The Complete Yes Minister

abolishing the quango system, would be to make it work. And that if we set up a commission to supervise and report on the composition and activities of all quangos, it could be the answer. It could have very senior people, most Privy Councillors. I know that Frank has always secretly fancied himself hob-nobbing with Privy Councillors. I explained that such a body would need some really able people, people who have studied quangos, people who know the abuses of the system. ‘And in view of your knowledge, and concern,’ I finished, ‘Humphrey suggested your name.’

‘Privy Councillors?’ said Frank, hypnotised.

‘It’s up to you, of course,’ I added, ‘but it would be a great service to the public. How do you feel?’

‘You’re not going to change my opinions, you know,’ replied Frank thoughtfully. ‘There is such a thing as integrity.’

Humphrey and I both hastened to agree with Frank on the importance of integrity, and we pointed out that it was, in fact, his very integrity that would make him such a good member of this quango.

‘Mind you,’ Humphrey said, instinctively aware of Frank’s enormous sense of guilt which needs constant absolution and aware also of his deep commitment to the puritan work ethic, ‘it would be very hard work. I’m sure that service in this super-quango would involve a great deal of arduous foreign travel, to see how they manage these matters in other important government centres – Japan, Australia, California, the West Indies . . .’

‘Tahiti,’ I added helpfully.

‘Tahiti,’ agreed Sir Humphrey.

‘Yes,’ said Frank with an expression of acute suffering on his face, ‘it would be arduous, wouldn’t it?’

‘Very arduous,’ we both said. Several times.

‘But serving the public’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?’ asked Frank hopefully.

Humphrey and I murmured, ‘serving the public, exactly’ once or twice.

Then Frank said, ‘And what about my quango paper?’

I told him it would be invaluable, and that he should take it with him.

And Humphrey offered to keep a copy on the files – with the Solihull Report.

¹ In conversation with the Editors.

² The Crichel Down affair in 1954 was possibly the last example of a Minister accepting full responsibility for a scandal within his Department, about which he did not know and could not have known. Nevertheless, Sir Thomas Dugdale, then Minister of Agriculture and Fisheries, accepted that as the Minister he was constitutionally responsible to Parliament for the wrong actions of his officials, even though their actions were not ordered by him and would not have been approved by him. He resigned, was kicked upstairs to the Lords and a promising career came to an end. No Minister since then has been – depending on your point of view – either so scrupulous or so foolish.

8

The Compassionate Society

March 13th

Having effectively squashed the awful scandal that was brewing over the Solihull project, but having done a deal with Frank Weisel on the little matter of his suggested reforms in the quango system as a price for extricating myself from the appalling mess that Humphrey had got me into, I decided this weekend to consider my various options.

First of all it has become clear that Frank has to go. He really is very uncouth and, valuable as he was to me during my days in opposition, I can see that he lacks the subtlety, skill and discretion that my professional advisers display constantly.

[The contradiction inherent in these two paragraphs indicates the state of mental confusion in which Hacker now found himself about Sir Humphrey after five months in Whitehall – Ed.]

However, having despatched the self-righteously incorruptible Frank the day before yesterday on his arduous fact-finding mission to review important centres of government – California, Jamaica, and Tahiti – I already feel a load off my mind as one significant source of pressure on me is lifted. I felt free and easy for the first time in months, as if I had actually gained time yesterday.

I am now able to draw some conclusions about the Civil Service in general and Sir Humphrey in particular. I begin to see that senior civil servants in the open structure¹ have, surprisingly enough, almost as brilliant minds as they themselves would claim to have. However, since there are virtually no goals or targets that can be achieved by a civil servant personally, his high IQ is usually devoted to the avoidance of error.

Civil servants are posted to new jobs every three years or so. This is supposed to gain them all-round experience on the way to the top. In practice, it merely ensures that they can never have any personal interest in achieving the success of a policy: a policy of any complexity takes longer than three years to see through from start to finish, so a civil servant either has to leave it before its passage is completed or he arrives on the scene long after it started. This also means you can never pin the blame for failure on any individual: the man in charge at the end will say it was started wrong, and the man in charge at the beginning will say it was finished wrong.

Curiously the Civil Service seem to approve of this system. They don’t like civil servants to become emotionally involved in the success or failure of policies. Policies are for Ministers. Ministers or Governments stand or fall by them. Civil servants see themselves as public-spirited impartial advisers attempting to implement, with total impartiality, whatever policy the Minister or the Government see fit.

Except that they don’t, do they? There’s the rub.

Because Permanent Secretaries are always trying to steer Ministers of all parties towards ‘the common ground’. [In other words, the Department’s policy – a policy they have some hope of being able to pursue uninterrupted, whichever party is in power – Ed.]

Afterthought: considering that the avoidance of error is their main priority, it is surprising how many errors they make!

March 14th