A View From The Foothills Read online

  Tuesday, 28 September

  To Channel Four breakfast, where I sat next to Tony Benn, who amused himself filming the proceedings with his latest gadget, a small video recorder. Tony seems genuinely pleased by my elevation, although privately he must be contemptuous.

  During the lunch break there was a large demonstration of foxhunters baying ‘Listen to us’ and sounding horns and whistles. A mixture of tweedy toffs and ruddy-faced retainers. Many of the male toffs had caps perched on their heads and chins thrust arrogantly outward. I stood for half an hour watching them pass. By and large it was a good-natured affair, although there were some nasty posters depicting Tony Blair as Hitler. The more I watched, the more obvious it became that we have nothing whatever to fear from these people. They were by and large the blood sports wing of the Tory Party. To aid identification they held up placards saying where they came from. More or less a list of the safest Tory seats in the country. I came away greatly encouraged.

  Decided not to stay for The Speech. I made my escape and watched on television. Typical Blair fare. Long on vision, short on specifics. Addressed to the nation, rather than the party (a lesson that poor Neil Kinnock never learned). He began with a reference to the demonstration. ‘I know farming is in crisis. We are doing our best to help, but I don’t believe that the future of the countryside depends on fox-hunting.’ Hooray, he’s decided to come out fighting.

  Wednesday, 29 September

  To the conference hall for JP’s speech. As I was entering, two cars sped down the hill from the Highcliff Hotel to the conference centre and disgorged JP and Pauline. Alarm bells rang. Is it wise, when you are about to utter on prime-time telly lots of fine sentiments about reducing car usage, to travel 300 yards by car?

  The speech went well. I sat next to JP’s special adviser, Joe Irvin who had the text on his knee. It was laid out like a long poem. The sentences were short and each clause was on a separate line. Two new national parks – South Downs and New Forest – were announced. Air traffic control was tackled head on. A two-minute standing ovation followed. In contrast to yesterday’s much longer one for The Man, this was the real thing. The Man is respected, JP is loved. He may be a curmudgeonly, impossible minister, but at the end of the day people know that he is on their side.

  All would have been well had it ended there but, alas, it was not to be. Fresh from his triumph, JP went off to give a series of disastrous television interviews. Inevitably, he was asked about his 300-yard car ride to the conference centre. Equally inevitably, he lost his temper. The interview is running high up the television news bulletins. Tomorrow’s tabloids are awaited with trepidation.

  Thursday, 30 September

  ‘HYPOCRITE’ proclaims a headline in the Mirror this morning over the story of JP’s short car ride. The Sun and the Star are just as bad. Poor old JP. I do feel sorry for him. So much effort went into that speech. There was a lot of good stuff in it and this is what he ends up with. And not only in the tabloids. Simon Hoggart has a wickedly funny piece in this morning’s Guardian commenting on the angry tone in which all JP’s pronouncements are delivered. Says Hoggart, ‘He announced the creation of two new national parks in the way you might announce the annexation of the Sudetenland.’

  To the Department, where several feet of paperwork awaited. Jessica produced a note from the press office headed ‘Ministerial Travel’:

  As a result of this week’s press coverage from Bournemouth we are likely on Monday morning to have photographers outside Eland House looking at Ministers’ modes of travel … Private secretaries will want to give some thought to travel arrangements for ministers over the next few weeks. We will need to be whiter than white.

  I, at least, have nothing to fear.

  Monday, 11 October

  Back to the Department after an absence of ten days. As I suspected, there is no truth in the Guardian story the other day alleging that the sale of air traffic control is to be abandoned. JP checked with Downing Street this morning and the line is that as long as he and Gordon are behind the sale, The Man will go along with it. I was told this by Richard Mottram, the Permanent Secretary, who I ran into in the lift. He added, ‘Of course that doesn’t mean they won’t pull the rug from under us later. We’ve been shafted by Downing Street so many times.’ Richard made no secret about his view of the proposed sale. There was, he said, no reason why Gordon couldn’t come up with the money. ‘The sums involved are trivial.’ He added, ‘The problem is, if we were to sell anything less than 46 per cent, the Central Statistical Office would classify air traffic control as being still in the public sector. A great system we’ve invented.’

