Later when we returned to the question of unemployment, we obtained agreement from Michael Howard, to fund some research by Trent Polytechnic into the pepper pot effect of unemployment within the City, which showed one percent in some areas, and 40 percent in others. Sadly when the report was completed, we had to face the fact that in one or two areas of very high unemployment, far too many were simply unemployable, and that situation is still with us twenty five years on.
After the 1987 election, I went with John Patten, then Minister of State, to the Home Office. Douglas Hurd was Home Secretary, and was faced with a two part report, resulting from a case in Scotland, that had been commissioned to examine apparent War Crimes committed abroad by people now resident as citizens, or having been granted the right to remain, in the United Kingdom. The report by Sir Thomas Hetherington and William Chalmers was in two parts. The first part set out, without names, the broad picture of what was being alleged, and the second was confidential to just the very top Cabinet Ministers, being evidence that might be used should any person subsequently be charged, and therefore would have been prejudicial if made public. Their main recommendation was very clear, that “legislation should be introduced to give British Courts jurisdiction over acts of murder and manslaughter committed as war crimes, in Germany or German occupied territory during the period of the Second World War by persons who are now British citizens or resident in the United Kingdom”. Douglas’s comment was, and was repeated on the floor of the chamber, that having read the evidence collected, he could do no other than bring a Bill to the House. Many sought to argue that The War Crimes Bill would either be retrospective legislation, or that witnesses would be too old to be credible. Before the Bill started its journey, Douglas moved to the Foreign Office, and David Waddington became Home Secretary. I was honoured to be asked to move up and be his PPS, and I went with John Patten’s blessing, and as a result sat with David throughout the passage of the Bill. There were some excellent speeches from many members, some who had good cause to see that at last justice would be done, and some who were shameful in the dismissive manner in which they sought to oppose. Those who argued that it was retrospective, would not accept that all the Bill sought to do, was to grant jurisdiction to British Courts, to address crimes that would have been crimes under British Law at that time they were committed, and would have been juridical had they been committed by a person subject to British Law. It was not seeking to make criminal an act that would not have been criminal at that time.
Many of the names somehow entered the public domain, and I found to my horror that I had one such suspect in my constituency. I was approached by the local press to obtain my opinion, and I arranged to visit a Mr Derzinskas, a man now in his seventies, who agreed to see me, and allow a journalist to be present. He was Lithuanian, agreed he was who it was alleged he was, agreed he lived in the village named, agreed that the Jewish women were taken away, to where he knew not, and that the men and boys were lined up and shot. He said he was there at the time, but he hadn’t been involved. When we left, I asked the journalist what he thought. Frankly he said he was guilty out of his own mouth, but I said I was sure that the editor would not allow him to write it up, and that proved to be the case. Personally I felt sick, yet I also knew that if he wasn’t charged, then for the rest of his days he would be waiting for the knock on the door, a knock that had terrified millions of Jews and other minorities, during the reign of Nazi Germany.
I expressed my view to David Waddington, that whether anyone would ultimately face trial, was almost irrelevant, but the Bill was important for if the British Parliament simply shut it’s eyes to the horrors and did nothing, we would not be able to hold up our heads again. We also recognised that if the Bill left the commons with only a small majority, their Lordships might throw it out, but as it turned out, it was carried by a massive majority, and a credit to our sense of justice.
