Decline & Fall Page 2

  Alternatively, perhaps we should adopt the American system, where the government consists of Friends of The Man and where scrutiny is an entirely separate function. That at least would spare us the inconvenience, resentment and inevitable abuse of patronage occasioned by the need to find seats in either the Lords or Commons for those on the inside track.

  At six I went across to Number 10 for my farewell audience with The Man. A mite apprehensive. He was, as ever, all sweetness and light, but I emerged 15 minutes later none the wiser as to why I had been got rid of. He asked what I wanted to do. I mentioned a place on either the International Development or Foreign Affairs select committee and he looked meaningfully at his PPS, Keith Hill, as if to say, ‘See what you can do’ (not that the composition of select committees should be any of his business). Then, to my amazement, he said, ‘Would you like to be my Africa envoy?’ He went on, ‘There will be a lot of running around to do after the G8 summit. All sorts of people want to see me and I don’t have time to see all of them. An envoy carries more weight than a junior minister.’ He mentioned Lord Levy and Brian Wilson.

  ‘What about Dave Triesman? Surely that’s his job.’

  He then said something amazing. ‘There’s no longer an Africa minister as such. Dave has to do everything in the Lords. He won’t be able to travel as much as you did.’

  ‘You jammy bugger,’ said Keith, putting his arm over my shoulder when we were outside in the corridor. Later, he told me that he had reported the conversation to Sally Morgan and she had responded, ‘Whaaat?’ Meaning presumably that The Man consulted no one before making his offer – if indeed that is what it was. I very much doubt whether anything will come of it. I am not holding my breath.

  Tuesday, 24 May

  Ran into Alan Howarth (former MP for Newport, now a Noble Lord) on Millbank, who offered sympathy at my untimely demise. ‘The caprice of autocrats in our democratic system . . . how very African.’

  In the evening to a reception at Marlborough House, where I was showered with commiserations by a number of old Africa hands. Then to a BBC party in the atrium at 4 Millbank, where I had a long talk about Iraq with John Simpson. He visits every two months or so and says it’s getting worse (‘A civil war between the Sunni and the Shia has begun’). He thinks the Americans will retreat into seven or eight huge fortified compounds and that we will be stuck there for years. Like me, he was against the war at the outset, but thought they’d get away with it. I bent his ear about America’s secret gulag and he expressed interest, leaving me his email address. I will follow this up.

  Wednesday, 25 May

  A coffee with one of the special advisers who is just back from visiting Washington with Jack, who had meetings with Condi, Cheney, Rumsfeld and Bush. He says Rumsfeld and Cheney are ‘delusional’ re Iraq. Condi, contrary to rumour, is not a cipher and does appear to have a mind of her own. The Americans are not interested in Africa. There is no way they are going to sign up to our G8 agenda on aid, finance or climate change.

  Thursday, 26 May

  To Heybridge to see Mum. She has another damn infection; only a question of time before there is another fall. We chatted cheerfully for almost four hours, during the course of which she remarked, very matter of factly (no trace of self-pity), ‘It won’t be for much longer.’

  Friday, 27 May

  Sunderland

  A pile of Echos awaited. This week’s lead headlines:

  Saturday: ‘BALLY: MAN IN COURT (stabbing accused charged with murder)’

  Monday: ‘TUNNEL OF FEAR – yobs turn subway into tunnel of fear’

  Tuesday: ‘200 STITCHES – woman’s eye repaired after glassing attack’

  Wednesday: ‘BULLDOZED – treasured piece of heritage reduced to rubble’

  Thursday: ‘ENOUGH: police pledge on drunken louts who bring terror to City’s streets’

  Friday: ‘THE FACE OF PUB VIOLENCE (the shocking picture that shows why it’s time to get tough)’

  Saturday, 28 May

  The Holmes, Roxburghshire

  Loaded up the car and headed for The Holmes. A world apart. Everything in its place. Peacocks, geese, a dozen varieties of chicken, numerous donkeys, horses and a couple of llamas who had a three-day-old baby, already skipping unsteadily around the big field in the wake of her mother. And of course, presiding over the entire menagerie, white-haired Mrs Dale, vigorous as ever.

  Monday, 30 May

  To the House of the Binns, home (since 1612) of the Dalyells, only to find that it isn’t due to open for another couple of days. Disappointed, we climbed up to the folly behind the house and spent an hour enjoying the spectacular views over the Firth of Forth and were just about to leave when a woman, who from a distance I at first took to be Kathleen, emerged from The Big Hoose. In the event she was a cleaning lady who was with difficulty persuaded to concede that Tam might be in residence and showed me round to the back, where I rang the doorbell, which was answered by Kathleen. She had just returned from collecting Tam from the airport and they were about to set out again for Stirling. Much to my embarrassment she invited us in, sat us down at the kitchen table, gave us tea and cherry cake, roused Tam from his afternoon snooze and then insisted on giving us a tour of the house, which is a gem. Tam, who isn’t in the best of health, didn’t look well and I worried throughout that we might be responsible for his premature demise. Next time, I will give plenty of notice.

