Behind Diplomatic Lines_Relations with Ministers
BEHIND
DIPLOMATIC LINES
RELATIONS WITH MINISTERS
An edited version of diaries recording the life of a Foreign Office Permanent Under-Secretary from 1986 to 1991.
PATRICK R. H. WRIGHT
CONTENTS
Title Page
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
Index
Copyright
1986
20 JUNE 1986
One week before taking over as Permanent Under-Secretary (PUS) from Sir Antony Acland, we were both invited to lunch with Mrs Thatcher. She opened the conversation by thrusting a newspaper cutting about Oliver Tambo in front of us, saying that it proved that we should not be talking to him (having agreed that morning that Lynda Chalker, a Minister of State in the Foreign Office, could meet him). She continued, both before and at lunch, to express her views about a return to pre-1910 South Africa, with a white mini-state partitioned from their neighbouring black states. When I argued that this would be seen as an extension of apartheid and homelands policy, she barked: ‘Do you have no concern for our strategic interests?’ I replied: ‘Of course, Prime Minister; but I don’t think this is the way to protect them.’
Otherwise, this was a very agreeable occasion, with the Prime Minister occasionally reverting to the topic of South Africa. She paid very warm tributes to Antony Acland, with the snide comment that his imagination and initiative were constantly being eroded by the unimaginative approach of the Foreign Office. She was also very complimentary about Charles Powell [now Lord Powell of Bayswater], whom she described as the best private secretary she had ever had (a compliment I had personally heard her pay to his two predecessors). One of them, Sir John Coles, later told me that, at his farewell dinner at No. 10, Margaret Thatcher had gone over the top in her compliments, glaring at his successor and saying: ‘Mr Powell is going to have an extremely difficult job succeeding you.’ Her devotion to her private secretaries was to cause me endless problems during the next five years, not unlike the problems that my predecessors had encountered during Sir Philip de Zulueta’s time as private secretary to Harold Macmillan. This prime ministerial reliance on their private secretaries ultimately made it impossible for de Zulueta, as it did for Charles Powell, to return to the diplomatic service.
On leaving No. 10, Antony and I bumped into the Foreign Secretary, Geoffrey Howe, who looked slightly put out that I had lunched with the Prime Minister before my first formal call on him. I therefore arranged to bring forward my call, the office having deliberately delayed it until I took over on 30 June.
24 JUNE 1986
I paid my first call on Geoffrey Howe, with only Tony Galsworthy (his private secretary) present. I talked about my impressions of the service, after an extensive tour of posts in Africa and the Far East, pointing out the financial strains on members of the service, particularly those abroad who, unlike their home civil service married colleagues, were unable, in those days, to benefit from double salaries. Geoffrey talked about his own impressions of the office, and his worries about staffing on Falkland Islands and other dependent territories questions. He also worried about one of his junior ministers, who he thought was much too ready to accept official advice without questioning it. No talk about the Prime Minister, though he was already having a very difficult time with her, particularly on South Africa, where their views were poles apart.
25 JUNE 1986
At a lunch with Robert Armstrong and Tom Brimelow (reminiscent of a lunch twelve years earlier, at which they had ‘vetted’ me for my job as Harold Wilson’s private secretary), Robert Armstrong described relations between the Prime Minister and the Foreign Office as worse than he could ever remember with any Prime Minister. When discussing her views about another Foreign Office official [whom Antony thought – as it turned out, wrongly – was a likely successor to myself], Robert replied: ‘All right, until 11 a.m.,’ explaining that the Prime Minister had emerged from Cabinet to see this official talking to the Foreign Secretary. In present circumstances, this was apparently enough to damn anyone.
Margaret Thatcher’s contemptuous opinions of the diplomatic service contrasted strongly with her complimentary views on almost every individual diplomat she met [sadly, not many, in view of the way in which the doors of No. 10 were fiercely guarded by her private secretary]. After almost every foreign trip she made, she appeared to be impressed by the head of mission (particularly if he was tall and good-looking), often complaining to me that so-and-so was ‘far too good for X; why is he not in Paris or Washington?’
