by Chris Mullin
It is signed by a Mr Gordon Hill of the School House in Pennywell. I once saved his daughter’s job. At the time he professed himself grateful, but there is no gratitude in politics.
Among the customers at the surgery this evening a family of asylum seekers from the Ukraine, evangelical Christians who claim to have been persecuted for their beliefs. I believe them although it is clear that a large part of their motivation must be a desire to escape the poverty and hopelessness of their homeland. And who can blame them? The problem is that their first port of call was Spain and so, under the terms of the Dublin Convention, they are the responsibility of the Spaniards. There is no argument I can make. Their son, a bright little chap a year younger than Sarah, sat between them translating.
The mother sobbed as I explained that I can do nothing beyond asking for a few weeks’ delay to allow for a dignified exit.
How I wish our bored, spoiled, disaffected youth could see this little scene. These people would have given anything, anything, to change places with any one of us. For a chance of school, work, hope. And yet they are the doomed and I can do nothing to save them. I lay awake worrying. What is to become of them?
Tuesday, 12 February
Alastair Campbell came to the Northern Group of MPs this evening, attracting a better turnout than most Cabinet ministers. Despite the shells exploding all around, he was as cheerful, relaxed and uncompromising as usual. ‘We can afford to relax about the daily feeding frenzies,’ he said. ‘You’ve got to believe in what you are doing and take the crap. Eventually the dots will join up and make a picture.’ The big lesson of our first term, according to Alastair, is that the media don’t speak for public opinion. ‘If we stick to our basic argument, we can get it out.’
Wednesday, 13 February
An entertaining lunch with John Gilbert in the Lords’ dining room. John says that Europe’s dependence on the Americans to carry out any meaningful operation is an embarrassment – they flew 85 per cent of the missions over Kosovo. Star Wars, says John, is ‘madness – a complete waste of money, but if the Americans want to waste their money, let them’.
On the events of 11 September: ‘We must all be grateful to those guys who brought down the fourth plane. If it had hit the White House, with or without Mrs Bush inside, the Americans wouldn’t have asked questions, they’d have nuked someone.’
On Iraq, John sounded alarm bells. The other night he attended a dinner in honour of Senator Sam Nunn. Of the dozen people around the table, everyone believed that the Americans are preparing for a land invasion of Iraq. ‘Insanity,’ says John. ‘We won’t back them, will we? Blair couldn’t get it through the parliamentary party.’ (I wouldn’t count on that). ‘My approach to Iraq,’ he said cheerfully, ‘would be to say to Saddam, “By all means waste your money on missiles, but use one and we’ll take 18 inches of topsoil off your country.”’
‘Before opening a new front in Iraq,’ I said, ‘perhaps the Americans should spend a little more time helping us to clear up in Afghanistan.’
‘Haven’t you heard what they say?’
‘No.’
‘“Great powers don’t do the dishes.”’
To Committee Room 11 to hear The Man report on his Africa trip.
‘Africa,’ he said, ‘is the only continent going backwards.’ He talked of a new Marshall Plan. Africans must take action on corruption and conflict resolution. We have to move on aid and trade. Most of the peacekeeping could be done by regional (mainly African) forces, trained, funded and equipped by developed nations under a UN mandate. Listening, you realise that he’s serious. He’s thought it through. He is treading where other leaders fear to tread. There are no votes in it, or at least very few. He’s doing it because it is right. Maybe something will come of it, maybe it won’t, but he’s determined to try. Believe it or not, we are led by an idealist. Moments like this enable one to look the cynics in the eye and say that New Labour is not just a collection of control freaks and spin doctors. Idealism is not dead.
At the parliamentary committee Gordon Prentice triggered a discussion about hunting, pointing out that the Scots had just voted for a ban. ‘Our problem is the Lords,’ said John Prescott. At which point the spotlight turned on the Lords’ whip, Denis Carter, who said that, if the Parliament Act was to be used, it would have to be done this year. There was not enough time.
‘Why not bring the Lords back in mid-September?’ I suggested. Denis hummed and hawed. It was soon apparent that he didn’t want to disturb their holiday.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Let’s have all that on the table. If the Lords is the problem, let’s expose that, so the public won’t think we are hiding behind them.’
‘If we are to have a constitutional crisis, I can’t think of a better time or a better issue,’ said Tony Lloyd.
I asked Denis if there was any way we could get a hunting ban through the Lords.
‘In my view, no.’
At which point JP suddenly sprung to life. ‘At the heart of this is political credibility. If we don’t use the Parliament Act now, when can we? This is a small issue, but it’s gnawing away at our credibility. It’s a gut issue. We’ve got to get it cleared out of the system. If we get beat, fine, but we’ve got to try.’ He said he would raise it at Cabinet tomorrow.