  Tuesday, 31 May

  The Holmes, Roxburghshire

  Raining lightly. I walked along the river and up through the woods to Bemersyde for my annual general meeting with Dawyck Haig. Alert and sprightly as ever, he insisted on the usual glass of sherry and we sat in his magnificent drawing room discussing the state of the Tory party and the future of the EU Constitution (the French having just delivered a resounding ‘Non’) and the doings of his neighbours. Then he showed me out across the garden, to a back gate leading into a field and connecting with the footpath that leads back to Dryburgh, via the Wallace monument.

  Wednesday, 1 June

  Rain all day. The Eildons invisible. We took the girls for a riding lesson near Selkirk and then drove to see Robert Owen’s mills at New Lanark, beautifully restored and displayed and so moving to think what that great man inspired. How would he wish to be remembered? As a socialist, an enlightened capitalist or a mixture of both? Whatever, his message is as relevant today as it was 200 years ago. Namely, that it is possible to make a healthy profit without grinding the noses of your workers into the dirt. Globalisers, please note.

  Saturday, 4 June

  Sunderland

  We meandered home via Scott’s View, Dundock Wood, the Hirsel and tea at Bamburgh with Charles and Barbara Baker-Cresswell. The weather held until just after three, when we were caught in torrential rain. So heavy that we had to pull over at Paxton until the worst had passed. Among the letters awaiting my return, a handwritten note from the Ethiopian Prime Minister, Meles Zenawi: ‘I am deeply saddened to learn that you have been replaced as Africa minister. I had stayed up late at night to listen to your victory speech . . . and I had hoped and assumed that your tenure . . . would be much longer.’

  Monday, 6 June

  Janet Anderson remarked to me in passing today that The Man attaches no importance to the junior jobs. ‘He regards them as sweeties to be handed out to keep the children happy.’

  Tuesday, 7 June

  Huge relief at the decision to dispense with the EU referendum, although Jack made the announcement with an entirely straight face. With one leap we are freed from the prospect of months of trench warfare trying to ram through an enabling Bill, followed by inevitable humiliation at the ballot box. At the meeting of the parliamentary party last night someone remarked, ‘Whoever persuaded the Prime Minister to opt for a referendum was either a far-sighted genius or a complete fool.’

  In the evening to a party at the Department for International Development for the launch of their annual report. Hilary Benn presided, but disappea
red upstairs to make an urgent call to Meles Zenawi about the election crisis in Ethiopia (the opposition won an unexpectedly large share of the vote, sparking angry demonstrations and a violent over-reaction from the police). Suma Chakrabati, the permanent secretary, remarked that it wasn’t sensible to dispense with the Africa minister: ‘Hilary is having to make the call because there is no one at the Foreign Office available to do so.’

  Wednesday, 8 June

  Norine MacDonald and her colleagues, Emmanuel Reinert and Fabrice Pothier, came to tell me about a programme they are running in Afghanistan. Norine is more or less based there now. The plan is to wean the Americans and the UN agencies off poppy eradication and instead persuade them to license opium and use it as a source of heroin for medical use. At present the American Drug Enforcement Agency is in charge and, as usual, they are only able think in terms of ‘a drug war’. So far, according to Norine, they have eradicated about 50 hectares at a cost of eight lives and 150 million dollars. She says that, if they carry on with forced eradication, there will be serious instability. The reality is there are no alternative livelihoods available for most people. She wants me to try and interest HMG in her scheme to grow opium for medicinal purposes.

  Lunch with Dave Triesman, the lucky man who now occupies ‘my’ grand office overlooking the Durbar Court. A delightful, warm, decent fellow; almost apologetic about what happened, even though he isn’t in any way implicated. He and Jack have been friends since their student days, which is why, I suppose, Jack offered no resistance.

  Later, Hilary Benn recounted last night’s half-hour phone call with my friend Meles Zenawi, who was talking ominously of arresting the opposition leaders for ‘treason’. It seems that the ruling party has lost control of all the cities, including Addis. The results still haven’t been officially announced even though it is nearly a month since the election and there are the inevitable opposition claims of fraud. Hilary, needless to say, urged restraint and is going to Addis next week to underline the message. Oh dear, it looks as if another of our favourite Africans is on the wobble.

  Tuesday, 14 June

  To Sunderland and back to give evidence at our appeal against the decision of the Boundary Commission to dismantle Sunderland South. My appearance before the inquiry took all of 15 minutes. A five-minute statement, followed by ten minutes of questioning by the barrister representing the Tories. On paper we ought to have a strong case. The Commission’s terms of reference stipulate minimum disruption and their proposals will cause maximum disruption. They are also supposed to pay heed to existing communities and what they are proposing is to weld together two entirely different communities, separated by the huge canyon of the A19. However, the Commission also has an over-riding duty to even out the numbers and, as Greg Cook (who led for our side) pointed out afterwards, our alternative proposal would create the second largest constituency in the country (after the Isle of Wight). So, my guess is that we will lose and I will be saddled with a seat that the Tories could win next time. An inglorious end to my 23 years in Parliament. I sense I am on a downward trajectory.

