A letter to Peter Jay
Anthony Holden
Dear Peter.
I've just been reading Geoffrey Moorhouse's new book on the Foreign Office*, and you were constantly in my thought's. There's a lot of stuff about Ambassadors, and what Extraordinary and Plentipotential people they are— and having read, and indeed written, so many adjectives about you these past few weeks, it struck me no one found two quite so appropriate! Anyway, knowing how busy you've been lately, what with the Ramsbotham business and 'Weekend World', I thought I'd just pass on a few tips I've gleaned. (Oh, by the way, in case you'd thought of skimming the book during the in-flight movie to Washington, don't bother. It's mostly anecdotes and colour stuff, quite apart from being insufferably sycophantic, and I know how you hate anything but the most scrupulously cerebral approach.)
First things first. There's quite a bit about Washington, which seems to be the job they're all after. You'll be the only Ambassador, for instance, with two Rolls-Royces. And sixteen servants. Moorhouse says some people cut down their household staff — 'partly because they don't believe the taxpayers' money should be spent on more than necessities, partly because they don't really feel comfortable with lackeys anyway' — but apparently you haven't got to. You get heaps of money for throwing parties and dinners, but you sometimes have to invite people you don't like. And you get lots of people coming to stay — Cabinet Ministers, MPs, captains of industry, even the Royals — but you have to have breakfast with them, which can be boring. Moorhouse also says it makes it more difficult to have rows with your wife.
Before you go, you have to put on a beaver cocked bat (the ostrich feathers are nylon) and a sword, and go and kiss the Queen's hand. I think she kisses yours too, but it's not quite clear. She'll give you a letter to take to the President, saying what a terrific chap you are, and that he's got to believe everything you say comes from her. When you get there, you take it straight round to Carter; but you can take off the gear, and there's no need to kiss him. Take a good look, while you're waiting, who else is there. When Ramsbotham arrived, Nixon apparently gave him only three minutes between the blokes from Haiti and Rwanda. That's the kind of thing these diplomats attach a lot of importance to.
When you've been there six weeks, you The Diplomats: The Foreign Office Today Geoffrey Moorhouse (Jonathan Cape £7.50)
have to send back a report saying what's going on. Then you do it every three or four months. Most people seem to get their assistants to do it for them; but I'm sure you'll want to do this yourself, and you may find one problem here. Moorhouse says you ought to keep it short, and I know how difficult you'll find that. But if you write too much, you see, David Owen won't have time to read it. And there's no point, I suppose, in warning you to keep it as simple as possible. It seems Ernie Bevin once told some diplomats: 'I sympathise with you; you have to encipher your Ambassador's telegrams. I have to read them.' But then, I should think David and Jim will be keeping a special eye out for yours. Jim will probably take them home for Audrey to read too.
Then there's the diplomacy itself. Moorhouse doesn't seem quite sure what that is,. Lots of people have tried to define it, and finished up coining clever aphorisms which I'm sure you can improve on. For instance, Sir Henry Wotton said that an Ambassador was 'an honest man who is sent to lie abroad for the good of his country'. (I never realised that was a pun, did you?) Somebody else said it ‘Vas the art of letting the other side have your own way. Moorhouse, poor dear, finishes up saying. 'Diplomacy can be seen as a contraceptive, whose function is not so much to seek solutions as to prevent the worst happening.' I think Harold Nicolson (a diplomat who became a journalist, I trust you've realised!) is probably better on this area. It seems to me the whole business is pretty simple, more demanding on the liver than'the brain. Sort of glorified travelling salesman, really. The only problem is you can't say what you really think of the product. You've got to stick to the Head Office line. So do be careful about Concorde and Europe — you know how keen Carter is on the Common Market — and for heaven's sake none of that stuff about Britain going down the drain.
You must tell Margaret that Moorhouse says an Ambassador's wife is as crucial to a mission's success as her husband. She's got to keep an eye on morale in the Embassy, without getting too friendly. Don't forget everybody's going to be calling you 'Sir'. So it's probably better, if you ever have any of your staff to dinner, for Margaret to take a tip from another Ambassador's wife and not allow second helpings. She's also got to make sure the other Embassy wives don't misbehave, and then she should have a wonderful time. Lady Tonks even got to open the Paris branch of Marks , and Spencer's.
That seems to be about it. Moorhouse
wrote his book before Katie Mortimer and Tessa Blackstone got to work, but he anyway doesn't seem particularly interested in whether or not the Foreign Office is a Good Thing. He doesn't really mention all the wasted money, the chaps who don't pull their weight, that sort of thing. So you'll have to make your own mind up on that. I know Peter Jenkins thinks Katie and Tessa are awfully clever, but I think we all know who's cleverer, eh?
Oh, one last thing. It's a bit sticky, actually. It seems you're bound to be offered a knighthood. Now I know how much you deserve one, but I do say you ought to think of Jim. He's had enough trouble over tlUs already, I'd have thought, without Dennis Skinner dragging up Lady Forkbender and all that. Anyway, I'm sure Maggie will give you one when she calls you back.
Lots of love and luck to you both, then' I'll hope to come and have breakfast before the Think Tank abolishes yOu. Put in a good word for me!
Bon Voyage, Tony.
PS: Moorhouse says there was a chaP who had to take 'sex' out of his recreations in Who's Who when he became an Ambas: sador. So it might be as well to take 'balls out of yours.
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