Charles Moore

Easter Monday marks the 25th anniversary of the Good Friday Agreement. One of the most interesting things ever written by its most famous architect, Tony Blair, appeared (in the Sunday Telegraph) at Easter 1996, two years earlier. The piece, largely devoid of his vague boosterism, suggested he had thought about his subject. Under the title, ‘Why I am a Christian’, Blair wrote of Pontius Pilate: ‘The intriguing thing… is the degree to which he tried to do the good thing rather than the bad. He commands our moral attention not because he was a bad man but because he was so nearly a good man. One can imagine him agonising, seeing that Jesus had done nothing wrong, and wishing to release him.

When you read the Guardian free online, a yellow notice appears asking you for money (‘Will you invest in the Guardian?’) to support its fearless journalism. But now arises a donor’s dilemma. After two years’ work, the paper has just produced a full report on and apology from its current owner for its founders’ involvement in slavery. The historian David Olusoga, part of the project, says that what the Guardian owes the descendants of slavery for this is ‘an unpayable debt’. The paper is attempting to pay it, however, setting aside £10 million for the purpose of restorative justice over ten years. So for the conscientious Guardian reader (is there any other kind?

Obviously it is not the fault of Ofsted that a headteacher, Ruth Perry, killed herself after her school, formerly rated ‘outstanding’, was downgraded to ‘inadequate’ by its inspectors. Suicide is, by definition, the decision of the person committing it. It is also true that second-rate schools and teaching unions detest inspections precisely because they keep them up to the mark. Nevertheless, Ofsted does need to think carefully about the impact of that word ‘inadequate’ when linked, as it was in the case of Ms Perry’s school, with another word, ‘safeguarding’. I saw what happened when the same charge was laid against Ampleforth College. ‘Safeguarding’ is a word that contains many things.

There are 20 BBC Singers and they cost less than one Gary Lineker. Unlike Lineker, they have broken no rules, but the BBC want to close them down. They have worked in a cave in Maida Vale for a hundred years and it is quite possible that top BBC executives, much too busy to listen to the Corporation’s own cultural output, know almost nothing about the Singers. They probably do not know, for instance, that the BBC Singers have a nice line in singing the Match of the Day theme tune. The Singers are a prime example of the sort of thing which justifies the BBC’s unique privilege of raising money through the licence fee. They are central to Britain’s musical ecology and keep our great choral tradition alive by commissioning new work in a way no commercial organisation could manage.

The Sue Gray phenomenon fascinates me as an example of the perils of thinking you are good. (A related case study is that of Sir Keir Starmer.) It strikes me again and again that the most self-deceiving people in modern public life are those who publicly set themselves on the side of virtue. You see this in senior civil servants, judges, university vice-chancellors, NHS administrators, green businesses, heads of big charities and aid organisations. ‘We do good, so we can do no wrong’ is the great non-sequitur of the age, and the proliferation of ‘standards in public life’, ‘propriety and ethics’ committees, experts on ESG, diversity, inclusion, decarbonisation, transparency etc only makes things worse.

I don’t specially want Sir Keir Starmer to be prime minister, but if that is the eventual price of Nicola Sturgeon’s resignation, so be it. Although Ms Sturgeon’s political skills deserve respect, her rule in Scotland has been rigidly ideological and thus – by an apparent paradox – corrupt. If you believe you are the political version of Calvin’s elect, you can do no wrong. You therefore create a one-party state, police force, civil service etc staffed by your own supporters, and crush any dissenters. As a result, your country becomes divided and badly governed. Eventually, your righteousness traps you in extremist insanity – in this case, maintaining that a dangerous male rapist is a safe woman. You thought you were an angel, so you fall like Lucifer.