I had approached Greville Janner, who was a member of the Jewish Board of Guardians and he had agreed not to speak during the earlier stages of the Bill, persuaded on the grounds that we did not want this to be just a Bill about the Jewish Holocaust, but to cover all the atrocities committed during WW11. He however felt duly bound to speak on the Third Reading, and during his speech he referred to the fact that he had lost half his family in the Holocaust. Neil Hamilton sitting just a few feet from me, remarked loudly “The wrong half”. Greville didn’t hear, which was just as well, and he carried on. Because Hamilton had made his remarks from a seated position, Hansard was not obliged to record his outrageous comment, and did not do so. A couple of weeks later, Mark Lennox-Boyd who was Mrs Ts PPS approached me and indicated that she had received a letter from a constituent to whom Hamilton’s remarks had been reported, and would she enquire if it was true, and what action might be taken. Mark wanted to know if I had heard it, and I confirmed I had, since I had been in the Chamber throughout the debate, as had David Waddington. “Oh gosh I can’t just tell her that, can you confirm it with any others”? I agreed to seek out a few members who had been in the Chamber on our side at the time, and duly reported back, confirming my original statement. “Oh dear,” he said, “How am I going to tell her.” I simply said this is up to you, but better she knows the truth, than the matter is ignored and might surface again in the future. Whether Mark told her, I don’t know, but it confirmed my worse fears that we were reaching the point where members only told the PM what they felt she wanted to hear. Sadly that’s a problem facing all long term Prime Ministers, and probably contributed to her sad downfall.
As expected there was considerable opposition in the Lords, again on grounds of retrospective legislation, but also on the grounds of credibility of witnesses. Even with the Bill making clear that the rules of evidence and procedures were absolutely in accord with current legal practice, there were still those who objected, and their reasons were a matter for their consciences. Standing at the bar of their House during the debate, I did not know whether to laugh or cry at the sight of a peer in his mid nineties, arguing that witnesses would be too old to be credible!
The Hong Kong dilemma surfaced and was addressed in the British Nationality (Hong Kong ) Act in 1990 when Douglas was Home Secretary, and the House accepted that whilst most Hong Kong citizens held British Dependent Territory Citizen Passports, they did not cover full citizenship and therefore no right to come to and reside in the UK. These passports at least gave such holders, a document that allowed them to travel anywhere in the world. The view was taken that it would be impossible to issue a possible 3.25 million passports to these holders, even if most would not seek to exercise that right of settlement. A figure, however arrived at, was chosen at fifty thousand, which it was believed would certainly cover all priority persons. As ever, since they did not have to make these difficult decisions and enjoyed the freedom of being in opposition, the Lib/Dem leader Paddy Ashdown demanded unsuccessfully, we grant passports to all residents in Hong Kong.
For whatever reason, since I was PPS in the office and with Home Office approval, I accepted an invitation from the Hong Kong Government to visit the dependency, and test the water so to speak. I was offered first class travel and accommodation, but if I wished to take Sally, would I accept business class? Avoiding the expected handbag, I accepted on behalf of us both! We met the Governor and various groups of lawyers and journalists, and whilst these interest groups where not shy in special pleading, I had to make clear, that whilst I could note their concerns and ensure that all views were reported back to the Home Secretary, as a humble PPS I was only the messenger, On one session, there were so many journalists wanting an interview, that Sally had to line them up in a queue outside our hotel room, and as it turned out, I avoided putting my inexperienced foot in it, and completed my task without mishap. We were treated to one very special treat, a helicopter flight over Hong Kong and the territories, and the dive back over the racecourse was quite spectacular.
Being in the Home Office had it's downsides as we
ll being a fascinating experience, for we began to get threats from an IRA cell in Mansfield - North Nottinghamshire - and my concern was for my family. Of all the issues I had been involved in, I had promised never to be involved in Irish affairs, but non the less it meant we had to install all night security lighting around the house. We went out one Saturday night at about 7.30, returning at around 11, and Sally noticed a parcel pressed into the corner of our front door. It had not been there when we left, and there were no visible labels on the top and two sides that were visible. Sally insisted we called the police, who having inspected, could not discern any sender and decided to call out the bomb squad. Around 2.30am the army arrived with a special van, and a robot bomb disposal machine. We had to get our neighbours out of bed, and the small crowd gathered around the van and on a small TV watched the robot slowly crawl up our garden path, to face the brown paper wrapped parcel. Having inspected the parcel through the TV the officer in charge decided he would have to blow it up. The robot gun used something like a champagne plastic cork and compressed water, and the parcel exploded. We had just had the front door revarnished, and the contents of the parcel which turned out to be leaflets from the Department of the Environment, became a shower of confetti which stuck in tiny bits all over the door. It was a small price to pay for our safety, and our neighbours had a great night out !
