'It is said that failed politicians make the best diarists. In which case I am in with a chance.' Chris Mullin
Chris Mullin has been a Labour MP for twenty years, and despite his refusal to toe the party line - on issues like 90 days detention, for example - he has held several prominent posts. To the apoplexy of the whips, he was for a time the only person appointed to government who voted against the Iraq War. He also chaired the Home Affairs Select Committee and was a member of the Parliamentary Committee, giving him direct access to the court of Tony Blair.
Irreverent, wry and candid, Mullin's keen sense of the ridiculous allows him to give a far clearer insight into the workings of Government than other, more overtly successful politicians. He offers humorous and incisive takes on all aspects of political life: from the build-up to Iraq, to the scandalous sums of tax-payers' money spent on ministerial cars he didn't want to use. His critically acclaimed diary will entertain and amuse far beyond the political classes.
Chris Mullin is the former MP for Sunderland South, a journalist and author. His books include the first volume of his acclaimed diaries, A View From the Foothills. He also wrote the thriller, A Very British Coup, with the television version winning BAFTA and Emmy awards. He was a minister in three departments, Environment, Transport and Regions, International Development and The Foreign Office.
Mullin has always intrigued me, first and foremost was his involvement in obtaining the release of the 'Birmingham Six', when the common viewpoint was that they were guilty.
This is a fantastic political memoir of a commited and active Labour MP and junior minister.
I am not entirely sure if the allure of this book is the intellect of the writer, or the fact that he didnt rise to one of the the top jobs. On reflection I think its the former not the latter.
Mullin was forthright on a number of key decisions within the government at the time, most notable was the Iraq war.
Hindsight is a beautiful thing, so an MP with such a moral standpoint should be lauded.
Concluding the memoir, its quite sad that MP's do not have such a true commitment to public office.
For political nerds and anyone who happened to be alive during the New Labour project as it unravelled into the Iraq War, this account of those years is spellbinding. From the inner workings of the parliamentary machine to the intricacies of managing an executive, the diaries can also be read as the prose equivalent of an illustrated "how it works" guide to government. Documenting his rise from influential backbench rebel to ineffectual minister of state (and back again), Mullin recounts his journey with humility and humour – and shows that some people do go into politics for the right reasons after all.
Gosh, this book took me back twenty years or more to the heyday of New Labour: the self-defeating spinning, the scandals, the endless targets and quotas, the empty aspirational language. Chris Mullin, a minor figure in the Blair government (the chair of various select committees, a junior minister twice) was busily taking notes on what he saw, and these diaries – covering 1999 to 2005 – are the result. A jacket quote describes the contents as ‘wickedly indiscreet,’ but somehow they didn’t feel that way to me. Mullin comes across as a fair and careful observer, open to amusement, concerned to present a measured picture of the people he knew – and if those people sometimes behaved badly or outrageously, what was he supposed to do? Suppress all mention of it? That would have made a very dull memoir.
At first, I worried that the level of political detail would make for a dry read, but that reservation only lasted for a few pages: I was soon absorbed. I liked that he could change his mind about colleagues: initially he was not a fan of the volatile John Prescott, but gradually came to warm to him, albeit remaining humorously alert to the contradictions of his character. The baked-in unsuitability of Gordon Brown to take over as leader is evident to Mullin and almost everyone else from the beginning. We get a ringside seat to the slow puncture sustained to Tony Blair’s reputation (and its ultimate demise) by his decision to go along with America’s invasion of Iraq; and simultaneously an exposé of the embarrassing truth about the ‘special relationship’ between the two countries. John Major makes a few appearances, and I was pleased to find him as decent as he always seemed; Peter Mandelson, by way of contrast, never seemed so, and is not here (to put it mildly).
Mullin is frequently exasperated by the apathetic or antisocial behaviour of some of his constituents, as well as righteously angry at the poison dripped into their ears by sections of the press, but A View from the Foothills is not all politics: we also get snapshots of the author’s family life – his elderly parents in failing health, his wife and young daughters – and friendships.