Curiously, one of her reservations was beards. When a bearded colleague of mine started a Foreign Office job which was likely to involve close contact with No. 10, I warned him [would this be acceptable nowadays?] that it might be better, given Mrs Thatcher’s known prejudices, if he shaved it off. He replied that this put him in a dilemma between a Prime Minister who disliked beards, and a wife that liked them. But he shaved it off! Moustaches were also a problem. Of one moustached colleague, Margaret Thatcher is reported to have claimed: ‘The trouble is, he looks like a hairdresser.’
Sherard Cowper-Coles, the private secretary I was to inherit from Antony Acland, told me that he had heard from Tony Galsworthy that my initial talk with Geoffrey Howe had gone very well. [I did not record, at the time, an earlier talk I’d had with Geoffrey Howe soon after my return from Saudi Arabia.] Geoffrey said that there would, of course, be many things we would need to discuss, but he had one request to make. ‘We must’, he said, ‘try to slow the merry-go-round, and leave heads of mission longer in post.’ I replied that this was music to my ears. But I reminded him of two things: first, that he had pulled me out of Saudi Arabia after eighteen months to become his PUS; and second, that his request was pretty ripe, coming as it did from a member of a Cabinet that had had twelve secretaries of state for Trade and Industry in thirteen years.
27 JUNE 1986
Today I went through the Green Safe, skimming the files, including several dating back to my days as private secretary to Sir Paul Gore-Booth in the mid-1960s. One of these concerned an Iraqi Prince, Prince Sami, who claimed a payment from the secret fund, on the grounds that he had been deprived of his inheritance by the Iraq Petroleum Company. He had once turned up at the Foreign Office with his entire family and threatened my predecessor, Nicholas Gordon Lennox, that he would camp on the premises until he was paid. My own earlier contact with Prince Sami had been in Washington where, as private secretary to the ambassador, I was instructed by Douglas Hurd [then private secretary to the PUS] to deliver a message to Prince Sami in a particularly expensive Washington hotel, telling him that he would receive no more payments.
The lead story in the Evening Standard today was of a serious split between Geoffrey Howe and Margaret Thatcher, including an alleged (and accurate) quote of her saying in Cabinet, on the topic of his mission to Africa: ‘If you feel like that, perhaps you had better stay at home.’ I was told last night that Geoffrey, in fact, minds these attacks much more than he shows. I discussed with Antony and Sherard last night whether, like Antony, I was going to be faced with a Foreign Secretary resigning in my first week as PUS (Lord Carrington having resigned over the Falklands on Michael Palliser’s last day before Antony succeeded him as PUS). Sherard thought that Geoffrey loved the job (and Chevening) much too much. Antony commented that you wouldn’t know it, and he thought that the office would be astonished to be told it.
I called on Janet Young, the FCO minister in the House of Lords, who became a good friend, but who sadly did not
enjoy Geoffrey’s confidence (as he made abundantly clear during a large office meeting on the Turks and Caicos Islands). The trouble is that Geoffrey tends to reflect his own uncertainty over taking decisions by looking for faults in others.
2 JULY 1986
I called on Lynda Chalker, who confessed to having had a crisis of confidence. She obviously regards herself as a non-intellectual, surrounded by brilliant officials who all quote Latin at her. I reminded her that by far the most popular and most successful Foreign Secretary since the war had been Ernie Bevin, who had commented on a marginal reference to the phrase ‘mutatis mutandis’: ‘Please do not write in Greek; I have never learned it.’
