The Complete Yes Minister

The help that I received from Tom Sargent in the matter of the National Data Base might seem unusual to those who are outside the extraordinary world of politics. Strange though it may seem to those members of the public who read numerous abusive speeches in which members of the two main political parties revile each other as incompetent, dishonest, criminally stupid and negligent, cross-party friendships are extremely common. In fact, it is much easier to be friends with a member of the opposite party than a member of one’s own party — for one is not in direct personal competition for office with members of the Opposition in the way that one is with one’s colleagues.

All my Cabinet colleagues and I were naturally in bitter competition with each other during our years in Opposition. In the last three months we’ve all been so busy trying to deal with the real opposition — the Civil Service — that we’ve not had any real time to do-down each other. But I have a hunch, from the recent atmosphere in Cabinet, that some political manoeuvring is in the air again.

There are still numerous other matters concerning me, about which I have also had a little time to reflect this weekend. I realised early on (in my first week as a Minister, in fact) that Open Government presents real problems. It was made clear to me that if people stop having secrets they stop having power.

In fact, paradoxically, government is more open when it is less open. Open Government is rather like the live theatre: the audience gets a performance. And it gives a response. But, like the theatre, in order to have something to show openly there must first be much hidden activity. And all sorts of things have to be cut or altered in rehearsals, and not shown to the public until you have got them right.

The drawback with all this is that it begs the question — which is that the Civil Service keeps secrets from Ministers. They say they don’t, but I’m sure they do. I’m now all in favour of keeping secrets from the public of course, for the reasons I’ve just given, but it should be my privilege, as the people’s elected representative, to decide when to keep the people in ignorance. It should not be up to the Civil Service to keep me in ignorance.

Unfortunately, it is pretty hard to get this across to them.

I have also learned a few general lessons. I must never show my hopes or fears to Humphrey, if I can avoid it — especially party fears. If you give away your political weaknesses, they’ll destroy you. You have to keep them guessing.

I now realise that I should always get civil servants to commit themselves first. Never say, ‘I think…’, but always say, ‘What do you think…?’

I’ve also learned about ‘yes’ and ‘no’. You can always turn a ‘no’ into a ‘yes’ — but not vice versa. Furthermore, when you say ‘no’, let the Private Office say it for you — but when you say ‘yes’, pre-empt the Private Office and phone up yourself. That way, they get the blame and I get the credit.

In fact, the point about making your own phone calls is crucial. The whole system is designed to prevent you from doing anything yourself. As far as the Civil Service is concerned, you must never make a phone call, or sort out a problem. Woe betide any Minister who lifts the phone to try to sort out a foreign trade deal, for instance. Civil servants will come at you from all sides mouthing phrases like, ‘it’s an FCO matter… correct channels… policy hangs by a thread… you do realise, don’t you?… what if something were to go wrong?… on your head be it, Minister!’ and many others.

This is all very squashing to the morale of an important public figure such as myself. If you’re not careful they’ll eventually have you in such a state that you’ll be frightened to phone Potters Bar.

Furthermore, everything that one does is carefully watched and supervised. Bernard listens in to all my phone calls, except the ones that I make on the private line. The theory is that he can make useful notes on my behalf, and is fully informed about my views and activities — true! But, as we know, information is a double-edged sword. [It’s no accident that most of the really powerful offices in the world are called ‘Secretary’ — Secretary of State, Permanent Secretary, General Secretary, Party Secretary, etc. ‘Secretary’ means the person who is entrusted with the secrets, the information no one else knows — the élite — Ed.]

I must say, though, that I find it an invaluable way to pass on criticism of my permanent officials, knowing that Bernard is listening in to my every word!