An entertaining political memoir, in which the main interest is in the Labour Party's infighting and the author's views on Tony Blair. Mr Mullin is to be credited for his honesty - he often confesses to disliking the electorate and being willing to follow policies in the interests of staying in power rather than remaining true to his principles. He shines a spotlight on the stupidity and populism which plagues our political system and it is an easy, excellent read.
Insider account of the first two terms of the Blair/Brown era. Excellent on foreign policy, esp Iraq (which CM didn't support) and Africa, but his protestations about the 'Harmsworth Lie Machine' (ie the Mail) are undercut by an approving cover quote from the Mail on Sunday and Peter Oborne's praise on the back (from when he was at the Mail). Some useful aphorisms and meditations on politics.
A great account of the British politics around the Iraq war. Also the author is a very refreshing person, and exposes a lot of the internal problems he has seen.
If there was a genre "politics is crap" (like "war is hell"), this should be one of its main title...
Good to know that some people go into politics for the right reasons and not simply to inflate their own ego. Chris Mullin's modest and mischievous diary is a revelatory delight and provides a consistently informative and entertaining insider view of the Blair/Brown Labour governments.
Well written with no earth shattering revelations. He does make it seem as if serving as an MP and a junior member of the cabinet was tedious. I thought it interesting, and somewhat expected, that he didn't think very highly of Americans.
Funny, informative and well worth reading for an insider’s view of being in government. It balances well being full of detail while being a ‘good read’.
The proposer said that he had chosen it as it was a book he had been unable to put down. He was aware this might be because he had a particular interest in politics, but he hoped that the book might have proved to be of wider interest.
He felt the book worked at several different levels:
- there was the story of Mullin as an individual, his hopes and fears, from the beginning to the end of his Ministerial career. He had an attractive personality – honest, modest, self-deprecating, sharp but also naïve – not like a politician at all;
- it was an unvarnished account of New Labour in power;
- there was a record of the tedium and futility (as perceived by Mullin) of life as a junior Minister, although he seemed to fare much better once he moved to the Foreign Office.
Mullin wrote particularly well, being – like Alan Clark – a writer who became a politician rather than vice versa.
The best political diaries (such as those of Chips Channon and Alan Clark) were those – like Mullin’s – written by a minor participant, who was not distorting events to justify themselves to posterity. Mullin was like Rosencrantz or Guilderstern, helplessly playing a bit part while Blair’s Hamlet took the big decisions.
The diary format gave a contemporary record of the Blair years, with all its foibles, which could be quite different from views formed in hindsight, for example in relation to the Iraq War, where Mullin gave a fascinating account of the build-up to the vote in Parliament and the pressures put on him to vote with the Government. However, it had to be borne in mind that editing had taken place – both the self-editing that took place when writing down the diaries initially, and then the extensive editing down that took place before publication. This as a minimum was likely to leave in those references that were judged particularly topical or prescient for the concerns of 2009.
So did the book prove of wider interest? There was no consensus whatsoever within the group. There were three distinct strands of opinion:
- those who like the proposer had a government or political background and were fascinated by the book. One, indeed, had enjoyably crossed swords with Mullin as Chairman of the Home Affairs Select Committee – and had a high opinion of Mullin – but was relieved not to be featuring in the diaries. They felt the book was always engaging, perceptive, and written with none of the ego one expects from politicians. It was full of fresh insights, and written by a man – like Pepys – who was determined to be completely honest about what he saw and what he felt. He was also a model of conscientiousness in his constituency work;
- secondly, those with no particular interest in politics who found the book mildly, but not very, interesting. “Easy to pick up, and easy to put down”. It could have usefully have been edited down more rigorously. For them the diaries of a major participant might have been more interesting;
- third, those with no particular background in politics but who were shocked to the core by the revelations of ambition, deceit and inefficiency at the heart of New Labour and our system of government. Nor did they thank Mullin for revealing this – they felt he too revealed far too much ego and ambition. And they felt his diaries were always written with an eye on posterity and publication - for example any criticism of anyone was always offset by a compliment shortly afterwards (although Gordon Brown did come out particularly badly)…
Last night I had insomnia, so ended up reading all 550 pages of this book before I dropped off at 5am. I’ve previously read Decline & Fall: Diaries 2005 2010, which were equally addictive reading. Mullins has an extremely easy-to-read, analytical yet gossipy style and covers a striking mixture of huge geopolitical events and hilarious mundanities. The first half of the diary covers what seems in retrospect to be a golden age - no war on terror, no extreme weather disasters, no economic chaos, no austerity, no toxic narrative of scroungers. The Labour government was comfortable, the Conservatives were in freefall, the Lib Dems barely merited mention, and UKIP might just as well not have existed. During this period, Mullin spent some time as a junior minister in the environment department (since renamed multiple times), preoccupied with the problem of excessively tall leylandii hedges. Imagine! Climate change and energy insecurity simply weren’t concerns. Mullin’s commentary on transport policy made me smile wryly, though, as it showed a lack of government strategy and focus that still prevails in the sector. Mullin's battle over ministerial cars is also absurdly funny yet rather horrifying.
