Sir Humphrey stated that it was ‘officially impossible’ for weapons to turn up in non-approved hands. ‘There is stringent security, there are rigorous inspection procedures, and meticulous scrutiny.’
Officially impossible. I know what that phrase means. It means that it’s all a facade.
I challenged him with this. He smiled benignly and inclined his head a little. ‘I think perhaps this conversation should stop here, Minister, don’t you?’
I refused to play the game this time. ‘No,’ I said. ‘But it is as I thought. Last night a confidential source disclosed to me that British arms are being sold to Italian Red Terrorist Groups.’
He nodded gravely. ‘I see. May I ask who the confidential source was?’
I was staggered. ‘Humphrey! I just said that it’s confidential.’
He was unashamed. ‘Oh I’m sorry, Minister, I naturally assumed that meant you were going to tell me.’
He waited. I waited too. As I sat there, quietly watching him, I observed that he did not seem to be awfully worried about the information that I had just given him. So I questioned him on this. And indeed, he seemed to find it quite unremarkable.
‘These things happen all the time, Minister. It’s not our problem.’
‘Robbery with violence happens all the time. Doesn’t that worry you?’
‘No Minister. Home Office problem.’
I was almost speechless. He seemed to see himself only as an official, not as a citizen. Of course, that is the hat that he wears when at the office advising me, but there are moral issues involved.
‘We are letting terrorists get hold of murderous weapons,’ I expostulated.
‘We’re not.’
I was confused. ‘Well, who is?’
‘Who knows?’ He was at his most bland. ‘The Department of Trade? The Ministry of Defence? The Foreign Office?’
I was getting impatient. This was wilful stupidity, no doubt about it. ‘
‘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.)2
‘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
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.
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,
‘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.
