The age of patronage
There have been many depressing announcements in the House of Commons recently. Not the least dispiriting was a Written answer late last week from Mr Gerald Kaufman of the Department of Industry. He confirmed that the chairmanship of Cable and Wireless had not been advertised when it became vacant; and he added that it was 'not appropriate' to advertise the position, and that he could not say whether other candidates than Mr Edward Short--the newly-appointed chairman_ had been considered.
This particular case is wretched enough. Not even Mr Short's best friends have maintained that he has any Special qualifications for his new post (admittedly some of his friends are in premises from which public cornMent is difficult). His appointment is in fact outrageous. He has no experience that we know of of the telecommunications business, nor for that matter any very obvious executive ability.
The appointment at least highlights a development Which has changed the face of public life in England, Changed it with such stealth that few have noticed. It is the return to patronage as a keystone in the political sYstem, in what Sir Harold Wilson calls the 'Governance of Britain'. Last year it was revealed that seven ministers have in their gift more than 4000 jobs worth more than f.. 4.2 million a year in fees and salaries. Many of those Jobs are worthless. Would the country be worse off without the Commonwealth Development Corporation, or the China Clay Council or the Motor Rallies Advisory Committee'? It would in fact be £1000 a year better off for each member of the Eggs Authority it dispensed with.
But as interesting as the fact that public money is being distributed in a prodigal manner is the question of who receives it. The 'great and good' who were once thought fit for appointment to 'quangos'—the ugly but useful coinage for quasi-autonomous national governmental organisations—were public-spirited worthies. Increasingly, though, these jobs are being handed to trade union chiefs, like Lord Greene of the NUR (a total of £2500 p.a. for three 'quango' jobs) or pensioned-off politicians like Lord Greenwood (and a handsome pension : £5090 for three part-time jobs). In every case the story is the same: direct ministerial appointment, no advertisement of the position, no competition. It is as if the age of reform had never been. From the Victorian or Macaulayan principle that appointment and promotion should be on merit we are returning to the robust practice of the eighteenth century when men openly went into public life to better themselves financially and when government monies were used to buy support and to reward allies.
The system in a different form has taken striking hold in the House of Commons where the ministerial benches contain ninety-two salaried placeman, as compared to thirty-eight seventy years ago. That state of affairs should be ended. What is needed even more is a drastic reduction in the number of 'quango' jobs, and a system of open, accountable appointment for those that remain.