Finally, to Wimbledon for dinner with my old friends James and Margaret Curran, Liz Forgan and Rex Cowan. Also there were Jean Seaton and Ben Pimlott. James and Margaret said they were no longer Labour Party members. New Labour’s handling of the London mayoral selection was the final straw. Liz told the story, which she had heard from Laurie Taylor, of John Birt’s walking holiday in France with a group of friends. It all had to be scientifically organised. No detail unattended. Laurie had been deputed to put together a brief containing everything there was to know about the terrain through which they would be passing. In the end he had funked and paid someone to do it for him. They arrived at the top of a mountain, John opened his rucksack and produced a mini-washing line, complete with clothes pegs, on which he hung his shirt to dry. Clearly, a man who leaves nothing to chance.
Thursday, 14 February
Jo Moore, Steve Byers’s spin doctor, has resigned. The hacks have been determined to get her ever since she survived last September’s folly. My guess is that they won’t let up. They’ll be after Steve next.
My goodness, it’s coming down hard. Every day a new feeding frenzy. No sooner is one falsehood knocked on the head than a new one appears. The Lobby are growing increasingly shameless, no longer bothering even to check with their victim before publishing and when caught out they simply move, unblushingly, on to their next target. A favourite tactic is to wilfully misrepresent a statement by a minister and then ring around looking for someone to denounce on the basis of that misrepresentation. Increasingly, even the BBC takes its cue from the tabloids. This must be what’s known as ‘news with attitude’. Each day begins with John Humphrys waxing indignant (he no longer makes much effort to conceal his own views) on Today, and ends with Jeremy Vine, a cynical smart arse if ever there was, on Newsnight. The subtext is generally the same: all our politicians are corrupt/ incompetent/dishonest. To be fair it isn’t just politics, it’s everything.
All our institutions – the health service, the railways, the monarchy – are under daily assault. The media have given up on the Tory party and increasingly manufacture their own news. It’s nothing personal. For the most part it is not political either. To some extent, of course, it’s our own fault. In opposition we played all the same cards and now we are reaping the whirlwind.
Saturday, 16 February
Sunderland
To South Hylton to attend a public meeting about a mobile-phone mast that is about to be erected, with a minimum of consultation, in the centre of the village. I usually avoid weekend engagements, but Ngoc advises that I have to be seen taking more interest in the issues that concern my constituents, and she’s right. I must overcome the notion that I am some kind of obsess
ive do-gooder interested only in helping asylum seekers and terrorists. The meeting was full of elderly folk who fear that they – or their grandchildren – are all about to be irradiated. Understandably, they don’t believe official assurances that the technology is harmless. As one of them said, ‘That’s what they used to say about asbestos 30 years ago.’ I promised to do what I could, taking care not to arouse false hopes, and to my amazement they all applauded when I left.
Tuesday, 19 February
In the company of management I toured the Dewhirst Menswear factories at Hendon and Pennywell. Row after row of women in yellow smocks sitting at machines which ingeniously cut, stitch, press and iron in accordance with instructions from a computer. The end result of which is six thousand Marks & Spencer suits a week. The problem, which no amount of scientific organisation can avert, is that the same skills are available in Morocco for a fifth of the price and in China for, who knows – a tenth? ‘We are staring at a black hole,’ said John Haley, the managing director. He is desperately trying to diversify. The only practical option is America, where there is a market for volume mens-wear. The problem is that the home of free trade imposes a 23 per cent tariff on textile imports from the UK. So much for the special relationship.
Friday, 22 February
Sunderland
To lunch with Echo editor Andrew Smith. I proposed – and Andrew agreed – that we reduce my column to once a fortnight. It’s become a chore and I am upsetting too many people. I sense I am beginning to get up the nose of Echo readers. They need to see less of me.
Monday, 25 February
A new feeding frenzy has developed around Steve Byers over his attempt to get rid of Martin Sixsmith, the chief press officer at his department. It had been announced that Sixsmith had resigned at the same time as Jo Moore, but now it appears he hasn’t. Yesterday Sixsmith went public with his version of events, which included a memorable quote from the Department’s Permanent Secretary, Richard Mottram, on discovering that his resignation had been announced prematurely: ‘We’re all fucked. You’re fucked. The whole Department is fucked.’ It’s certainly a mess. Gordon Prentice was on the radio this morning talking about ‘a spreading stain’. True, but unhelpful. This is a moment that calls for a little basic solidarity.
Tuesday, 26 February
Steve made a statement in the House this afternoon. It was make or break for him. Just about all the papers are screaming for him to go. He acquitted himself well, remaining calm throughout, conceding just enough to earn himself a little credit, but not so much as to dig the pit any deeper. Most of the Cabinet turned out for him, although not The Man. ‘Where’s Blair?’ the Tories were calling.
Theresa May, for the opposition, made the same mistake as Neil Kinnock over Westland. Instead of homing in on two or three key issues, she asked a long string of who-said-what-to-who questions which let Steve off the hook. The Tories, realising she had blown it, began to look glum. Our benches laid on a magnificent display of solidarity. One after another we rose to put in a good word for Steve. Tam was the only dissident, but even he didn’t lay it on too hard. The outcome was a minor triumph, although the hacks are mightily upset at not getting their way. No one is under any illusions. They will be back.
Wednesday, 27 February
Sure enough this morning’s papers are full of indignation about Steve’s miraculous escape. They are not going to forgive him. It can only be a question of time before a new crisis is organised.
