Notes: Written for Akane21 for Yuletide 2024.

A Matter of Definition

"I came off rather well in that first part, didn't I?" Jim observed to the interviewer as the makeup girl darted in to dab away at a few shiny spots. "Fielded all those tricky technical questions about the new Scientific Computing Unit." Especially the one about it buying computer equipment made in his own constituency. "I'm really getting the hang of this TV interview business!"

"I'm glad you came away with that impression, minister," Roger said with a polite smile. He sat forward, affecting a more sternly questioning expression as the lights came up and the cameras pushed back in. "Welcome back. I have with me here tonight the Right Honourable James Hacker MP, Minister for Administrative Affairs."

Jim gave what he liked to think was a dignified, statesmanlike nod as Roger turned towards him, eyebrow raised.

"Minister, some have challenged that the Department of Administrative Affairs is, in fact, something of a non-department - that it is merely duplicating the work of other departments and adding further layers of bureaucracy to already bloated government processes. Is this Scientific Computing Unit just more of the same?"

"Not at all," he said with an easy smile to show he was unthreatened and in control. "In fact, Administrative Affairs is there to take the bloat away from other areas of government, allowing their departments to run more smoothly and efficiently."

"And yours to have all the bloat and inefficiency."

"Yes. Well, obviously, no," he corrected himself with a light laugh. "You see, by centralising all the administrative tasks, we're able to go about them in a far more organised and consistent manner."

"And what administrative tasks would those be?" Roger probed.

"Well..." Jim paused. Paused a bit more. "Well, all those that need to be done more efficiently," he said.

"Such as?"

"Such as... administering... all the various things that... happen to be in need of being administered," he said. "While avoiding, of course, all the unnecessary bureaucracy caused by administering things that don't need to be administered."

Roger sat forward with his trademark penetrating stare. "Minister, perhaps you could clarify for the benefit of those less familiar with the inner workings of government. What exactly, in point of fact, does the Department of Administrative Affairs actually do?"

Jim steepled his fingers together soberly. "I'm glad you asked me that, Roger," he said. "It's a question that many unaware of the work of the department have asked, and it's only fair and right that they should ask it. Indeed, perhaps essential that they do ask it. I've often gone on the record regarding my belief in open government, and I stand by that absolutely. The people deserve to be told what their government departments are doing."

"And what are they doing?" Roger asked.

He paused, thoughtfully composing just the right answer that would sum it up in a concise yet nonetheless profound manner that cut straight to the heart of the matter.

"Administrating," he said.

"Ha! Well, I think we can safely say I saw off that cunning verbal trap," Jim said as he rose from the sofa to turn off the television.

"Yes, fancy a TV interviewer expecting you to answer questions about your job," Annie said, barely looking up from the book she was reading.

"Yes, it's- oh, no, come on, Annie, it's more complicated than that," he protested. "It's such a wide-ranging department, and you know how TV people insist on oversimplifying things."

"Well, shouldn't it be simple?" she said, putting her book aside. "It's the first question you get at a cocktail party, isn't it? 'What do you do?'"

"I run the Department for Administrative Affairs!" he said.

"And what do they do?"

"Well... all sorts of things. I mean, look at the amount of paperwork I bring home on a daily basis." He gestured towards the stack of red boxes lurking accusingly in the corner. "I can hardly expect anyone to distil all that into a simple sentence. I can't even get Humphrey to distil a simple sentence into a simple sentence!"

"Why should it be up to Humphrey to say what you should or shouldn't be doing?" Annie said. "Aren't you supposed to be telling him what you want him to do? You're the minister."

"Yes. Yes, you're right, Annie," he mused, voice growing firmer as he nodded decisively. "I am the minister. It's up to me to decide what the department does. And I shall make it very clear to Humphrey that he can't tell me what to do unless I tell him to tell me to do it!"

"Bernard," Jim said, at an opportune moment when they were alone in his office the next day, "what would you say if I asked you what the department actually does?"

"Er, I'd probably say, 'In what sense, minister?' minister," Bernard said. "Well, I wouldn't say 'minister minister'. I mean, I would say 'minister', minister..."

Jim hastily cut this digression off before it went on all day. "I mean, how would you define the DAA's role within the government? Its overall objectives? What does it, in fact, actually do?"

He appeared to find this a puzzling question. "Well... it's the Department of Administrative Affairs, minister."

"No, Bernard, that's just its name. It's not what it does. What affairs, precisely, does it administrate? What duties does its role encompass? What activities does it pursue on a day-to-day basis?"

"Ah," he said, brightening. "Well, we produce reports on a variety of topics, and based on the findings of those reports we issue recommendations, and then report on the outcome of the recommendations that came out of the previous reports. We meet with various bodies and monitor the publications put out by various other bodies, although those are sometimes in fact actually the same bodies, and compile the findings into reports that go back to those bodies for further input. We liaise with other government departments..."

"Yes, but why? For what purpose? To what end?" he pressed.

"Gosh," Bernard said, looking faintly perplexed, as if it had never occurred to him to contemplate this question before. "Well, to aid you as the minister in your decision-making, I suppose."