  We have managed to get the government car service off our backs at last. They had been demanding that we pay £4,000 depreciation on the grounds that they have no choice but to sell the car allocated for me. However, when Jessica informed them that I would like another meeting with the chief executive, he suddenly discovered that he was able to redeploy the car after all. Total victory.

  The number of letters awaiting signature after my absence is so large that the overflow is housed in two large cardboard boxes on the floor of my office. According to Jessica, I sign more letters than any other minister in the Department. That’s all I am really, a glorified correspondence clerk. Much of the recent upsurge has been caused by a postcard campaign organised by Friends of the Earth. About 500 MPs have written in, enclosing copies of the postcard, and they all have to be replied to individually. Some lazy sods have sent in up to ten postcards, each with a covering letter, and each has been replied to separately. I have sent word, via Jessica, that in future I will refuse to sign identical letters to the same MP.

  Reshuffle. Peter Mandelson is back as Northern Ireland Secretary. Jack Cunningham is out, replaced by Mo Mowlam. Geoff Hoon becomes Defence Secretary, after just three months at the Foreign Office. Alan Milburn replaces Frank Dobson at Health. Frank, to everyone’s amazement, has decided after all to run for Mayor of London. What on earth can have persuaded him? My guess is that The Man indicated that he would be leaving the Cabinet anyway and so Frank decided that he had nothing to lose. The most inexplicable appointment is Keith Vaz, who, after an undistinguished few months at the Lord Chancellor’s department, goes to the Foreign Office as a minister of state. Keith is an utter lightweight. How on earth does he fit into the New Labour masterplan? As for Mandelson, it is now inevitable that he will become Foreign Secretary after the election.

  Tuesday, 12 October

  Buried deep in the pile of letters awaiting my signature was one addressed to Elliot Morley suggesting that I am opposed to the UK raising farm-animal welfare at the World Trade talks which are due to open in Seattle next month. This was accompanied by a copy of a letter from George Foulkes saying that to do so would be seen by the Third World as a ploy by Europe to erect new trade barriers. Elliot’s letter, soliciting the comments of other departments, was dated 27 July and the deadline for responses had already expired. Since the views to which I was being asked to put my signature were the exact opposite of my own, I declined to sign and asked to see the officials concerned. In the meantime I rang Elliot, who urged me to stand firm.

  The officials duly appeared. I could get no sense from them as to why it had taken ten weeks to respond to Elliot. They then produced a new draft, which was a slightly watered-down version of the original. I refused to sign that, too. It then emerged that the matter had already gone to Cabinet committee last week and that our officials had pursued the line which I was being asked to endorse retrospectively.

  ‘On whose authority?’ They then claimed that in my absence the papers had gone to Gus Macdonald. I bet they did, buried in a big pile a few hours before the expiry of the deadline. We have been bounced.

  Great excitement in the private office because we have received what they call ‘a bid’ for an interview from the Radio 4 Today programme. In my last incarnation, requests for interviews on Today were ten a penny, but in my present obscurity they hav
e rarity value. It is no longer a case of a message left on an answerphone to which I may or may not respond. Nowadays all requests have to be channelled via the Department’s vast press office. Nor are they any longer a question of turning up at the appointed place at the appointed time. First the bid has to be cleared with JP. Then appropriate officials have to be consulted as to the ‘Line to Take’. This will eventually appear in the form of a note which has been copied halfway round the building. The subject of Today’s bid is air traffic control and safety, in advance of talks I am due to have with the unions tomorrow. I am not at all keen, since this is dangerous territory. Nevertheless, the wheels are in motion. A time and place agreed. A radio car is organised. Then comes word from on high that the interview is off. JP has vetoed it. No reason offered. I am forbidden. That is all. Perhaps he thinks I’ll make a mess of it. Or worse still (but unlikely given the subject matter) I might prove an unexpected success. It is not as though JP’s own appearances on Today have been such an unmitigated triumph.

  Wednesday, 13 October

  A meeting with Michael Meacher to discuss the dreaded leylandii. After two years of faffing, the Department has come up with a leaflet designed to advise on suitable hedging for suburban gardens. As officials proudly point out, it has been produced with the co-operation of the industry and will be distributed via garden centres. ‘Where,’ asks Michael, ‘does it actually say that it is not a good idea to plant leylandii?’

