The expression on his face told me at once that I should have been slightly more equivocal. So I indicated that I had merely meant that I was not wholly against reforming local government. As his expression remained the same I felt it wise to add that I could see that there might be many convincing, indeed one might say conclusive, arguments against reform. I was grateful that he didnt ask me to specify those arguments because, to be quite honest, I didnt see what they could be. More fool me!
Humphrey, of course, had thought it through in his customary meticulous fashion. He explained that if we once create genuinely democratic local communities, it wont stop there. Once they were organised, such communities would insist on more powers, which the politicians will be too frightened to withhold.
The inevitable result would be Regional Government.
This, as every Whitehall chap fully understands, would be very bad news! Let me give you an example: if there is some vacant land in, say, Nottingham, and there are rival proposals for its use -- a hospital or an airport, for instance -- our modus operandi is to set up an interdepartmental committee. Thats what we have always done and its what we always shall do.
This Committee creates months of fruitful work as all the interested Departments liaise: the Department of Health, the Department of Education, the Department of Transport, the Treasury, Environment, and so forth. We all have to see the papers, hold meetings, propose, discuss, revise, report back, and redraft. Its the normal thing.
And why? Because it generally results in mature and responsible conclusion. But if we had regional government they would decide the whole thing, themselves, in Nottingham. Probably in three or four meetings? How? Because theyre amateurs.
You might argue -- as I did, that day with Humphrey -- that, as its their city, they should have that right. But I was wrong, and so would you be, for the following reasons:
First: they cant be trusted to know whats right.
Second: there would be so much less work to do in Whitehall that Ministers could almost do it on their own. Therefore we, the Civil Service, would have much less power.
Third: theres nothing wrong with the Civil Service having less power per se. Indeed, I personally have always shunned power. [We remind readers that when Sir Bernard retired he was Head of the Home Civil Service Ed.] But the unfortunate corollary of the Civil Service having less power is that the wrong people get more power.
Once Sir Humphrey explained this to me, I quickly saw the error of my ways. At the top of his list of wrong people with power were politicians, local and national.
At first I thought Id found a flaw in his argument: since the politicians are put there by ordinary voters, I couldnt see how they could be the wrong people. Surely, in a democracy, power ought to be vested in the voters?
Sir Humphrey put me right. This is a British democracy, Bernard. It is different. British democracy recognises that you need a system to protect the important things and keep them out of the hands of the barbarians. Things like the arts, the countryside, the law, and the universities -- both of them. And we are that system.
He was right, of course. We, the Civil Service, run a civilised meritocracy, a smoothly-running government machine tempered only by occasional general elections. Ever since 1832 we have been gradually excluding the voters from government. Now we have got to the point where they vote just once every four or five years purely on which bunch of buffoons will try to interfere with our policies.
And I had been happy to see all that thrown away. As Sir Humphrey talked I flushed pink with embarrassment, and hung my head in shame.
Do you want the Lake District turned into a gigantic caravan site? he asked me. You want to make the Royal Opera House a Bingo Hall and the National Theatre into a carpet sale warehouse?
It looks like one, actually, I replied defensively.
Humphrey was pained. We gave the architect a knighthood so that no one would ever say that. I bit my lip. Do you want Radio 3 to broadcast pop music for twenty-four hours a day? And how would you feel if they took all the culture programmes off television?
I tried to defend myself. I dont know. I never watch them.
Nor do I, said Humphrey. But its vital to know that theyre there.
Our meeting ended. But I was still confused by one thing. To my certain knowledge Jim Hacker, both before he became Prime Minister and ever since, had always said that he wanted to reform the Civil Service.
Since he was the duly elected, democratically appointed Prime Minister [depending on your definition of democracy, see Party Games Ed.], I felt that whether or not we had a duty to reform local government, we certainly had a duty to reform the Civil Service. And if local government reform inevitably led to regional government, and therefore civil service reform, perhaps it was our duty to help.
I subsequently plucked up courage and wrote this in a letter to Sir Humphrey. He later told me that he had shredded it. I believe he did so out of kindness, in the knowledge that if my letter had remained on file and ever been seen again it would have fatally damaged any chance I had of reaching the dizzy heights of Permanent Secretary. I shall always be grateful to him for his generosity and foresight.
But I did keep Sir Humphreys handwritten reply to me [handwritten, so that there would be no copy in the office Ed.] which you may reprint if you wish.
[Naturally we accepted Sir Bernards kind offer, and we transcribe this rare personal letter from Sir Humphrey below Ed.]
Cabinet Office
Nov 12th
My Dear Bernard,
Whether or not the Prime Minister has said that he wants to reform the Civil Service is completely beside the point. No matter what he has said, it is not what he really wants.
So, you may ask, what does he really want? A better Britain? Yes. Better weather? That too. But what is the main objective of all politicians, what is it that obsesses them, day and night, for the whole of their lives? Popularity! Popularity, fame, publicity, their pictures on television, their voices on the radio, their photos in the newspapers. And why? Not just because it gives them a warm glow. Champagne gives them a warm glow, but theyre not obsessed with it.
No, the answer is that popularity is essential to them because they want to be re-elected. Government is fame and glory and importance and big offices and chauffeurs and being interviewed by Terry Wogan. Opposition is impotence and insignificance and people at parties asking you if you know Sir Robin Day.
Therefore, the only real job of a government is to get re-elected. And since constituencies of 60,000 voters are far too big for people to know their MP, the electors make up their minds on the basis of television and radio and the press. And then they vote for any idiot that a few dozen people in the constituency chose as their candidate.
In other words, a politician does not really represent the electors. His job is public performance and image-building and generally being famous and popular.
So now we must ask: what do the politicians REALLY want from the Civil Service?
1. Publicity. They want publicity for all the good things theyve done (or think theyve done). This is why we have over one thousand press officers in Whitehall. And why we spend so many hours helping them with speeches, articles and photo opportunities.
2. Secrecy. They want secrecy about anything that could be used against them. This is why we have the Official Secrets Act. And why we classify every document from the Trident missile specification to the tea ladies rota.
3. Words. They want us to help perpetuate the myth that they were elected democratically. This is why we help them write scripts for various charades, such as parliamentary debates. And we also write papers for Cabinet, so that the Prime Minister can update his colleagues on things that they have missed in the newspapers.