"Yes, but what am I supposed to be making decisions about?" he demanded in frustration.

"Administrative affairs, minister."

It was a poor lookout for the day when the arrival of his permanent secretary promised a hope of greater clarity. Jim clutched at the lifeline nonetheless. "Ah, Humphrey. Perhaps you can provide me with more enlightenment," he said.

"I'm sure I can, minister." He cocked his head in earnest enquiry. "On any topic in particular?"

"The minister is having trouble explaining to interviewers what he actually does," Bernard said.

"Oh, dear." Humphrey's forehead crinkled in a mildly concerned frown. "Should we perhaps have it sewn into the lining of your jacket so you can look at it during the break?" he suggested helpfully.

"Not my job title, Humphrey, my remit!" Jim said. He'd rather thought he was here to implement the party's policy objectives as outlined in their election manifesto, but it had soon become clear that this was a hopelessly naïve view of the situation. Much of the work of the department appeared to be have been going on long before he arrived, and to continue even without - or, he sometimes darkly suspected, regardless of - his input. "What would you say to someone who asked you what I actually do?"

"Which someone?" he asked delicately.

"I don't see why that should make a difference!"

"Ah, well, you run the department, minister," Humphrey said with a genial smile. "In, dare I say, a hearteningly smooth and efficient manner."

"And what does the department do?" Jim probed.

"It runs, minister," he said, with an air of finality. "Smoothly and efficiently."

"No. No, this simply isn't good enough," he insisted, sitting back. "We must have a clearly delineated area of responsibility that is ours and ours alone. We cannot leave ourselves open to accusations that we're simply duplicating or adding to the bureaucracy that's already going on elsewhere."

"Well, of course, minister, I quite agree!" Humphrey said, sounding aghast. "Might I suggest we commission a comprehensive study detailing the activities of our department alongside those of all other government departments, in order to properly determine where the exact boundaries lie?"

"No, Humphrey, I don't want to know what the staff are doing, I want to know what they should be doing!" he said.

"Well, surely they're all doing what they should be doing, minister, or else someone would have told them to stop," Humphrey said sensibly.

"Who, Humphrey? Who?" he demanded.

"Well, you, minister," he said. "You're the minister."

"But how can I tell them what to do if I don't know what they're supposed to be doing?"

"Perhaps you should assume that they all know what they're doing, minister," Humphrey said.

"Yes, but I don't know what they're doing!" Jim said. Oh, he'd had enough of this. "Humphrey, I want a clear, unambiguous statement of this department's role and responsibilities that clarifies where it sits in relation to other government departments and exactly what it does and does not do."

"Certainly, minister. That will take six months," he said.

"A statement, Humphrey, not a report," he said firmly. "I want a succinct encapsulation of the DAA's objectives, within the space of no more than one or two sentences, that will allow the media and the public to understand precisely what this department is actually for."

"Oh, you want the concise version," Humphrey said. "That will take nine months."

Jim had learned that the best way to deal with this kind of nonsense was simply not to entertain it. "I don't need you to survey the entire department, Humphrey. Just draft me a statement of what, in your personal opinion, this department should be doing, and then we can compare it to mine."

"I don't have personal opinions, minister," he said, scandalised. "I'm a civil servant!"

"Well, in your experience, then. I assume you'll admit to having that!"

Humphrey scowled as he made his departure, and Jim bathed in the warm glow of the feeling he'd won that one. Yes, he was certainly learning all the tips and tricks to wrangling these hidebound civil servants. Between this and the new Scientific Computing Unit, he was really starting to make some tangible progress around here. He could see the future headlines now: Jim Hacker, Champion of Reform.

He jolted rather guiltily out of his daydreaming a few moments later. "All right, Bernard, what's next on the agenda?" he asked.

"Er, but hadn't we better wait until we have the definition of what we're supposed to be doing, just in case we start doing something we're not supposed to be doing?" Bernard said.

"Just tell me what I'm supposed to be doing, Bernard," Jim said, exasperated.

Honestly, if he hadn't known better, he might sometimes have wondered if the civil service weren't being deliberately frustrating.

"A word, please, Bernard." Humphrey buttonholed him as he was coming out of the minister's office. "What precisely is this madness about defining the purpose of the department in terms simple enough for a minister to understand? Why didn't you stop this nonsense in its tracks?"

"Oh, well, but isn't it a good idea?" Bernard said. "To help the minister advocate for the department and defend its work?"

"You don't defend a department's work by telling people what it is, Bernard!" he said. "Making sure that its borders are hard to distinguish from those of the others around it is precisely what gives it camouflage against predators."

"Predators, Sir Humphrey?" he asked.

"The media, Bernard. Other departments. Advisory bodies. The prime minister."

"Gosh," he said, blinking.

"If people think that they understand the department's purpose, they'll feel empowered to start making decisions. Giving us tasks. Taking them away. They will start to have views, Bernard, on whether our resources are necessary. Would you like people to start having views on whether you are a necessary resource?"

"Well, no," he said, looking perturbed. "But what can we do? The minister's quite set on having a simple explanation that he can give out in interviews."