On Monday in the Lords, Michael Heseltine, 90 next month, orated (I employ that Welsh usage because it fits him so well) in favour of the European single market. He regarded its regulations as ‘one of the most successful concepts ever developed by humankind’. He deplored the fact that the government is trying, post-Brexit, to escape them. He attacked Rupert Murdoch and Conrad Black and compared Jacob Rees-Mogg to Robespierre. His stirring words reminded me of another great nonagenarian performance in the upper house – Harold Macmillan’s maiden speech as Earl of Stockton in November 1984, which I watched from the gallery.

If you walk down Whitehall, you will see numerous Ukrainian flags on government buildings. I approve the sentiments. Like many all over the country, we fly the Ukrainian flag in our garden. But is it right that the flag should be flown by HMG? On what basis, and by whom, is such a decision made? Just now, of course, the interests of the United Kingdom and of Ukraine are closely allied; but it is a basic principle of foreign policy that British interests may sometimes clash even with those of close allies. Suppose we fall out with Ukraine while the war continues. Would we keep the flags flying, thus looking hypocritical, or take them down, thus looking disloyal?

Has the German leopard at last changed its spots, now that it says it will release the tanks of that name? The Germany/Ukraine story has so far been another example of the former’s long-proclaimed desire to create a European Germany rather than a German Europe. In fact, however, the two phrases now amount to much the same thing. As with the single currency and with energy, so with war materiel: German power exceeds that of all continental rivals. But, by speaking about being so European, Germany has probably gained dominance more easily than if it had been more national in tone. It might now be more honest – and safer for Ukraine – if Germany were to follow the logic of its leadership and help Zelensky as fast, rather than as slowly, as possible.

Obituaries of Paul Johnson, who died last week, have captured his prodigious gifts of exposition, wide range of knowledge and formidable power of attack. All true, but there are good things to be added, which I saw as his editor at this paper in the 1980s, and as a friend. Despite his reputation for uncertain temper – Jonathan Miller said he ‘looked like an explosion in a pubic hair factory’ – Paul was a most reliable and easy contributor. His copy was self-starting, to length, on time. It hardly needed editing (except that he was, like Evelyn Waugh, surprisingly bad at spelling). Given that he lived entirely on what he wrote, I was touched that he never once complained about The Spectator’s fee for his weekly contribution, which was tiny (£90, I think).

The Duke of Sussex says that he and his wife can never return to live in the United Kingdom. They will never again perform royal duties. By the same token, surely, they should not be invited to the coronation in May. There has to be a price for publicly attacking the King, the Queen Consort and the heir to the throne, attacks in which he gave accounts of private occasions when he must know that the people he condemns can never give their version of the events. If the Sussexes were invited, that would imply that their behaviour was condoned, which would in turn imply that the manner and content of their criticisms were justified. If they accepted, their presence would disrupt the ceremony. If they refused, they would also grab attention.

Visiting my family’s house, now inhabited by my sister, the other day, I dug out the heart of my childhood library, my Ladybird Books. They were the only books I bought with my pocket money when I was a small boy. Each short, well-produced hardback cost half a crown (12.5p). I got one old penny for each year of my age. So when I stopped buying Ladybirds at the age of 12, I was laying out two and a half weeks’ earnings on them. Rereading them now, I see how much they excited my imagination. Perhaps because of their link with childhood, they read well at Christmas. There were many different types of Ladybird books – ones about the farm, or travel, for instance – but the ones I liked the best were called ‘Adventures from history’.

Sir Keir Starmer says the House of Lords is ‘indefensible’. It is an odd thing to say about an institution which has lasted more than 700 years. It is slightly like saying the common law is indefensible, and extremely like saying that the monarchy is indefensible (which is, I think we know, what Sir Keir does actually believe). There are several defences to be made for the Lords. They are just not, strictly speaking, democratic ones. But I must stick to my rule (see last week) of avoiding the subject of House of Lords reform. The funniest bit of Sir Keir’s constitutional plans is that he chooses to justify them in economic terms. Apparently, his new layer of elected regional non-Lords will bring new prosperity to the United Kingdom.