rifle butts. NOT TO BE SOLD TO TERRORISTS. Do you think that would help?’ I was speechless. ‘Or better still, WARNING: THIS GUN CAN SERIOUSLY DAMAGE YOUR HEALTH.’

I didn’t laugh. I told him that it was rather shocking, in my view, that he could make light of such a matter. I demanded a straight answer. I asked him if he was saying that we should close our eyes to something that’s as morally wrong as this business.

He sighed. Then he replied, with slight irritation. ‘If you insist on making me discuss moral issues, perhaps I should point out that something is either morally wrong or it is not. It can’t be slightly morally wrong.’

I told him not to quibble.

He quibbled again. ‘Minister, Government isn’t about morality.’

‘Really? Then what is it about?’

‘It’s about stability. Keeping things going, preventing anarchy, stopping society falling to bits. Still being here tomorrow.’

‘But what for

?’ I asked.

I had stumped him. He didn’t understand my question. So I spelt it out for him.

‘What is the ultimate purpose of Government, if it isn’t for doing good?’

This notion was completely meaningless to him. ‘Government isn’t about good and evil, it’s only about order and chaos.’

I know what he means. I know that all of us in politics have to swallow things we don’t believe in sometimes, vote for things that we think are wrong. I’m a realist, not a boy scout. Otherwise I could never have reached Cabinet level. I’m not naïve. I know that nations just act in their own interest. But… there has to be a sticking point somewhere. Can it really be in order for Italian terrorists to get British-made bomb detonators?

I don’t see how it can be. But, more shocking still, Humphrey just didn’t seem to care. I asked him how that was possible.

Again he had a simple answer. ‘It’s not my job to care. That’s what politicians are for. It’s my job to carry out government policy.’

‘Even if you think it’s wrong?’

‘Almost all government policy is wrong,’ he remarked obligingly, ‘but frightfully well carried out.’