  ‘Ah, well, Minister, it doesn’t quite put it as boldly as that. We have to be careful of upsetting the industry.’ Pure Yes, Minister. In fact, as one of the officials cheerfully points out, the leaflet could be seen as encouraging the sale of fast-growing hedging – the exact opposite of what we are trying to achieve. To be fair, it is not entirely their fault. On the contrary, our officials are keen to act against the demon leylandii – about which we receive hundreds of letters each year. The problem lies elsewhere. Objections have been received from the Home Office, the Lord Chancellor and Downing Street. Incredibly, we are asked to believe that The Man himself has given thought to the matter and has personally vetoed legislation. So instead we are consulting.

  Later, Brian Hackland – from Number 10 – comes to see me and I bend his ear on the subject of leylandii. Amazingly, it rapidly becomes clear that The Man has indeed given his personal attention to the matter. What’s more, according to Brian, he is likely to veto even a consultation which might lead to legislation. Unbelievable. It’s not as though we are upsetting anyone. We are in danger of exposing ourselves to ridicule if we can’t cope with a problem as simple as this.

  In the afternoon the air traffic unions came in to discuss safety with the regulator, the unfortunately named Mr Profitt. A heated meeting. They were an impressive bunch and put their case forcefully. Rightly they are angry about not having been consulted in advance.

  The more I think about this privatisation that we are not allowed to call privatisation, the more I wonder if it is worth the trouble.

  A brief chat with Michael Meacher in the evening. He obviously enjoys his job. He is very good at it and JP lets him get on more or less unmolested. Michael, however, remains as far from being a paid-up New Labourite as ever. Geoff Hoon’s promotion he called ‘outrageous’. The private finance initiative, he says, will come back to haunt us. Our inability to come to grips with leylandii he described as ‘risible’. I recounted this morning’s conversation with Brian Hackland. Michael rang him there and then and argued for 20 minutes. By the end it had become clear that Hackland himself, pleasant and mild-mannered though he is, is part of the problem rather than the solution.

  Thursday, 14 October

  Liverpool

  Our first call was the Housing Action Trust set up by the Tories to take over a huge slice of Liverpool’s worst public housing which the city council was incapable of managing. Most of the Trust’s 67 tower blocks are in the process of being demolished and replaced with goodquality low-rise. It was given a huge sum of money – £260 million – and told to get on with it. Needless to say there was a lot of squealing from Derek Hatton and friends, but from what I saw it’s a great success.

  I can’t remember what Old Labour’s line on Housing Action Trusts was, but I bet we were opposed. Something else the Tories were right about.

  Liverpool city council, now run by Liberals, has seen the light and is getting out of housing management. We visited two other estates.

  One which had been handed over to a housing association and transformed and one which was just about to be. On one we witnessed two large black dogs attacking a villainous-looking youth while the owner, another obvious villain, was trying to get them under control. Afterwards the villain who had been attacked beat one of the dogs soundly with a belt. I was later told that the dogs were Neapolitans, which are said to be fiercer than Rottweilers. The villain apparently owned six.

  As one of my hosts remarked, ‘You can’t accuse us of stage-managing your visit.’

  Friday, 15 October

  Called Chief Whip, Ann Taylor, to put in a word for Jean Corston to be my successor as Home Affairs Committee chairman. Ann asked how I was getting on. I replied that it was every bit as dreadful as I had imagined. We discussed air traffic control. Ann is worried that it is going to cause us a lot of trouble. She said, ‘JP has been asked directly’ – by The Man, I assume – ‘whether he still wants to go ahead and he insists on doing so.’ She said it was a deal between JP and Gordon.

  ‘Number 10 was not involved.’ She added that it will hold up the Strategic Rail Authority, which JP is anxious to press ahead with. I asked if she had discussed this with JP. She said she had tried, but it was hard to get his attention. The sale has no friends apart from JP and Gordon. Number 10 is neutral. The Chief Whip is against. Parliament is hostile. So are the public. So is just about everyone in the Department, up to and including the Permanent Secretary.

