Ministeria

It was one of our Welsh colleagues, I think, who coined the definition of a Minister as one who brings mini comfort. One of the duties of the Executive Chairman in my time was to preside at the Annual Conference Dinner when the guest speaker was commonly a Minister. Occasionally it was the Secretary of State but more often a junior minister.

Their messages varied. Often it was, “You’re doing a great job and we’re pleased to be supporting you so well”. Sometimes it was even more forthcoming, like

“You’re doing a great job and as soon as resources permit, etc…”

But occasionally it was different.

For example, at the Conference following the publication of the Russell Report (anyone remember that?) the Minister of State gave a typically bland and non-committal speech, mainly about civilisation, which he seemed to be in favour of; and then he was bluntly asked by Tom Kelly, the Chairman, why he didn’t come straight out and say, here’s a plan for development and the Government accepts it. “For too long,” said Tom, “we’ve been fobbed off with empty phrases.”

The visitor was clearly miffed and declined to stay for dinner, or maybe it was for coffee. The Executive then agonised about the advisability of such plain speaking, even to a Conservative Minister. Edward Hutchinson pointed out, as he often did, that the colour of the government was irrelevant: we’d done no better under Labour. And Tom, always enjoying a nod to the Classics, observed “Magna est veritas, et praevalebit” (Great is truth and it will prevail). Maybe it will, but Tom Kelly didn’t live to see it.

I succeeded Professor Kelly as Executive Chairman and in my time too there were some tricky moments with ministers. They always came equipped with speeches prepared by civil servants. That was OK: we all knew the codes and how much to take note of. The trouble arose when the brief was ignored.

For example, there was the egregious occasion when the Secretary of State had to cry off at the last moment and sent a junior minister. She had tossed aside, or hadn’t read, the prepared text and spoke extempore from the heart. She happened to be in charge of pre-school education and so she passionately advocated universal nursery schools, adding that resources for frills like adult education could not be spared until that golden day had fully dawned. This was not well received. Indeed, I could see signs of high-octane fury in certain faces (it had been a good, generously lubricated dinner.) The temptation to keep quiet and let it roll was mischievously strong; but instead I slipped a note to the departmental minder saying that the Conference Manager would show where the back door was and please get her car there quick. So after a weasel thank-you saying what a pity her departmental responsibilities precluded her staying for the discussion of her thought-provoking discourse, I took her firmly by the elbow to pilot her to the car and get her out of town.

Another time there was the late Sir Keith Joseph, renowned for his skill at the hustings. He too discarded his brief. Instead he decided to treat the occasion like an election meeting. Alas, his brief would have told him who were in the audience but he chose to explore this himself. Who have we here? Any from the WEA? Any youth workers? Any social workers? Any probation officers? A hand or two went up but no more. Nevertheless, each group was warmly welcomed, commended for its work and assured of Conservatism’s undying love. To each, he said, we want more of you, etc. Then this sweep of inclusiveness really carried him away. Old people’s welfare, the WI, Mothers Union, Scouts, Guides, mental health workers, every conceivable kind of voluntary worker, all were gathered into his embrace. But for the most part that hall full of people who actually did the job of adult education passed without notice: obviously he just didn’t know about us.

It wasn’t always so. I remember for example a glowing address by Shirley Williams when she was still a Labour Minister. Generally, however, I was saddened by the missed opportunity presented by these occasions, when the Great One swanned in for a harmless ritual, performed it, and swanned out again. If only they had met with what we were doing and what we were trying to do, and learned from it, their perspective on the whole process of education might have been widened.

Photo: Tom Kelly