The Complete Yes Minister

European ideal is our best hope of overcoming narrow national self-interest.

He told me that I didn’t sound pompous – merely inaccurate.

So I explained yet again to the Humble Vessel that Europe is a community of nations united by a common goal.

He chuckled, and I asked if Bernard and I might share the joke.

He was laughing at the idea that the community was united. ‘Look at it objectively,’ he said. ‘The game is played for national interests, and always was.’

I disagreed. I reminded him that we went into the EEC to strengthen the international brotherhood of free nations.

Humphrey chuckled again. It really was most disconcerting. Then he began to tell me his interpretation – which was even more disconcerting.

‘We went in,’ he said, ‘to screw the French by splitting them off from the Germans. The French went in to protect their inefficient farmers from commercial competition. The Germans went in to cleanse themselves of genocide and apply for readmission to the human race.’

I told Humphrey that I was quite shocked by his appalling cynicism. I couldn’t actually argue with what he said because I feel, somewhat uneasily, that there is a ring of truth about it. I said: ‘At least the little nations are in it for selfless reasons.’

‘Ah yes,’ he replied. ‘Luxembourg is in it for the perks – all that foreign money pouring into the capital of the EEC.’

‘Nonetheless, it’s a very sensible location for the capital,’ I argued.

He smiled. ‘With the administration in Brussels and the Parliament in Strasbourg?’ It’s like having London as the capital with the House of Commons in Swindon and the Civil Service in Kettering.’

‘If this were true,’ I said doggedly, ‘the other countries wouldn’t have been trying to join.’

‘Such as?’

‘Well, take the Greeks.’

Sir Humphrey settled back reflectively in his chair. ‘Actually,’ he mused, ‘I find it difficult to take the Greeks. Open-minded as I am about foreigners, as well you know.’ (His total lack of self-awareness took my breath away!) ‘But what will the Greeks want out of it? – an olive mountain and a retsina lake.’ He looked at my face, and added apologetically: ‘Sorry, I suppose some of your best friends are Greek.’

I could stand no more of this cynical rubbish. I tried to broaden the discussion, to look at the real problems of the community.

‘The trouble with Brussels,’ I began, ‘is not internationalism. It’s too much bureaucracy.’

I got no further. Humphrey interrupted me again.

‘But don’t you see,’ he insisted, ‘that the bureaucracy is a consequence of the internationalism? Why else would an English Commissioner have a French Director-General immediately below him, an Italian Chef-du-Division reporting to the Frenchman, and so on down the line?’

I was forced to agree. ‘I agree,’ I said.

‘It’s the Tower of Babel,’ he said.

I was forced to agree again.

‘I agree,’ I said.

‘In fact, it’s even worse than that – it’s like the United Nations,’ he added.

I could not but agree for the third time. ‘I agree,’ I said.

We both stopped talking and gazed at each other. Where had we reached? What had we decided? What next?

Bernard tried to help out. ‘Then, perhaps, if I may interject, perhaps you are in fact in agreement.’

‘No we’re not!’ we said, in unison.

That much was certain!

‘Brussels is a shambles,’ I said, pursuing my theme of how the bureaucracy destroys the bonds between nations. I reminded Humphrey that the typical Common Market official is said to have the organising capacity of the Italians, the flexibility of the Germans and the modesty of the French. He tops all that up with the imagination of the Belgians, the generosity of the Dutch, and the intelligence of the Irish. Finally, for good measure, he has the European spirit of Mr Anthony Wedgwood Benn.¹

‘And now,’ I concluded, ‘they are all trying to screw up our excellent word-processing plan which is wholly in Britain’s interest and my interest.’

‘Which are, of course,’ added Humphrey, ‘one and the same thing.’

I stared at him, and enquired if he was being sarcastic. He denied it. I accepted his denial (though doubtfully) and continued to explore my theory of what’s wrong with Brussels.

‘The reason that Brussels bureaucrats are so hopeless is not just because of the difficulty of running an international organisation – it’s because it’s a gravy train.’

‘A what?’ asked Bernard.

‘A gravy train,’ I repeated, warming to my theme. ‘They all live off claret and caviar. Crates of booze in every office. Air-conditioned Mercedes and private planes. Every one of those bureaucrats has got his snout in the trough and most of them have got their front trotters in as well.’