Walking Whitehall

Imagine you are an MP (a Member of Britain’s Parliament), and unlike Alan B’Stard in the TV series “The New Statesman”, you actually care about the party, your country, and the people you represent.  When you aren’t visiting your constituency, or debating in the House of Commons, you might find yourself at work in your office located in a district of London near the Palace of Westminster known as Whitehall.  In fact, many key scenes in the first two seasons of “The New Statesman” take place in B’Stard’s office, as he fashions his latest scheme to enrich himself and carefully nudges it into motion.  


Suppose you have proven your ability to wield popular support with both the public and your party.  If your party’s leaders find you capable (and your party holds the majority in parliament), you might find yourself, like James Hacker in the TV series “Yes, Minister” being requested by the Prime Minister to run a government department.  In that case, you would move from your office in Whitehall…to an office in another area of Whitehall.


Whitehall is an unassuming place of power.  As I walked its streets in the relative quiet of an evening when the politicians were engaged in the House of Commons, I saw people entering and exiting buildings, a few parties of caterers and other service staff, and the occasional policeman.  Not wanting the latter to question me as to why I should be interested in photographing nondescript government buildings, for the most part I contented myself with studying architectural details and taking in the area’s vibe.   But I had to wonder: if Hacker’s Department of Administrative Affairs were not fictitious, where might it be housed among other real-world departments such as the Admiralty, the Department for Work and Pensions, and the Foreign and Commonwealth Office?

Old buildings jostle for preeminence in Whitehall.

While numerous scenes depict B’Stard in the House of Commons, none are set there in “Yes, Minister.”  Following its creators’ belief that actual government is conducted behind closed doors, the shows are almost entirely set in government offices and private clubs.  Once, as I passed a café with outdoor seating and the sign “Civil Service Club,” I had to smile, thinking of Sir Humphrey Appleby and Bernard Wooley, the two members of the Civil Service with whom James Hacker worked most closely.  I wondered: were tonight’s patrons discussing the weather, their families, and their hobbies with their coworkers?  Or were they scheming as to how they could block their Minister’s latest reforms?


For the most part, “Yes, Minister” does not concern itself with the personal lives of its protagonists.  Instead, each episode concerns a different aspect of how the business of England is conducted.  MPs, Ministers, and even the Prime Minister are politicians; the Civil Service is its government.  Employed by the Crown, Civil Servants are protected from becoming the mere tools of any political party.  A politician serves as Minister of a particular government department for, at best, a few years.  While in power, he or she, as well as his party, will pursue agendas that they believe best represent the public’s desires.  When parliament changes hands, or a new minister takes over, the political agenda may change.  Meanwhile, Civil Servants work to preserve their department’s stability by pushing ahead with procedures and legislation that will ensure Britain’s long-term development.  Politicians crusade for causes; they fight so that good (as they see it) will win out in the public arena.  Civil Servants view government’s role as less of a struggle between good and evil and more in terms of order versus chaos.  Politicians concern themselves with garnering and maintaining voter approval; Civil Servants believe that unpopular policies are often the most necessary.


While the government of the United States is organized differently, I want to believe that it functions along similar lines.  Those working at all levels, regardless of whether they have been elected, appointed, or hired, may have a little of Alan B’Stard in them.  But most are probably people just like you and me, concerned about fulfilling their duties in a responsible fashion, and hoping that their efforts contribute positively to the lives of their fellow Americans.


That’s why I’d like to visit my own nation’s capital someday.  That’s why I’m walking through Whitehall now, instead of visiting a park, a restaurant, or relaxing in my hotel room.  That’s why, even though there’s really very little for a tourist to see, I find myself smiling. 


And unable to stop. 


“Yes, Minister” was written by Antony Jay and Jonathan Lynn, and is available on DVD.

Turned Away From the Palace of Westminster

Either my camera's too small, or the Palace too big!

In our hotel lobby, a TV had shown proceedings from the House of Commons.  A scandal had exploded upon Britain, and the Members of Parliament in the House of Commons were busy castigating the accused perpetrators and discussing how to resolve the crisis.  While the country’s conservative Tory party currently holds power, a consensus with the Labour and Liberal Democrat parties is necessary to resolve any issue.  But it seemed that partisan politics would not stymie action today, as all the people’s elected representatives seemed intent upon resolving this “phone-hacking” scandal.

The House of Commons (situated within the Palace of Westminster), with its wooden benches upholstered in the green leather, was familiar to me.  Not only had I occasionally watched cable TV coverage of Prime Minister’s Question Time (a weekly event in which, theoretically, any MP, or Member of Parliament, may be allowed to ask the Prime Minister a specific question), but I had received a DVD set of “The New Statesman” as a Christmas present.  This dark comedy, set in the late 80s and early 90s, follows the exploits of Alan B’Stard, a conservative MP who embodied all the hallmarks which those who opposed Margaret Thatcher’s policies accused her regime of.  B’Stard made his fortune through callousness and cruelty.  His marriage to Sarah is one of convenience: she desires only his money, and her father controls the local Tory party.  Whenever he speaks in the House of Commons, or works in his office in Whitehall, one could be certain that his actions were motivated by greed, and not to aid the people he is there to represent.

