by Chris Mullin
In the evening, to the function suite at the Leisure Centre, for the Sunderland South Labour Party dinner, the first evidence for years that Sunderland South Labour Party is capable of organising anything. Steve Byers, the guest speaker, remarked during the course of the evening that The Man once told him that he would like to stay in power for longer than Margaret Thatcher, which means another six years. The first clue I have ever unearthed as to The Man’s long-term plans.
Monday, 2 December
To London on an early train. A horrendous week lies ahead. Among many other things, I have to draft a speech on the Criminal Justice Bill for Wednesday, open and close the debate on our drugs report on Thursday and prepare for the Extradition Bill next Monday. Scientific planning is required. For the last couple of weeks I have been getting in before 8 a.m. and working through until 11 p.m.
Tuesday, 3 December
I intervened on Tessa Jowell as she was introducing the Communications Bill and she confirmed that there will be nothing to stop the Americans buying up our media even though we can’t buy into theirs.
‘But we’re going to negotiate …’ she added pathetically. An odd way to negotiate, giving away your trump card before you start. ‘That’s not the worst bit,’ said the former Culture Secretary, Chris Smith, who was sitting next to me. He went on, ‘The worst bit is allowing Murdoch to buy Channel Five, which he will use to undermine ITV and Channel 4.’
‘Are you going to make that point?’
‘Er, no, I’ve only got ten minutes and there are other points I want to make.’
‘But you just said that was the worst.’
He blushed and said awkwardly, ‘It’s for others to make.’ Really?
I can’t think of anyone better qualified than the former Secretary of State.
Chris confirmed that Downing Street had been taking a close interest in the Bill. ‘Tony felt he had to give something to Murdoch.’ He then got to his feet and made a speech describing the Bill as ‘a good one which could be even better’.
‘Rather generous, in view of the conversation we have just been having,’ I said when he sat down.
Chris just smiled. I guess that’s why he was in the Cabinet and I never will be.
Wednesday, 4 December
Gordon outlined his plans for tax credits at the meeting of the parliamentary party. They are fairly dramatic. I had a chat with Dawn Primarolo, who is in her fifth year at the Treasury. Tax credits, she says, present us with a challenge. ‘The top 10 per cent of earners are going to take a big hit. Not only are we removing the cap on National Insurance payments – everyone earning over the current limit (£32,000) will pay an additional one per cent – but they won’t benefit from the child credits either. And even those who do benefit may not be entirely grateful, because it will be paid to their wives.’
At this point a little cloud began to cross a clear blue sky. If the principal beneficiaries of child tax credits are predominantly the nonvoting classes and those who take the hit are predominantly the voting classes, will we necessarily be rewarded at the ballot box? Worse, supposing that those who benefit believe that their good fortune is a gift from heaven rather than New Labour? That, says, Dawn is the challenge. A considerable one in these cynical times.
At the parliamentary committee Hilary Armstrong announced that, as a result of the new hours, standing committees would start sitting at 08.55. Helen Jackson seemed surprised by this until one or two of us pointed out that this was what she had voted for. Jean Corston said afterwards that she hardly had time for the chamber, what with all her other commitments and I gently remarked that this was the very point I had, in my cack-handed way, been trying to make when I upset all the modernisers three weeks ago: it is impossible to fit all our activities into a day which is three hours shorter.
Later, in the Tea Room, Tommy McAvoy whispered to me that my amendment on the shorter hours motion had provoked ‘hysteria’ from otherwise rational colleagues.
‘Robin seems to have staked his life on it,’ I remarked.
To which Tommy intriguingly replied, ‘Chris, sometime when we’ve got ten minutes for a quiet chat, I’ll tell you what went on.’
Thursday, 5 December
I opened and closed the debate on the select committee’s drugs report and was for once exempted from the time limit on backbench speeches. Nick Hawkins, who spoke for the Tory front bench, didn’t quite rise to the occasion, but apart from him (and that dreadful man from Romford) there were some excellent contributions from all sides. As far as users are concerned, there has been a real shift of policy in favour of harm reduction and away from retribution. I do believe we have made a difference.