3 JULY 1986
This morning was the first of many presentations of credentials, for which I wore full diplomatic uniform. [There is a picture of me, accompanying the credentials ceremony for the United States ambassador, Ray Seitz, in 1991 on the back of his book Over Here, with the comment, in the text itself, that I was ‘immaculate in [my] dark-blue diplomatic uniform and cradling a great plumed hat across [my] front like a pet ostrich’. Simon McDonald later sent me a Christmas card showing himself in diplomatic uniform, with a picture on the back of me in an identical pose.]
On this occasion, the talk with the Queen was mainly about whether the German von Weizsäcker had used the English words ‘common sense’ in his speech at the German state banquet on the previous evening out of politeness, or because there was no German word for it. Von Weizsäcker’s speech-writer had told me that the Germans normally used the English words, and he did not think there was a German equivalent. This recalls Harold Nicolson’s claim, which I was frequently to quote in my talks on diplomacy, that common sense was perhaps the most important qualification for a diplomat.
At the later banquet, [my wife] Virginia and I talked to Lord Hailsham, who denied that he kept a diary. He claimed that Barbara Castle had dictated her diaries immediately after the event, with subsequent re-editing two weeks later. Tony Benn’s fairly blatant keeping of diaries during Cabinet meetings once provoked Denis Healey into cutting short a presentation to Cabinet with the words: ‘Tony, am I speaking too fast for you?’
I attended a meeting with Geoffrey Howe this afternoon on South Africa, in the face of indications that P. W. Botha may not see him on his first visit, which would look very bad. Geoffrey realises what a viper’s nest he is walking into.
5 & 6 JULY 1986
Virginia and I were invited to spend the weekend with the Howes at Chevening [which they adored, and which caused them more regrets than almost anything else when Geoffrey was kicked upstairs to be Deputy Prime Minister]. Other guests included the opera singer Geraint Evans and his wife Brenda. After dinner on the Saturday evening, there was a sing-song, for which I was invited to play the piano. Geraint, who had apparently sworn that, in retirement, he would never sing again, retreated to the window looking out over the garden. But the sound of a succession of songs from The Scout’s Song Book through to Irish Ballads and The Messiah was too much for him. [Happily, I still have a photograph of me accompanying Geraint, with Geoffrey Howe almost sitting on my lap, and with everyone else ranged around the piano.]
Next morning, Geoffrey and I retired to work on his box. The omens for his South African visit were not looking good, and he was coming to the conclusion that we might have to change our policy on sanctions. The Prime Minister would be very difficult indeed, and he was facing his next bilateral with her tomorrow.
The Sunday Telegraph carried headline stories today – so far as I could see, without any justification – that Geoffrey might be considering resignation. He discussed with me the idea of holding a meeting this evening, but decided against it. The trouble is that, for domestic political reasons, the government has felt bound to present a more optimistic picture of the prospects of moving P. W. Botha than is remotely justified.
8 JULY 1986
An early start today, with an 8 a.m. meeting on Southern Africa. Geoffrey Howe decided that he should go ahead with his planned visits to Zambia and Zimbabwe, in the face of P. W. Botha’s refusal to see him until later in the month. I wrote him a personal letter to thank him for the Chevening weekend, and expressing the hope and confidence that the story in the Sunday Telegraph about his resignation was completely unfounded.
At 11 a.m., I attended a meeting in Lady Young’s office to discuss her parliamentary questions in the Lords, with all parliamentary private secretaries (PPSs) present. It is quite a challenge for Lords ministers to face a wide variety of questions, and I once heard a former Secretary of State claim that he found questions in the Lords much more demanding than those he had faced in the Commons, because questions in the Lords usually came from peers who had deep knowledge and experience of the subject.
On the other hand, there is the probably apocryphal story that Lord Goronwy-Roberts, when the Lords minister, received a brief which ended with the words: ‘This is not a very good reply, but it should do for the House of Lords’ – and he read it out.
8 JULY 1986
I called this morning on Tim Eggar, the parliamentary under-secretary described in the parliamentary guide as ‘very right wing, and a Labour basher’ – a rather macho character, who obviously feels, like most junior ministers, excluded from decision-making. [He later developed a strong interest in diplomatic car parking and non-payment of parking fines, adopting it as almost a personal crusade.]