Why do I laugh when he insults another MP, steals his colleague’s speech, or takes money from a woman to print an anti-pornography pamphlet, only to then use the money to publish the very materials she is protesting?  Why do I enjoy following his misadventures when, for example, after a fist-fight with a cabby ends with B’Stard believing the cabby has died, he drives the vehicle into the countryside, seeking a secluded area in which to burn the cab and thus conceal his murder?  Does this point to a perverse aspect of my personality?  Or is it because I recognize that he is playing a stereotype in order to illuminate an essential truth: that not all politicians’ actions are devoted solely to themselves, and even those who get “found out” probably sought to effect something positive for their constituents?

Those Who Guard the Politicians

Whatever the reason, it would appear that I am not alone.  Although the show only lasted four seasons, its popularity continues in Britain.  “The New Statesman” parlayed its popularity into a stage show.  Columns appear regularly in British newspapers and magazines in which B’Stard boasts of his behind-the-scenes role in key governmental events and decisions.  And earlier this year, Alan B’Stard, portrayed by the original series actor, succeeded in helping marshal opposition to a ballot initiative.

As Britain’s Members of Parliament do not represent me, there is no logical reason why I should wait in line to watch them conduct business.  Yet that wood-paneled room with its green-upholstered benches holds a certain power for me.  This is a country that has three major political parties.  Instead of a Congress of two houses filled with representatives elected by the people, it has a Parliament, separated into two houses, and only for which its members are elected.  (The members of the other house, the House of Lords, are appointed, or serve by hereditary right).  Instead of having a President chosen by the people (or electoral ballots), the government is ruled by a Prime minister selected from whichever party holds the most seats in the House of Commons.  The Queen even drops in occasionally (to keep an eye on them).  While we may speak the same language (well, almost!), all this reminds me how very different England is from the United States.  Thus, I yearn to enter this former palace, and watch the British government at work.

"Sorry, but there's no more room in the inn."

We approach the attendants, only to be told that we could not be admitted at this time.  Although the line outside wasn’t long, the police had determined that the number of visitors inside was excessive.  “Why don’t you grab dinner and come back in an hour?” one of the uniformed women suggested.  The idea had merit: it was six o’clock in the evening, after all.  But not only were our heads out-of-sorts from a lack of sleep: our stomachs also out-of-sorts from the eight-hour time-zone change.  So we lingered to ask them a few general questions about Parliament and the Palace, and then we wandered on.  Would we get caught up in our explorations and return only to find that the members of Parliament had decided to retire for the evening?  Time would tell....

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The Power of Big Ben

Clocks order our days.  They dictate where we need to be, remind us if we fall behind in our duties, and periodically demand that we reassess our priorities.  In return for how they help us organize our lives, we craft them into diverse shapes and sizes, using an infinite variety of materials.  Clocks tick upon our mantles.  Intricate fretwork clocks guard our shelves.  Noisy cuckoo clocks and cat-clocks with roving eyes and swaying tails hang upon our walls.  Grandfather clocks dominate our entryways and rooms.  Cities build monumental clocks in which life-size figures move and dance and interact with each other.  But all of these, regardless of size or quality of workmanship, are banished from our minds in the presence of Big Ben.

This indomitable clock rises from the north end of the Palace of Westminster.  It towers above government officials, busy Londoners, and tourists.  It has become as recognizable a symbol of London and England as the Statue of Liberty is representative of New York City and the United States.  But Big Ben does not belong solely to just one city or nation or people.  In a strange way, it exerts its power and dominion over all of us.  And in return, we adore it.

Visual storytellers recognize its hold over the viewer.  Peter Pan lands atop Big Ben before heading off to Neverland.  Events in “The Great Mouse Detective” and “Shanghai Nights” climax with a fight in the clock’s workings or out on its faces.  In the movie based on the British TV show “The Avengers,” when Sir August de Wynter attempts to hold the world to ransom with his weather-control machinery, he demonstrates his weapon's effectiveness by using lightning to destroy Big Ben.  In the science fiction comedy “Mars Attacks!” and the Doctor Who episode “Aliens of London,” invading aliens cannot resist destroying this famous landmark.  And when Big Ben appears in the opening of the TV sitcoms “The New Statesman” or “Yes Minister,” we know that we are about to watch a show about the British government at work.

As I wrestle with my camera to cram as much of Big Ben as I can into frame, I feel the tight knots inside me begin to loosen.  Before, as I walked past buildings displaying London’s diverse variety of architectural styles, I could have been in any city enriched by centuries of human habitation.  Westminster Abbey’s treasures inspired a sense of awe, but I have visited many beautiful churches.  For varying reasons, both experiences reminded me that I was a foreigner.  Now, in Big Ben’s presence, I know where I am. 

I may have traveled halfway around the world, but strangely, I now feel more at ease in this immense and bustling city.

Related Dragon Cache entries

A Journey into English Fiction Part 1

Where Church and State are One: Part 1