The turning point in the diaries is of course September 11th, whereupon the Labour’s political fate became tied to George W. Bush and the Iraq war caused fissures both in the party and government. Mullin’s account is fascinatingly candid. 2003 then saw the beginning of the tabloid’s assault on asylum seekers, since widened to include basically anyone under 70 that claims benefits. These two wars mark the end of any golden age and the beginning of the slide towards our current moribund coalition government. I find the 1999-2005 period especially interesting as it covers the first years when I became interested enough in politics and current affairs to actually follow what was happening. Moreover, the contrast between government then and now is rather extraordinary. Labour followed a policy of perpetual reshuffles, whereas the coalition has gone to the opposite extreme and kept ministers in departments against all sense and reason. (Housing minister is the only role to have been handed around; surely one of the most thoroughly poisoned chalices in Westminister.) Although Mullin discusses growing cynicism in the electorate with dismay, this was still prior to the expenses scandal, phone-tapping/Murdoch revelations, and financial crisis. Cuts to public services were utter taboo, something that changed with breath-taking speed once George Osborne became chancellor.
Thus this book provoked nostalgia, amusement, sadness, and fascination in equal measure. Mullin is a wonderful diarist and provides a humane, self-effacing, and incisive perspective. I highly recommend his diaries, especially if you want something to thoroughly enjoy whilst you’re unable to sleep.
These are the diaries of Chris Mullin, the former MP for Sunderland South, covering the period 1999-2005, during which time he was a junior minister and backbench MP. This is a really interesting period (Iraq, the Blair-Brown rivalry, etc) and is of personal interest because it overlaps with the period when I worked in Whitehall.
I really, really enjoyed this book. It’s fascinating if you like political gossip (and I do) because it’s full of political gossip. CM doesn’t hold back with his opinions and is very frank if people annoy him. There are also fascinating snippets of conversations from select committees and Blair’s meetings with his backbenchers. He writes engagingly and is often very funny. There are some very prescient comments – Robin Cook saying that the publication of MPs’ expenses is going to cause problems ‘and many MPs don’t realise the mess they’re in’. David Miliband saying Blair will serve a full second term but not a third. CM spotting David Cameron as one to watch within weeks of his joining a select committee. All great fun to read with hindsight.
CM is an odd character, though. At times, I really warmed to him – honest, witty, compassionate, clearly devoted to his wife and daughters. At others, he came over as sanctimonious and I was a bit annoyed by his frustration with his lack of promotion. He rails against what he calls ‘useless activity’ (and I agree, there is plenty of that in Whitehall) but he doesn’t read his briefs, doesn’t pay attention during Prime Minister’s Questions, doesn’t read his department’s legislation ahead of time… This isn’t ‘pointless activity’ – it’s the job. That’s what ministers are for, and it isn’t in the same category as the pointless activity he complains about. (I can well imagine that he would have given short shrift to an official who had come to a meeting unprepared!) He comments admiringly on other ministers who are on top of their game (and who get promoted) but still seems to feels aggrieved when he isn’t promoted, pointing out that he works hard and puts in long hours. Yes, he does – but others work harder and longer.