  Wednesday, 15 June

  Another little reshuffle story: Charlotte Atkins, who was aviation minister for a mere seven months, didn’t even receive a call to tell her that she was out. The Number 10 apparatchiks simply forgot that she existed. She was remarkably relaxed when I ran into her in the library and said that in any case she has since received a profuse apology from The Man, but doesn’t that say it all? What is the point of making someone a minister for only seven months, unless they make a disastrous hash of it, which Charlotte didn’t. She said, ‘I was just beginning to ask questions about night flights.’ Exactly the point I got to. No wonder the mighty vested interests at the heart of the aviation industry don’t take us seriously; what have they to fear?

  An amusing exchange with Jim Murphy, formerly PPS in the Foreign Office, now an odd-job man at the bottom end of JP’s empire. Among other things, he is in charge of addressing ‘the perception gap’ (another phrase for my New Labour lexicon) i.e. the fact that many of our constituents don’t believe a word we say. I suggested a couple of simple measures which might make a difference: (1) no 81-day summer recess, (2) junior ministers should stop riding around in official cars at £60,000 a time (Jim is also in charge of the government car service). To which I might have added: no more dodgy dossiers and no more swearing blind in your election manifesto that you will not introduce top-up fees . . . and then promptly doing just that. It’s not rocket science.

  Thursday, 16 June

  To Heybridge to see Mum. Frail as ever, but remarkably cheerful considering her plight. We talked mainly about the old days. Her first day at work in 1935, aged 15. Uncle Cyril delivered her to the front entrance of Electra House on the Thames Embankment in his gleaming new car, the only one in Ripley Road. The doorman, assuming she must be important, ushered her upstairs in the executive lift, tea was offered . . . Only to be withdrawn when it was discovered that she was starting work as a messenger in the typing pool, at which point she was curtly informed that, in future, she should enter by the staff entrance, round the corner in Arundel Street.

  Sunday, 19 June

  Father’s Day. The girls presented me with home-made cards. Emma’s consists of a picture of a flashy car (‘hint, hint’), interspersed with symbols of the things I care about (a spade, a bluebell, a sign pointing to a walled garden). Sarah’s depicts me reclining in a swimming pool while she is dangling before me grapes on a fishing rod and Emma is offering a tray with a cool drink. Ngoc, meanwhile, is in the corner chatting on her mobile. Truly, I am a lucky man.

  Tuesday, 21 June

  A pleasant lunch with Bruce Grocott at which we reflected on the excesses of New Labour and the folly of Iraq. (‘What made him do it when no one, but no one, was pressing?’) According to Bruce, The Man is conditioned by his experience in Hackney in the eighties to believe that the Labour Party is always wrong when, on this occasion at least, the instincts of the dear old Labour Party happened to be spot on.

  The Aye Lobby, 10.15pm

  A brief exchange with Alan Milburn, who says The Man is in excellent spirits and will hang on for three years ‘at least’. If so, how will Gordon and his playmates react? Actually, it is probably in Gordon’s interests to take over a year or so before an election is due, as Major did in ‘92, so that he can be represented as a new broom. ‘That’s the rational response,’ says Alan, ‘but with Gordon the rational always vies with the irrational. One thing is certain: history will not look kindly on anyone who wields the assassin’s knife.’ He added, ‘There is a lot of complacency about. If David Davis becomes leader – as looks likely – the Tories could get their act together and give us a run for our money.’ Does Alan still hanker after the top job? I suspect he may. After all – as I pointed out and as Alan readily agreed – his upbringing is remarkably similar to that of David Davis.

  Wednesday, 22 June

  To the Athenaeum for lunch with Jonathan Steele of the Guardian. Like just about everyone else I talk to who has first-hand experience of Iraq, Jonathan says the violence is getting worse; in his view the only hope of restoring stability is a phased withdrawal of US troops. Later, on the terrace at the House, I had a long talk with Ann Clwyd, who has spent the day with Jack in Brussels, at an Iraq donor conference. To my surprise, she agreed with Jonathan that a phased withdrawal may help to reduce the violence and says one is already being planned. However, she says it can’t even be hinted at until the December elections are out of the way and the trials of Saddam and his cronies are over. On the latter, she says the Iraqis are determined to execute at least the top ten Ba’athists, but she is worried at the lack of protection being offered to witnesses and even to the judges and prosecutors and their families, all of whom are at risk

  Thursday, 23 June

  Temperature in the nineties for the third day running.

  Clive Stafford Smith, a lawyer representing some of those interned at Guantan
amo, came in, together with Stephen Grey, a journalist who used to work for the Sunday Times. They want me to press the government to take back those who were British residents, but not citizens, before their arrest; otherwise they are likely to be sent back to their countries of origin, which could result in death or torture. We also talked about the secret gulag into which alleged terrorists, some kidnapped in broad daylight from the streets of Europe, are disappearing. Apparently, they are being franchised out to torturers in Syria, Libya, Morocco, Egypt. I am keen to be helpful, but nervous about being too upfront given (a) that some of these people undoubtedly are terrorists and (b) the hysteria that was organised against me when I took up similar cases in the past.