Sunday, 8 December
Sunderland
A feeding frenzy is developing over Cherie Blair’s use of a convicted conman – the boyfriend of her ‘lifestyle guru’ Carol Caplin – to help her buy two flats in a posh part of Bristol. Number 10 then dug the pit deeper by understating the boyfriend’s role in the affair, since when a set of e-mails have appeared suggesting his involvement in the transaction was rather greater than has so far been acknowledged. So far as anyone can see Cherie hasn’t actually done anything wrong, but she has been foolish.
Monday, 9 December
I came across Hilary Armstrong in the Tea Room, looking glum. No prizes for guessing why – the Cherie debacle. ‘It’s awful,’ she said.
‘Absolutely awful. They won’t let go.’ Having poured on the poison for several days the Harmsworth Lie Machine is now commissioning opinion polls to gauge the effect. A poll in yesterday’s Mail on Sunday reported that only 51 per cent of those asked believe that Tony Blair is honest – the lowest rating of any of the big three party leaders.
Tuesday, 10 December
Today’s instalment in the ‘Cheriegate’ saga alleges that she telephoned Peter Foster’s solicitors on 22 November which, if true, suggests she took a greater degree of interest in his deportation case than had hitherto been admitted. ‘The truth, the whole truth and anything but the truth,’ screeches today’s Daily Mail. ‘It stinks, Cherie,’ rages the Mirror.
‘If Cherie was a minister, she’d have been fired,’ proclaims the Sun. ‘I was quite sympathetic to Cherie until I heard about that call,’ remarked Clive Efford in the Tea Room. ‘We are all being damaged by the action of someone who isn’t accountable to us. Tony needs to understand the resentment this causes.’ He wanted me to pass on the message at the parliamentary committee tomorrow.
To the Attlee Room in Portcullis House to hear Noam Chomsky. He spoke softly, without notes, for 45 minutes, in a relaxed conversational style, dressed casually in a grey sweater and an open-necked shirt. In the main his message was predictable, but with some dry asides. The present Republican regime was ‘as hardline as you can get, within the realms of sanity’. They needed to keep the American people in a permanent state of fear in order to take their minds off the domestic agenda. War with Iraq was only a first step. The longer-term aim was to restore Anglo-US power across Iran and Saudi Arabia. There was no question of democracy being permitted in post-Saddam Iraq since two-thirds of the population were Shia and the US would not want to extend Shia influence – and by implication Iran’s. Also, any moderately democratic Iraqi government would want to control its resources and that would never be permitted. In the past, American policy makers had talked of the need for ‘an iron-fisted junta’ to control Iraq and this was a strong possibility. US culture, he said, was more fundamentalist than that in Iran. ‘The strength of Christian fundamentalism is such that anyone who wants to be president has to pretend to be a born-again Christian.’ Someone asked about the extent of Tony Blair’s influence on Bush and his court. ‘I don’t want to be offensive,’ replied Chomsky, ‘but it’s zero.’
This evening Cherie came out fighting. She used an appearance at a charity function in the Atrium at Millbank to try and draw a line under the events of the past week. She struck just the right tone: dignified, apologetic, wit
h just a hint of defiance. With any luck this will put an end to the nonsense.
Wednesday, 11 December
This morning’s media is dominated by Cherie’s speech last night. Most of the coverage is mildly sympathetic with the notable exceptions of the Mail and the Mirror. If anything, the Mirror is nastier than the Mail, devoting nine hate-filled pages to the subject. Cherie has obviously done something to upset the odious Piers Morgan. At questions, Duncan Smith made a feeble attempt to climb on the Cherie bandwagon, but was easily seen off. ‘Typical of the Right Honourable Gentleman to dive into the swimming pool after the water has run out’ was The Man’s magnificent parting shot. I detect the magic hand of Alastair.
Thursday, 12 December
My 55th birthday. The girls rang at 8 a.m. to wish me many happy returns. Emma sang while Sarah played the piano in the background.