That’s the most frustrating thing, actually. He is a clever man, a principled man – politics needs more people like him. But I get the impression that he stayed in the foothills, not because of any personal grudges or behind the scenes politicking, but because he cut corners and was found out. That aside, it’s a brilliant read (in fact, if he was too likeable in every respect it wouldn’t be such a satisfying read, I expect).
Diary recorded by Mullin during his period as a lowly member of the government during the height and decline of New Labour (from 1999 to 2005 when Blair asked him to stand down after the election). A easily written account of life in the lowest rungs of government and Mullin’s quick realisation that he is far less empowered than he was as an influential Select Committee chairman and head of Parliamentary committee. The insights into life in the Environment Department are interesting those of the African office in the Foreign office are perhaps too disjointed to do their far more serious subject justice but still interesting.
I'm torn on this. On the one hand I quite enjoyed reading from the perspective of a low-level minister in the New Labour government. Many of the frustrations that one expects to exist when faced with massive bureaucracy and the tyranny of career civil servants are there and there is something appealing about quietly venting one's spleen and having preconceptions confirmed. This is an interesting memoir due to his brushes with those who once held some sort of real power. It is reasonably well written and moves at a fair lick, given the dryness of some of the subject matter.
The difficulty is that he comes across as a distinctly unlikeable person - at least to me, but I accept that this is a very subjective point of view. I found myself disagreeing wholeheatedly with his sense of priorities, his outlook - although most of this served to demosntrate to me that I was in fact more political than I thought I was. But I was left with no warmth towards the author as a character. Ultimately he seems disgruntled at the fact that no one else seems to recognise the genius he himself believes he possesses. I admit to a fundamental disagreement on work ethics with the author - this is a man who wants to be a government minister but expects to be able to run a 24-hour country on hours of Mon-Fri, 9 until 5 (although I suspect he'd like to knock off a little early at the end of the week to return to his constituency home without too much commuter drama). Few serious companies are able to operate consistently on that basis, and I'm confident that countries certainly do not. And yet, with his part-time approach, he seems surprised that he has not been propelled to high office at the first available opportunity. This is all the more bemusing for the fact that the people he admires he frequently cites as being thoroughly on top of their brief and having a voracious appetite for work.
The book is worth a read, but I am unclear at this point as to whether I will read the follow-up because I'm just not sure how much more Chris Mullin I can take. But people whose proclivities lie more in line with those of Mr Mullin will find much to enjoy in A View from the Foothills.
Starting with his appointment in July 1999 to the vast, dysfunctional department loosely run by the vast, dysfunctional John Prescott and finishing with his May 2005 sacking from his junior post at the Foreign Office, Mullin's diaries are a fascinating, gossipy account of his time on the lower rungs of the Ministerial ladder, and as the Chair of an influential Select Committee.
Covering one of the most fractious, angry periods of New Labour history - Afghanistan and Iraq loom large, as does the Blair-Brown soap opera, Mullin comes across as honest and, for someone who is supposedly one of the more dogmatic Old Labourites, very fair and even-handed. Friendly with Tories like Nicholas Soames and John Major and continually impressed with a young committee member named David Cameron, he's an incisive critic of his own party.
An admirer of Jack Straw and Tony Blair, but not of some of the ridiculous spin or the party's obsession with micro-managing services through targets, he's even more of a fan (sometimes in an exasperated way) of Tony Benn. Mullin isn't quite as pleased with Blair's prayer buddy George W. Bush - "an intellectually and morally deficient serial killer" or, less viciously, Gordon Brown - "the same old Gordon who still bites his nails; the same mirthless smile, switching on and off like a neon sign."
Mullin is an entertaining writer and an insightful one. True, he can be a little strident and pompous. And at times the book feels unecessarily long but these are fairly minor complaints about a very open semi-insider's account of modern political history.