At dinner this evening, Lord Chalfont was quoted as comparing the Foreign & Commonwealth Office’s (FCO) relationship with its junior ministers to that of an oyster and a piece of sand: a source of constant irritation, and only likely in the rarest instances to produce a pearl.
[My memory of leak procedures during my time as deputy under-secretary (DUS), when Lord Chalfont was a Foreign Office minister, having previously been the defence correspondent on The Times, was that the inquiry nearly always ended with the conclusion that Chalfont himself was almost certainly the source, but never proceeded with. I once told him this many years later, when we were colleagues on the cross benches of the House of Lords.]
9 JULY 1986
Ghana today pulled out of the Commonwealth Games, with an offensive démarche in Accra, followed by Nigeria. I spoke to Sonny Ramphal, and asked him to do what he could to stop the rot. I attended a large office meeting with Lynda Chalker to agree instructions to Commonwealth posts.
I had a meeting with Robert Armstrong to discuss office buildings. The Prime Minister has revealed a clear, and predictable, prejudice against the FCO and Overseas Development Administration (ODA), and is trying to block the ODA’s agreed move to Richmond Yard, to which everyone thought she had agreed a long time ago, but which she now denies. Her prejudice against the FCO building in Downing Street is alleged once to have provoked her complaint that the FCO blocked all the sunshine from No. 10.
I dined at the American embassy to meet Bill Casey of the CIA, after a cock-up which implied that the dinner was at Grosvenor Square. After I had dismissed the car, I had to take a taxi to Winfield House. Casey seemed a bit more intelligible than usual; on a previous call on Geoffrey Howe, during my time as DUS for Defence and Intelligence, we had to ask the American embassy to tell us what he had said; they agreed to an exchange of draft records, if only because they had found the usual difficulty of hearing Geoffrey Howe. It was said of Casey that he had for so long been involved in intelligence that he had learned to speak in cipher. I thought it an interesting, and sad, reflection on the UK–USA intelligence relationship that two of Casey’s aides cut the dinner for a German function; and that Casey himself described his visit here as ‘en route to Bonn’.
10 JULY 1986
Robert Armstrong called on me this afternoon – a rare occasion nowadays for the Cabinet Secretary to call on the Foreign Office – to discuss the problem of ministers calling in foreign diplomats without telling the FCO, as Tom King had just done. I had been involved in a slightly different problem during the Falklands War, when the
Air Force in the Ministry of Defence had made covert contacts with the air attaché in the Chilean embassy, without informing us. I later received an apologetic visit from the head of Defence Intelligence, Lieutenant General Sir Maurice Johnston (an Old Wellingtonian who had been in my father’s house, and who later turned up as a fellow officer with me in the 40th Field Artillery in Dortmund, before defecting from the Gunners to a smarter regiment, the Queen’s Bays).
As for Cabinet Secretary calls, I recall that during my time as private secretary to Paul Gore-Booth, he and Sir Burke Trend regularly exchanged calls – one of which must have provoked Trend’s private secretary, William Reid, to initiate a practice of exchanging doggerel with me – Reid and Wright – a practice which has continued in our retirement. [A recent exchange referred to my exclusion from the Times’s birthday list on my eighty-fourth birthday.] Simon McDonald (who was private secretary to both David Gillmore and John Coles) has confirmed to me that the then Cabinet Secretary never called on the PUS – though my last private secretary, Tim Simmons, apparently insisted on the PUS being put through on the telephone at the same time as Robin Butler, on the grounds that while one was head of the civil service, the PUS was his equivalent as head of the diplomatic service.
A group of Conservative MPs visited the office today for a presentation on the diplomatic service over a sandwich lunch, one of a very successful series which has done something to improve the office’s relationship with Parliament.