《No, Minister.(存一下英文版)》用其他笔名

12、[Interlude] S01E01.5 Cyril Astley’s Diary and Memos (22-24 January 1980)

　　[Interlude] S01E01.5
　　Cyril Astley’s Diary and Memoranda (22-24 January 1980)
　　Tuesday, 22nd January, 1980 | Pimlico, London | Overcast
　　I forgot to adjust the radio alarm and was jolted awake at six by the BBC Radio 4 pips.
　　Half-asleep, I heard the announcer giving the latest update on the steelworkers' strike: some union leader threatening to "show the government the power of the working class." I thought groggily that Sir might be interested in the rhetorical structure of that sentence—a present-progressive threat packaged in the future tense.
　　As I adjusted the alarm, I glanced out the window. It was not yet light, the streetlamps looking desolate in the thin mist, much like my mood at being forced to wake so early.
　　With a rare luxury of time on a weekday morning, I prepared a more substantial breakfast than usual—fried egg, grilled tomato, toast. While eating, I scanned The Times. The front page was dominated by the new Prime Minister's struggle with the unions; a small piece on page three mentioned that the "newly established Department of Synergy Coordination will strive to enhance government efficiency." I decided I might as well head into Whitehall early.
　　A full day's schedule.
　　The morning was mainly spent processing documents and assisting the Minister in familiarising himself with procedures. The Minister showed marked impatience with the lengthy departmental reports in his red box, such as the preliminary framework proposal for optimising inter-departmental communication mechanisms. He leafed through it at an astonishing speed, finally closing the file and remarking, "Cyril, of this 47-page document, less than half a page is actually useful. The other 46 and a half pages are disclaimers for that half page."
　　I tried to explain that this was the standard Whitehall format, requiring a thorough justification of the background and coverage of all possible scenarios. But the Minister simply shook his head. "And this is why government is so inefficient."
　　Furthermore, the Minister expressed a degree of wariness and sarcasm towards any document that had passed through Sir's hands, possibly because Sir's annotations appeared so frequently in the margins of various papers.
　　It was obvious that almost all the documents placed in the red boxes for the Minister today—and perhaps those in the In-tray as well—had been reviewed by Sir at least once. This wasn't because Sir was a micromanager, but because the department was so short-staffed that much of the work that should have been handled by a Deputy or Assistant Secretary fell to him alone.
　　So, comments like "our 'Observer' is truly everywhere" or "more of 'Victor's' red tape" always left me at a loss for a response.
　　Silence might have been the safest option, but I remembered a Latin proverb: Qui tacet consentire videtur. He who is silent is seen to consent.
　　Thus, after introducing the department's initial functions to the Minister, I tried to introduce the functions of a Permanent Secretary—I imagine there's not much difference between an Acting Permanent Secretary and a Permanent Secretary? I then explained that because the department was new and understaffed, Sir had taken on more review work than was typical, to ensure the new department did not falter in its initial stages. I also took the opportunity to mention the department's temporary budget predicament; the Treasury had still not budged, and for this fiscal year, the DSC was operating on transitional funding from the Cabinet Office.
　　I saw the Minister's eyebrow raise slightly as he looked up at me, a look that seemed to say, "Whose side are you on?" I immediately realised my words sounded too much like a defence of Sir, and that I might have offended the Minister.
　　Just as I was beginning to consider whether I should contact the Cabinet Office about the process for being seconded back, the Minister picked up the PPS appointment recommendation file and fluently signed his name in the signature box. As he handed the document to me, he said, "Alright, Cyril. Since you know the procedures so well, you can stay and help me deal with them." I was immensely relieved.
　　The entire morning passed in a flurry of red boxes, documents, occasional sarcastic remarks, and my own careful explanations.
　　At 14:30, as scheduled, the Minister met with the other members of the private office. 'Other members' was a generous term; including myself, there were only five of us in the private office at present. More staff were due to arrive next week.
　　The Minister was very affable. He shook hands with everyone, chatted with the secretaries about the weather and traffic, and even remembered phrases from their welcome letters. The Minister emphasised that we were a new team, with many rules still being written, and said that he needed everyone's help and looked forward to everyone's suggestions. The atmosphere in the office relaxed considerably as a result.
　　After the meeting, the Minister asked me to accompany him to see Sir to discuss the DSC's initial policy direction.
　　Upon entering Sir's office, the Minister got straight to the point, saying he wanted to hear Sir's recommendations for tomorrow's inter-departmental meeting.
　　Sir briefly outlined the basic framework of the meeting—which departments were invited, what level of representative to expect, the likely scope of topics. His wording was precise, his logic clear, as if he were reciting a pre-prepared brief.
　　"I want to use this opportunity to push for the establishment of a substantive information-sharing mechanism, a platform that can truly break down departmental silos," the Minister said.
　　"Of course, Minister," Sir nodded slightly. "It is just that… perhaps we need to consider a gradual approach. The primary goal of the first meeting should be to establish initial channels of communication, to demonstrate the DSC's willingness to coordinate, rather than—"
　　"Rather than actually solving problems?" the Minister cut him off. "Victor, we cannot set our sights so low from the start."
　　I noticed the Minister had again used that name, which was not Sir's.
　　"Minister, I understand your enthusiasm," Sir's voice remained steady. "But departments are generally cautious towards new establishments. An overly aggressive proposal might—"
　　"Might make them uncomfortable?" the Minister interrupted again. "And isn't that precisely why we exist? To make this rusty machine uncomfortable until it's willing to turn."
　　I sat to one side, my notebook open on my lap, the nib of my pen hovering above the paper, unsure whether I should be recording this exchange.
　　"Minister, you may conduct tomorrow's meeting in any way you see fit. I am merely offering my recommendation. The final decision rests with you." Sir paused, then added, "I will prepare a draft agenda for your consideration."
　　"Good." The Minister stood up. "I will prepare one as well. We can compare them then, and see which is more suitable." With that, he turned and left the office.
　　As I was about to follow, Sir called me back. He took a new notebook from a drawer and handed it to me.
　　"Sir?" I was a little puzzled.
　　"For tomorrow's meeting, I need you to observe as much as you can, and then record, as much as you can, all the details you notice," he said. "Not just the content of the speeches. I need you to observe and record the contextus of those speeches."
　　Contextus?
　　Woven together? The unsaid, woven into what was said?
　　I sensed something, but it was not yet clear. I simply replied, "I will do my best, Sir."
　　After leaving Sir's office, I returned to my desk and opened the new notebook. On the flyleaf, Sir had copied, in his elegant cursive:
　　Verba volant, scripta manent. (Words fly away, writings remain.)
　　I stared at that line of Latin for a long time.
　　It's an old maxim, often used in the Civil Service to stress the importance of written records. But in this 'context', it seemed to have a deeper meaning.
　　What did I need to observe? For the rest of that day, until I wrote this diary entry, I kept thinking about what Sir wanted me to observe and record. I filled a whole page with details I might need to record at the meeting, but I still felt I only half-understood…
　　But I think, after tomorrow, I will know.