Three US Congressmen, all Republicans, came to see me about drugs. The man from Georgia did all the talking. The tone of his questioning suggested he wanted nothing to do with any namby-pamby European nonsense about harm minimisation – controlled prescription, needle exchange and the like. ‘They tried needle exchange in Baltimore with the result that the problem was worse than ever. It was the same in Vancouver …’ I gently pointed out that collapsing the banana economies in the Caribbean in the name of free trade was only going to make the problem worse and that, if they wanted to stem the flow of heroin from Afghanistan, it would be an idea to engage in a little nation-building, but I am not sure that any of it registered. I walked out with them to St Stephen’s Entrance. Someone pointed out his car and the man from Georgia just walked away in mid-sentence without so much as a goodbye and got into the car without looking back.
A cup of tea with Tony Benn who I came across in the corridor outside the Library. Needless to say, he is supporting the firemen’s ludicrous wage claim. When I pressed him, he came out with all sorts of irrelevant, Socialist Worker-type guff about boardroom greed. ‘You would never have supported a claim 20 times the rate of inflation during any of the 11 years you were in the Cabinet,’ I said. He didn’t deny it. It was all very good-humoured. I love him dearly but he’s getting worse.
Friday, 13 December
Sunderland
I am becoming forgetful. This morning, going out of the front gate, I mistook a neighbour for the man who repaired our heating some time ago. He looked bemused when I asked about his back and whether his daughter had got a place at Oxford and then I realised my mistake. Later, walking back from the town, I passed the time of day with a woman I feel I should know well, but I can’t for the life of me put a name to her. Nothing serious, I hope. Grandma Mullin had Alzheimer’s.
Saturday, 14 December
We drove to Whitburn to buy a Christmas tree and Sarah and Emma spent the afternoon decorating it. In the evening Ngoc and I went to see The Quiet American. Wonderful. Gripping, realistic, faithful to the original. Michael Caine was excellent. Fifties Saigon brilliantly recreated. Apparently the American distributors had delayed its release for more than a year. And no wonder. It portrays the American government up to its neck in terrorism. Very inconvenient.
Monday, 16 December
To London for the second reading of Alun Michael’s hunting Bill. Arrived at Westminster to find the House surrounded by several thousand baying huntspersons, blowing whistles, firing rockets and being generally obnoxious. At the underground entrance our way was blocked by an oaf in a check cap, wearing a lapel badge which said ‘Bollocks to Blair’. He stood in the revolving door and refused to let us pass until we had told him which way we were intending to vote. It wasn’t until Andrew Bennett came along and physically removed him that we were able to get in. Later, we heard that the entrance from Parliament Square had been closed as a result of ‘a serious incident’. All in all, the police seemed to be treating the demonstrators lightly – although there were one or two arrests later. Goodness knows what would have happened if the miners had behaved like that.
During the division I had a chat with Michael Meacher, who says that the Environment department has had virtually no input into the recent announcement about spending more on roads and that Margaret has sent Alistair Darling a strong letter. He also says they had not been seriously consulted about the proposed changes to the planning regulations or on airport expansion. To cap it all, he says, there is even a debate about building more nuclear power stations even though nuclear power is more expensive than wave energy; it has generated 10,000 tons of waste (rising to 500,000 by the end of the century) that no one knows what to do with; not to mention that nuclear power stations are vulnerable to terrorist attack. ‘To be fair to Margaret, she has taken a stand.’
Tuesday, 17 December
A meeting with Frank Dobson and someone from Searchlight about the rise of the British National Party. They do best in places where the Tory vote has collapsed. They’ve started winning seats in Blackburn and Burnley and in the recent mayoral election in Stoke the BNP polled more votes than the Tories and Lib Dems combined. If things continue as they are, it can only be a question of time before Sunderland elects its first fascist. A Tory revival will put a stop to them and there is no sign of that.
