Tessa Jowell’s friends think it unlucky that her career dangles by a thread just because her husband David Mills (from whom she is now separating) received monies of which she knew nothing. Bad luck does not come into it. Vigorous spinning by her friends before the cabinet secretary, Sir Gus O’Donnell, had released his letter about her case gave the impression he had cleared her of wrongdoing. The spin infuriated O’Donnell, whose letter did no more than make clear that the ministerial code has no teeth. Her innocence was pronounced not by the cabinet secretary but by the man with the largest vested interest: the prime minister.
Tony Blair knew that O’Donnell had no authority to probe deeply. Provided that Jowell pleaded ignorance of her husband’s large gift of money, which otherwise she would have been bound to declare, the cabinet secretary had to accept her account. All he could do was record lamely that Mills should have informed her. Blair has used O’Donnell’s report to give an impression of independent scrutiny where none has occurred.
The rule that ministers should declare their spouses’ interests (a duty that is mirrored in what is expected of company directors) exists because transferring money to a spouse would be an obvious way to flout the proper restrictions that apply to holders of public office. If you occupy a position of trust you must surrender some of your spouse’s privacy. Blair should accept that trade-off, having promised that his government would be whiter than white.
In a letter to his accountant written in February 2004 Mills commented: “I regarded the payment as a gift. What else could it be? I wasn’t employed, I wasn’t acting for them, I wasn’t doing anything for them, I had already given my evidence . . .” If he believed it to be a gift, his wife had a duty to declare it. As a lawyer he was in a good position to understand that.
The couple’s decision to part might suggest that she did not know about the gift. In truth, whether she knew its source or not is a red herring. She should be assumed to have known, because otherwise the essential rule about declaring the partner’s interests is unenforceable. If she was truly in the dark about it, that is indeed her misfortune. Her resignation — even if “unfair” — is the price that ought to be paid in a government that is white and seen to be white. O’Donnell should have so advised Blair. The point of principle is certainly important enough for the head of the civil service to threaten to quit.
Last week one of O’Donnell’s predecessors, Lord Butler of Brockwell, described parliament as “supine” before the executive. The adjective applies equally to successive cabinet secretaries who have allowed this prime minister to subvert the ministerial code and debauch the independence of the civil service. The clearest example of the latter was the government’s abuse of intelligence in the build-up to the Iraq war. It was the same Lord Butler who, after he had retired from the civil service, produced a report on that abuse which allowed Blair to survive in office.
In normal circumstances the relationship between ministers and civil servants depends upon mutual deference. Politicians and mandarins should be like two dowager aunts politely refusing to pass through a door before the other has done so. The administration should be respectful of officials’ political neutrality and should revere the time-hallowed procedures that must be independent of politicians if they are to inspire confidence in the integrity of government. The civil servants should shyly withdraw when matters turn political, even though many of them are more skilful operators than their masters.
New Labour despises such niceties. It loutishly uses its elbows to get its way. The civil service has reacted like a genteel old lady, lamenting the passing of manners, but unable to affect the brash ways of the young.
Officials were caught off guard in Labour’s early days. As the government legislated on freedom of information and enshrined in law the European convention on human rights, civil servants may have believed that a more transparent age had dawned. If so they were naive.
Blair has shown a consistent contempt for the ministerial code. Before Peter Mandelson’s first and second resignations from the cabinet and also prior to each of David Blunkett’s, Blair declared the minister had done no wrong. Each was invited back into office, and Mandelson was given a third chance in Brussels.
In the second Blunkett case O’Donnell made plain his view that the code had been broken. At last officials were fighting back, taking advantage of a weakened prime minister. The cabinet secretary’s letter about Jowell continues the struggle. It is telling, despite being written with mandarin subtlety. He emphasises that he has no right to investigate ministers or to give a verdict (contrary to what Blair suggests). Ministers are responsible for their own conduct and for justifying their actions to parliament (note, not to the prime minister).
It is true that parliament, like officialdom, has lain down in front of the Labour steamroller. Elizabeth Filkin, the then parliamentary commissioner for standards, upheld a complaint against John Reid for paying his son from public funds as a full-time researcher when he was in fact working for Labour. She also criticised John Prescott for not declaring a flat supplied to him at low rent by a trade union. MPs failed to condemn those faults. She resigned.
Assuming that O’Donnell does not resign, his next move should be to investigate the conduct of the Home Office during the Mills case. The Italian prosecuting authorities (who allege that Mills’s payment was a bribe for evidence given in Silvio Berlusconi’s trial) complain that the Home Office prejudiced their work by supplying information not to them but to the Italian government, headed of course by Berlusconi. Presumably a matter of such political sensitivity was handled by a senior British official to ensure absolute propriety. The cabinet secretary should clear up what happened. He does not need politicians’ permission to do that.
Those who now want Jowell to resign are Labour rebels who believe that one more scalping could mortally wound the prime minister and usher Gordon Brown into No 10. Tories and Liberal Democrats are happy to see her stay. The media are keen to keep the story going. The Italian prosecutors will go on leaking because they are frustrated. Under Berlusconi’s new statute of limitations they are running out of time to bring either Mills or their prime minister to court. For as long as Jowell remains in her post, Blair’s opponents can look forward to a flow of new revelations.
David Cameron has been caught napping. On Thursday he should have pronounced the ministerial code dead and promised that a Conservative government would introduce a properly independent system to adjudicate on ministers’ conduct.
But at least he took another step last week to change the Tories’ image. His new statement of principles seeks to break the link that people make between his party and money. The Conservatives’ new purpose, he says, is to help the less well-off, and he has sidelined the old policy of tax cuts. Cameron was helped by the spotlight on Jowell and Mills as a new Labour “loadsamoney” couple, an impression that will survive their separation. Blair’s closeness to Berlusconi feeds the conspiracy theories and reminds us of his infatuation with wealthy friends and enjoyment of their hospitality.
The BBC has recently screened The Lavender List, a title that recalls the resignation honours penned on tinted paper by Marcia Williams, Harold Wilson’s political secretary. He was the last prime minister to leave office voluntarily — 30 years ago this month. The list certainly colours our recollection of the Wilson years since it included Lord Kagan, subsequently jailed for fraud, and Sir Eric Miller, who committed suicide while under investigation. Wilson was attracted to rich people, though let it be said in his defence that he holidayed in the Isles of Scilly and died poor.
The television drama draws a malicious parallel with Downing Street today. One comparison at least holds good. As with the Wilson era, so too with the Blair years, it will be impossible to think back without an involuntary wrinkling of the nostrils. It’s caused by a whiff of hypocrisy and rottenness.
michael.portillo@sunday-times.co.uk
