Today we met the Select Committee and I really put the cat among the pigeons.
They started with the plastic-coated copper wire in the heated sheds. Humphrey gave the answer that he and I had agreed he would give when we met earlier today. He said that the error actually occurred before some important facts were known and that he was able to answer the Committee that no such oversight could possibly occur again.
He asked me to agree.
My answer surprised him.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Sir Humphrey’s reply is absolutely correct. The correct
Humphrey turned and stared at me in astonishment.
‘Of course there’s waste,’ I continued carefully, ‘whatever the excuses that we can always find for individual cases. You have convinced me that our whole attitude is wrong.’
It was clear from the expression on his face that they had not convinced Sir Humphrey.
Nevertheless, I took my courage in both hands, and continued. ‘Ministers and their civil servants cover up and defend where we should seek out and destroy.’ Sir Humphrey was now absolutely aghast. ‘I have spoken to Mr Malcom Rhodes, the author of this invaluable book, and he has agreed to give extensive evidence to an outside independent enquiry which I shall set up.’ I could see Sir Humphrey out of the corner of my eye, putting his head in his hands. ‘This will examine the whole of government administration, starting with my Department.’
The Chairman looked pleased. ‘How does Sir Humphrey react to this?’ he asked.
Sir Humphrey lifted his head from his hands and tried to speak. But no words came out.
I quickly answered for him. ‘He is in full agreement. We work as a team, don’t we Humphrey?’ He nodded weakly. ‘And I may say he’s a pleasure to work with.’
Meanwhile, Betty Oldham had been thrown into a state of confusion. She was still trying to attack me, but there was no longer any reason to do so.
‘But Minister,’ she complained shrilly, ‘this account of what’s been going on doesn’t square with what you were saying in your Washington speech about a ruthless war on waste.’
I was ready for that. In my most patronising manner I explained my position. ‘Well Betty,’ I said, ‘I’m an old- fashioned sort of chap. I believe in things like loyalty. Whatever you say to them privately, you defend your chaps in public. Eh, Humphrey?’
Humphrey was now eyeing me as if I were a rabid dog.
‘In that case,’ pressed Mrs Oldham, ‘aren’t you being rather disloyal to them now?’
‘No,’ I explained charmingly, ‘because in the end a Minister has a higher loyalty – a loyalty to Parliament, a loyalty to the nation. And that loyalty must take precedence, come what may, painful as it may be. My belief is that one is loyal to one’s department and one’s officials until the evidence is overwhelming. But I must now say in public what I have long been saying in private: that reforms can and will be carried out and I know that in Sir Humphrey I will find my staunchest ally. Isn’t that so, Humphrey?’
‘Yes Minister,’ replied my staunchest ally in a thin choking voice of pure hatred.
After the meeting was over Humphrey, Bernard and I strolled back across Whitehall to the DAA. It was a lovely sunny autumn day with a cool breeze from the river. I was feeling fairly positive about it all, though desperately hoping that I had not misunderstood Sir Mark’s intentions. It seemed to me that I had just been as loyal as could be to the PM, even though I’d upset Sir Humphrey more than somewhat.
Humphrey didn’t speak all the way back to the Department. He was too angry. Bernard didn’t either. He was too frightened.
In fact, nothing was said until we were back in my office. Humphrey had followed me into my room, so clearly he did have something to say to me.
I shut the door and looked at him expectantly.
‘That was a big help Minister,’ he began bitterly.
‘I did my best,’ I replied with a modest smile.
He stared at me, trying to understand why I had behaved as I had. He must have thought that I had gone out of my mind.
‘You did your best for yourself, perhaps,’ he said. ‘So this is your idea of teamwork, is it? Most amusing, if I may say so.’
I felt I should explain. So I started to say that I had to do it, that I’d had no choice. He wouldn’t listen.
‘You had to do
‘Not for me, I hope,’ I replied.
He shook his head, more in sorrow than in anger. ‘You hope in vain, Minister. The Department will be up in arms – they will have very little confidence in you in future. And as for Number Ten – well, I shudder to think how the PM may react to a public admission of failure.’
I said nothing. As I sat there, wondering for a moment if I’d made a ghastly mistake, Bernard knocked and came in. He was holding an envelope.
‘Excuse me, Minister, sorry to interrupt,’ he said nervously, ‘but here’s a personal letter from the Prime Minister.’