Alan Milburn addressed the Northern Group of MPs. The polls, he said, showed absolute scepticism about the ability of the government to translate tax rises into improvements in services. As regards the NHS there was a discrepancy between the opinions of those who had recently used the service, 70 per cent of whom expressed satisfaction, and those who had no recent experience of the NHS, less than 50 per cent of whom thought the NHS was working. He ascribed the difference to the tabloid effect, especially the Mail, which, unhappily, was the paper most read by nurses. Alan concluded, ‘By the time we get to the election, the improvements have got to be so obvious that the public can see through the crap.’ Not a small ambition.
Wednesday, 18 December
A chat with Alan, who is decorating the hall and stairwell at Brixton Road. He lives on the 17th floor of a tower block on the Mile End Road which, he says, is plagued by drug addicts shooting up in the corridors and in the rubbish chutes. One of the flats was set on fire and people are scared to go out. He said millions had been spent regenerating a local park, but most people dared not walk there because it was plagued by addicts and dealers; so was the tube station. He was trying to get out of the block, but there was nowhere to go. Listening to Alan, a decent, hard-working man, it’s easy to see why people in traditional Labour strongholds are so disenchanted. The mayhem going on around them dominates their lives. If we can’t make the streets safer, no amount of tax credits or minimum income guarantees are going to make any difference.
At the parliamentary committee there was a brief discussion about Iraq. Helen Jackson said that military action would destabilise the region. The Man said it was up to Saddam to decide. If Saddam ends up being found with material that he says he hasn’t got, then he’s miscalculated. ‘I honestly can’t tell if there will be a war, but we are more likely to avoid it if we take a firm stand.’
Doug Hoyle said we were making too many enemies at once. He listed the various fronts – Iraq, Star Wars, top-up fees, trade unions … ‘The next six months will be tough,’ The Man replied lightly.
Gordon Prentice said, in that laidback way of his – which always contains a sting in the tail – ‘Tony, I’m hugely impressed that you can let it all wash over you. You just seem permanently relaxed.’
‘I’m a good actor.’
Gordon then asked whether we would go back to the Security Council before declaring war. The Man replied, ‘I think the Security Council will act, if it is plain that there has been a breach.’
‘We should scrutinise any US claims very carefully,’ I said, reminding him about yellow rain and the Gulf of Tonkin incident.* I added, ‘It isn’t just the Labour Party that’s sceptical. It’s the public.’
He nodded, but said nothing. The truth, as we all know, is that in the end we will sign up to
whatever George W. Bush and his cronies come out with.
Thursday, 19 December
I asked a question of Margaret Beckett about the impact of the aviation industry’s plans for indefinite expansion on the environment. It’s the third time I have raised the subject in the chamber in the last couple of weeks. I feel a little campaign coming on. I spent the afternoon drafting an article on the subject which I will offer either to the Evening Standard or to the Guardian.
Sunday, 22 December
Sunderland
With Sarah and Emma to distribute Christmas cards to neighbours. As usual we called on Violet and Andy Biggam, a brother and sister who have lived in the same house in The Oaks since 1918, having taken it over from an uncle who had been there since the 1890s; much of the furniture and fittings are unchanged. If you stand in the hall and close your eyes, all you can hear is the sound of ticking grandfather clocks.
Tuesday, 24 December
This evening we put out refreshment for Santa (an apple, a satsuma, a few crumbly bits of shortbread and a small glass of rum) on a table by the fireplace.
Wednesday, 25 December
Sure enough Santa turned up on schedule. The apple, satsuma and the shortbread were eaten, only the peel and crumbs remaining. Emma thought she detected Santa’s footprint in the ashes by the fireplace.
We opened our presents by the Christmas tree. Emma grudgingly kept a list of who had sent what. I did my best to look cheerful, but I find it a deeply depressing experience watching children who have everything piling up new possessions. Such a relief when it was over.
Sunday, 29 December
Chelmsford
Mum has recovered from her pneumonia and, though frail, is back to normal stubbornness. She is already talking of dispensing with the emergency alarm that, with some difficulty, we persuaded her to take after the most recent crisis.