My most enjoyable task was as a member of the Transport Bill in 1985 under Sir David Mitchell the minister of state at the department of transport. Fundamentally the Bill deregulated the operation of buses, and was the logical extension to the deregulation of the long distance coaches some few years earlier. For me, this was meat and two veg, applying practical common sense rather than politics, but of course Labour opposed it tooth and nail. Our City transport in Nottingham was a case in point, for it was run by Councillors, in the interest of Councillors in so far as if they wanted a bus to run down such and such a street, it would do so irrespective of any sensible justification. It ran at an ever increasing loss, and whilst most of the buses were old, Labour sought to argue that there would then be little or no new investment, and that it would be only a matter of time when there would be a terrible accident with a steering wheel coming away in a driver’s hand.
I got myself onto the standing committee dealing with the Bill, and was proud to be told by David Mitchell that I probably knew more about the Bill than any other member, and had to take one of his consultation meetings for him. Our County Council also opposed the bill, arguing that they would lose all their rural services. As it happens, when all the commercial bids were in, and the “socially desirable” routes went out to tender, the County found that all their existing routes were covered and that they had a saving of half a million pounds. There were many who opposed it out of political prejudice, and some out of total ignorance. One non-constituent who wrote to me complaining that living in the country they did not have a bus or any other public transport, and the Bus Bill would be a disaster for her. I had to reply that if she didn’t have a bus now, I could not see how the bus Bill could possible make matters worse.
The system was also unfair on our senior citizens, for there were differing schemes of concessionary fares in the Districts around and within the City. Where there was more than one provider on a route, only the City Transport would offer concession rides to City OAPs and only within the City. It meant that a senior citizen had to wait at a stop until a City Transport bus came by, so that he or she could use their pass, but if you did not live in the city you might have to pay if their District did not have some sort of arrangement with the City. I put down an amendment in committee, seeking to give all senior citizens living in the area covered by the transport arrangements, equal rights, and that any operator in that area, had to offer those same agreed concessions I am no legal draughtsman, and was asked that if I would withdraw my amendment, the Minister promised that a clause to meet my aim would be tabled at the report stage. I was justly proud, when the Secretary of State Nicholas Ridley rose to propose what he called the Brandon-Bravo clauses to give our senior citizens exactly what I had wanted. I don’t claim it has all been sweetness and light ever since, for with an ageing population the cost of this provision is bearing hard on Local Authorities, but I still believe it was, and is, the right thing to have done.
As much as I enjoyed the jousting in the Chamber, I enjoyed my constituency work even more. As soon as I was elected, I bought an old caravan, cleaned it up, had a large banner displaying my constituency, who I was, and set up “surgery” each Friday afternoon or Saturday morning in the various shopping centres throughout the constituency. If I’d any doubts as to the worth whileness of the exercise, they were dispelled when I heard a passing resident say “The Labour Member never did this”. I gave priority to those who had arranged an appointment, but set out a row of chairs outside the caravan, and if folks were prepared to wait, I’d see them. It certainly made the effort worth while.