The parliamentary committee met in the Lower Ministerial Conference Room. The Man, flanked by Hilary Armstrong and Charles Clarke, sat on one side of the huge table (or rather a dozen tables pushed together) and the rest of us on the other. The mood was upbeat. ‘And now Mr Blair, why do you think we should give you the job?’ joked Jean as we faced him across the vast table. The Man opened, saying he was grateful for the way everyone had rallied round yesterday. ‘Much of what appears in the press is complete and total lies. I don’t bother reading it any more, although it outrages me when I think about it.’ He added, ‘British politics is turning into a game of “Gotcha”.’
Ann Clwyd pressed him to concede to the prior parliamentary scrutiny of arms sales. ‘It’s asking very little. A few crumbs in the direction of the party, that’s all. It would be done by a committee of MPs that you would choose. I would have thought ministers would welcome that.’
The Man gave nothing away. ‘We must be careful not to get into a situation where we regard all arms sales as bad. There are some huge contracts …’
At which point Tony Lloyd spoke up, saying that as a Foreign Office minister he had vetted arms contracts.
‘And are you in favour?’
‘Yes.’
The Man said he’d think about it, but his demeanour suggested that he wasn’t planning to think very hard.
I asked about the proposed shake-up of the Post Office. ‘Is it true that the Regulator has pushed out the boat further than the EC requires?’
‘Yes. We are working on it. We have to be careful about interfering with the Regulator.’
Hilary Armstrong reported that there had been eight applicants for the two vacancies on the Public Accounts Committee. However, they were all men. She asked for a further week in the hope that a suitable woman could be persuaded to put her name forward. This was greeted with scepticism by those of us who believe that Hilary is looking for an excuse to exclude Frank Field. Andrew Mackinlay asked the killer question: ‘How many women applied when the committee was formed in July and how many did you put on?’
Answer: five applied and none were put on, although three were found places on other committees.
‘So why the sudden interest in finding a woman?’
Hilary protested innocence, but no one believed her. In the end we reluctantly conceded that she could have another week although Jean Corston made clear to her afterwards that there would be a fuss if Frank was excluded. I regard this as the first test of whether or not anything has changed since the election. ‘Hilary has got the message,’ Jean said afterwards. We shall see.
Tuesday, 5 March
Supper with Alan Milburn and Mike O’Brien. Alan regaled us with the latest NHS crisis (there is one every day): an official has been found sitting on 1,000 unanswered parliamentary questions and he was coming in at weekends to falsify the figures, making it appear as if they had been answered. He was scathing about the civil service. ‘Everyone thinks they are white knights and that we are the villains whereas the truth, which we all know, is that many officials are useless.’ Alan says he favours a cabinet system such as they have in France where a minister brings in his own team to run a department. I reminded him that Tony Benn suggested something similar 25 years ago. ‘Better keep quiet about that,’ he said.
Mike talked about the chaos he discovered at the Immigration and Nationality Department when he was at the Home Office. Once, on a visit to IND, he opened a cupboard and found it full of unanswered mail, having just been assured there were no more outstanding letters. A hapless junior official was summoned. His explanation?
‘We put them there so that the Minister wouldn’t see them.’
Wednesday, 6 March
To the meeting of the parliamentary party, to hear Gordon Brown outline his anti-poverty strategy. ‘For the first time in 50 years,’ he proclaimed, ‘we have unemployment lower than Japan or the US. We are now in a position to convince people that we can create a stable economy so we can now borrow to invest.’ This was Gordon the Great Redistributor. He talked of integrating tax and benefits, investing in public services. Tax credits, he said, were the central building block of our strategy to eliminate child poverty and low pay. He spoke with passion. A man with a plan, operating on a plane far above the petty wrangling that consumes lesser mortals. He was impressive. If there was a leadership election now, he would certainly win.
Afterwards Hilary Armstrong invited me to her office for a quiet chat. I knew at once what it was about: stopping Frank Field
from getting onto the Public Accounts Committee. ‘I’m concerned about all the lobbying for Frank’ was her opening gambit. ‘He has his own agenda … He’ll go in with the Tories … It’s difficult to find places on select committees for younger members.’ And so on. I listened patiently and then told her firmly to close her eyes, grit her teeth and get on with it. Blackballing Frank would cause more trouble than it’s worth. She seemed resigned to the inevitable, but as I was leaving she said, ‘Some of my Cabinet colleagues think I will lose us the election.’ Which only goes to show how utterly some of our masters have lost touch with reality. We are only talking about one place on a committee for goodness sake. Not even the chairmanship. Despite all the trouble it gets them into, they just can’t stop fixing.
Rumours of an impending attack on Iraq dominated our session with The Man this afternoon. He looks washed out having spent a long weekend at the Commonwealth conference in Australia, touching down at six this morning. I assumed he must have slept, but no. He says he finds sleep difficult on planes, ‘but I got through a lot of work’. So here he is, back among us after two 24-hour flights in five days and a great deal of activity in between. A little off colour, but otherwise on good form. He recounted an exchange with the King of Swaziland, who had advised him that the second coming was due any moment.