Enjoyable as his Westminster insights are (and the best of these could have been swiped wholesale from an episode of 'Yes, Minister') and his run-ins with stroppy constituents, he's possibly strongest when writing about foreign countries. Reading his accounts of time spent with his wife's family in Vietnam or his encounters with some of Africa's then-big guns (Obasanjo, Museveni and Kabila Jr.) he may have missed his true calling as a travel writer.
A Member of Parliament has many allegiances: to his constituents, his constituency party, his national party, his parliamentary party - and to himself. The vote on the Iraq War presented Chris Mullin with a fundamental dilemma. He was opposed to the war, so were many of his constituents. But the whips were leaning on him. Defeat was a possibility for his party. Where then should his loyalty lie? To his credit, he cast the solitary Labour vote against. To his relief, it did not result in defeat.
Diaries, the contemporary record, can be more revealing than memoirs which may be refracted through hindsight. Mullin's read as a reliable account of history, in matters large and small, as it was made. At the beginning he is a junior minister in the Department of Environment, frustrated because he believes has liiile effect on anything worth while. He retreats to the back benches but is lured into office again under Jack Straw with responsibility for Africa. Surprisingly, given his frequently stated dislike of pomp and privilege, he seems to relish the challenge the position holds, though once more he complains of helplessness - now in the face of famine, corruption and intransigence.
But it is not the big picture that fascinates here; it is the behind-the-scenes view of daily life and dilatory MPs. Mullin is ambivalent about Blair (a leader who invariably was brilliant in a crisis but still not entirely to be trusted); he is vitriolic in confirming all the bad opinions of Gordon Brown; forgiving of John Prescott's volatility; ultimately, one feels, admiring of the chameleon Straw, politician supreme.
The book holds much to amuse as well as moments of sadness - the death of his father, the decline of his mother. One would like to think there are many more at Westminster in the Mullin mould - hard-working, conscientious, ambitious but not driven. He has a safe seat in Sunderland and, the reader will surely feel, deserves it.
Chris Mullin is the likeable, radical Labour MP for Sunderland South. After years on the backbenches, chairing parliamentary committees, and being a thorn in the side of governments of all stripes, he finally gets a lowly ministerial position in the second Blair administration. This is his diary of those years, until he gets passed over after the 2005 election.
This is a very depressing read. The Blair government is bitterly divided - Gordon Brown comes out of it very badly. Despite all his best efforts, Mullin has very little to show for his years as a junior minister - there seems to be so many obstacles in the way UK government is run and the bureaucracy of the Civil Service to prevent anything changing at all. The whole running of government seems to be pointless.
In the midst of this, we have the attacks on the twin towers, and the push towards war in Afghanistan and Iraq, Despite the pressure for the Whips Office, Mullin votes against the latter. However, Blair, only ever referred to as 'the Man', seems to be in thrall the USA and forces the UK into an illegal war, the consequences of which we continue to live with today. And there seems to be nothing that anyone can do to prevent it.
Mullin comes across as a committed MP, trying to do his best for his constituents but meeting with very little success. No wonder parliament is now full of political wonks whose only desire is to get into the Cabinet or just get lots of consultancies and the money that comes with it. Thank goodness there are still a few Mullins around.
Diaries can be fascinating - none more so than my own - and I am a sucker for contemporary ones like this. Chris Mullin is, on his own perception, a second tier politician of the Blair Years ("The Man") and this is his account of his tenure. It was revealing and brought new insights on people like John Prescott, Gordon Brown, Mandleson and the rest, along with a real view into how parliament works. Or doesn't, more to the point. His life is "Yes Minister" without the humour or "In the Loop" without as much of the swearing. The diary was good company over a few winter weeks, despite the fact that Mullin's anti-Americanism and occasional irritating left-wing posturing got my goat. As diaries go these were better than Alan Clarke's but not, as he himself admits, half as gripping as those of Piers Morgan's "The Insider". Morgan, he states with increduility and disgust, got far, far more access to Blair than he and almost anyone Mullin knew. To me, that sums up politics over the last twenty years. Policy? Who cares? It's only important in spinning it the right way to the media.