In the winter I used the various libraries, and one winter occasion illustrated that you can never take a voter for granted. A probation officer asked if I would see a constituent who had foolishly wound his gas meter the wrong way, and was faced with a bill he couldn’t pay. Whilst pointing out that it was a criminal act, I would still see him. He turned out to be a giant Rasta, who turned up in a most aggressive mood. I was pretty sharp with him, and using a short well known expletive, told him if he wanted my help, to stop mouthing off, and sit down and tell me what had happened. I can’t recall what I did to help, but many months later at the 1987 election I was at a temporary polling station in one of my least favoured areas. I stepped back from the presiding officer as two Rastas came in to vote. The smallest voted and left, but the larger guy, having voted, turned and wished my luck. Stepping outside the hut, Sally was sitting in the car and lighting the smaller Rasta’s cigarette, when the big guy said hey, don’t you realise you’ve just voted for Mr Brandon-Bravo ! It was only two votes, but who would have expected they would be for a Conservative. Some time later we realised, that they must have been friends of the meter winder, and knew I wasn’t such a bad guy after all.
If you’re a good boy you get to go on a few really good freebies ! In fairness these are essential if a member is to have a broad understanding of both Home and Foreign Affairs. I was privileged to join a defence group down to the Falklands in 1984, where the Labour Member for Coventry laid a wreath over the sunken wreck of that destroyer, and our group leader Carol Mather, who had been a colonel in the Welsh Guards which had fought valiantly there during the war, also went to pay respects to those who had fallen. The Ghurkhas were in resident at the time, various regiments having six months tours of duty there, and they held a small reception for us. Whilst chatting away, I was offered a drink and asked for a scotch. Whilst my back was turned a scotch, and I mean a large scotch, had been poured, and I had to keep a straight face as I consumed it. They are great little people, but watch out when they pour the drinks !
On West Falklands we met a farmer who looked after some 32000 acres with just 32000 sheep grazing. That was a measure of just how poor the land is, but it was a living for him and his family, wife, daughter and one farmhand. His hobby was as a radio ham, which came in very handy during the war. He had a tall triangular metal radio mast, which came into use as soon as he spotted Argie planes coming over West Falklands when our troops were landing and defending Falkland Sound. His message went via Ascension Island to the War Cabinet, and back down to the Sound, giving our troops a few moments to prepare for the attack. He could not understand why the Argies just flew over his farm, without seeking to take out the mast. He had only been to Stanley a few times, and his daughter had only been to Stanley once, but she didn’t like it, it was too noisy ! Stanley at that time had just over 600 residents, and the only hotel was the famous Upland Goose, and I wonder what her reaction would be if she came for a visit to London.
I had two other defence department trips to Belize, and saw the excellent job per
formed by our troops there, and the unique training facilities Belize afforded. Their one big problem was the climate, for it had the unique ability to rot through the steelwork of military vehicles in incredibly short order. It’s a tiny multicultural country, where all groups seem to live happily together, and indeed there were five different ethnic groups represented in the six parliamentarians who entertained us out on the quays. The troop’s R and R was out on the quays and we were taken out in one of those helicopters like a fly’s eye where you can look down between your feet and scan the shallows below. The sergeant in charge, asked that I didn’t report back, since he had been there many tours longer than expected, and that it was the best posting he’d ever had, and he hoped he had been forgotten. Burnt brown as a berry, and clearly as fit as a fiddle, I could see why he wanted to keep his head down. There was a road to the Guatemalan border, and manned by a British guard force. From the opposite side a road had been built right up to the border, on the basis that given the Guatemalan claim on Belize, it would one day allow them to complete the road to the Atlantic coast. We did go across the border, for on our side was a map of central America showing Belize and Guatemala, but from the other side the map showed no Belize and Guatemala stretching from the Pacific to the Atlantic coasts.
We flew by chopper to the south of the country where the landing pad was so small, that they dare not turn off the engine whilst we disembarqued, in case for whatever reason they might be unable to restart the engines. They flew off, and rejoined us some hour or so later. The site overlooked the river that was the only outlet to the Atlantic from Guatemala, and hence of strategic interest to both countries. We flew on to a settlement in the jungle where a community of very small – not exactly pigmies – lived, and the excitement particularly of the children, was quite heart warming. We brought the gift of some footballs, and we could not have chosen better.
Rowing Against the Tide - A career in sport and politics Page 13