  Sunday, 17 October

  Sunderland

  Jack Straw returned my call, ringing from the back of his car on the way back to London from Oxfordshire with his family. We chatted for half an hour. We were cut off four times, although he assured me the line was secure. Halfway through he relayed a message from his daughter Charlotte: her friend Rosa had recently read A Very British Coup and cried at the end.

  Leylandii was item one on the agenda. As I suspected, Jack is sound on the issue and was surprised to hear the Home Office were objecting. He promised to chase up the response to our consultation document and ensure it was friendly.

  We discussed JP. Briefly, I described his disastrous management style. ‘You can sack or reshuffle all the under-secretaries you like, but it doesn’t address the real problem.’ I added, ‘I accept that politically nothing can be done.’

  ‘Not any more,’ replied Jack. ‘That might have been true a year or two ago, but not now.’ According to Jack, JP’s star is waning. ‘Floundering’ was the word he used. He wasn’t gleeful about it, just matter of fact, adding, ‘I like the guy.’

  Talk turned to air traffic control. Jack said, ‘If you think it can’t be delivered, let me know and I’ll talk to Tony.’ Suddenly it dawned on me that, were I to exert myself using my various back-channels to The Man (Jack, Ann Taylor, Bruce Grocott) I could probably get the whole thing called off. I hesitated, saying that I couldn’t yet be sure, but I would come back to him if need be. The truth is that, unlike many, I have no principled objection to what is proposed. Much of the huffing and puffing on the subject comes from people who haven’t got a clue what they are talking about. Many have disguised an ideological objection to the sale of any state asset with unfounded arguments about safety. So far as I can see there is no threat to safety. If anything, we are going to improve the safety arrangements. The problem is purely political, made worse by the rail disaster at Paddington.

  Monday, 18 October

  Another exchange about leylandii with Brian Hackland, the man from Number 10. ‘The climate in Downing Street is not right,�
�� he asserted.

  ‘What climate? I bet the Prime Minister hasn’t devoted more than 30 seconds of his time to the matter.’

  He conceded that this was so. I pressed him on where the trouble lay and reluctantly he disgorged two names, Jonathan Powell and Anji Hunter.

  ‘Anji Hunter? Where does she fit in?’

  ‘The Prime Minister values her political antennae.’

  So there we have it. Our entire effort is paralysed on the whim of someone officially described as the Prime Minister’s Special Assistant. Come back Marcia Falkender.

  Tuesday, 19 October

  At my desk by 8.15, after a pleasant stroll through St James’s Park, which was swarming with police awaiting the arrival at the Palace of the Chinese President, Jiang Ximin.

  At 8.30 there was a meeting of ministers. It has now been decreed that these will be fortnightly (as opposed to monthly). JP, who was unusually subdued (although he still talked 75 per cent of the time), was slumped in his usual chair, tie undone. The royal standard on Buckingham Palace fluttered directly above his head. There was talk of Paddington. JP said it was nonsense to blame the accident on privatisation. Accidents had dropped by half since then. He added, however, that the number of trains passing red lights was up by a third.

  Leylandii surfaced briefly. To much nervous mirth JP revealed that he had 16 at the bottom of his garden. He’d better get them cut before the media find out, otherwise we shall have another public relations disaster on our hands. Somebody mentioned the problem we had encountered at Number 10. ‘As usual,’ muttered JP.

  To Birmingham, ostensibly to open the International Water Exhibition. I made a short speech to a handful of bemused visitors and cut a ribbon, but in fact the exhibition had been open a couple of hours by the time I arrived. ‘I wondered if you’d notice,’ remarked one of the organisers when I pointed this out. Of course I bloody noticed. Just as I noticed in Liverpool last week that the plaque I unveiled appeared to have been hastily erected in the middle of nowhere and no doubt removed soon after my departure. So much ministerial activity is entirely contrived and pointless. I spent an hour and a half touring stands, pressing flesh, and then sped back to London, where I rounded off the afternoon chairing a conference of prime ministers from the Overseas Dependent Territories, in the map room at the Foreign Office. Not as grand as it sounds since most of them represented populations no bigger than one or two local government wards. The Prime Minister of Anguilla (pop. 10,000) slept throughout, awaking briefly to demand that we build him a new international airport.