"Then we must make sure that he has the fullest information possible on which to base this explanation," Humphrey said. "Enough information to make it clear that any attempt to condense the department's work into a short summary will end up being a gross oversimplification. We must obfuscate, overwhelm and muddy the waters, and provide the minister with an explanation so meandering, so bewildering, that he is left with the impression that the true bounds of his remit are beyond mere mortal comprehension."

"Oh, well, in that case, perhaps we should ask the prime minister to explain what he thought the department was for when he assigned the minister to it," Bernard said.

Jim returned to the office the next day in excellent humour. "Ah, Humphrey. Any progress on that definition of the department's objectives?" he asked.

"Yes, minister," he said. "In deference to your desire for a concise summary, I attempted to condense it into the shortest possible explanation that would nonetheless still elucidate all the salient points without the risk of being misleading or omitting any critical core areas of departmental responsibility."

Jim was not entirely surprised when the stack of papers that thudded down onto his desk looked to be about half an inch thick. "Could you simplify that at all, Humphrey, do you think?" he asked mildly.

"More?" Humphrey said, looking incredulous.

"Yes. Give me the simplified summary of the simplified summary."

"It looks after the government's administrative affairs," he said.

Luckily, Jim had foreseen this eventuality. "I happen to have prepared a draft statement of my own," he said. He drew out a single sheet of paper to lay on the desk in front of him and leaned forward to read from it. "We implement government-wide programmes to cut costs, increase efficiency and ensure consistent procedures across departments."

"Yes, and?" Humphrey asked enquiringly.

"And nothing, Humphrey," he said sternly. "Nothing else."

"Oh, I'm sorry, minister, I was under the impression you were going to give the definition," he said.

"That's it," he said. "Cost-cutting. Greater efficiency. Fair treatment for all." All concepts, incidentally, that played very well with the average voter. But that was neither here nor there.

"But, minister, you haven't even defined the scope of all your terms," Humphrey protested. "Cost-cutting for whom? Government-wide in what sense? We need at least some supplementary documentation outlining what we mean by increased efficiency."

"Which will no doubt turn out to be some impenetrable philosophy paper that ends up concluding that up is down, left is right, and slowness is evidence of efficiency!" he said. "No, Humphrey. I think we can safely take it as read that the terms are meant in exactly the way they would be understood by the average man on the street."

"Oh, well, in that case we'll need an appendix to define which man on which street," he said.

"The man, Humphrey, on the Clapham omnibus!" he snapped.

"Er, minister, if he's on the omnibus, then he's not technically on the street," Bernard put in from where he was taking notes on the sidelines. He held his hands out in front of him at different levels, illustrating, Jim gathered, street level versus that of the floor of the bus. "Although I suppose in a sense we're all on the street even while we're in this building, which is itself on the street, so-"

"Bernard, if you'd like to explore the possibilities of being out on the street, I'm sure that can be arranged," Humphrey said rather sharply. He put on a more conciliatory smile as he turned back to face Jim. "Minster..."

But Jim held up a hand to stop him. "No. You've heard my final word on the subject," he said. "This is the definition of the department's aims that we shall be abiding by henceforth, and I shall be taking a very stern eye to any item that crosses my desk that doesn't align with it. There will be no more administrative bloat on my watch!"

"So what do you think, Arnold?" Humphrey asked, as the two of them relaxed over a brandy in their customary chairs in the Athenaeum Club.

"I must confess, it seems most irregular to me," the cabinet secretary said. "Ministers are not traditionally considered to have a purpose. They're merely decorative. Like napkin swans."

"Yes. A lot of folding up involved and a tendency to gradually collapse without sufficient support," he said.

"Well, quite," Arnold said. "Nonetheless, this could set a dangerous precedent. A minister who thinks he knows what his department is supposed to do might well start trying to achieve things. Imagine if the Foreign Secretary decided he had objectives."

"Good Lord." Humphrey needed a stiff gulp of brandy to face that thought.

"This definition business must be nipped in the bud before it has time to spread," he said. "Or else the prime minister may be moved to redefine whether the department needs to exist at all."

Humphrey shrank down in his chair. "But, Arnold, what can we do?" he said. "The minister is quite determined to have his catchphrase he can recite to the press. And it's short enough that even he can probably remember it. He'll be working it into his speeches every chance he gets. You know what ministers are like."

"Like small children who've just learned a new trick," Arnold agreed. "Well, then, you must convince him of the folly of his ways."

"In two days?" Humphrey said, sitting up incredulously. That was more the futile work of a lifetime. "He's bound to introduce it when he makes his speech at the new Scientific Computing Unit." Then he considered what he'd just said, and sat back again, beginning to smile to himself. "Ah, yes. Now there's a thought..."

"Humphrey! Good morning," Jim said jovially as his permanent secretary entered the office. He was prepared to be magnanimous in victory - to a point. "No further requests for alterations to the definition of our objectives, I hope?"

"No, minister. You've made your wishes on the matter entirely clear, and we of course will do our humble best to carry them out. I did wonder, however, whether you'd made any progress on your speech for the opening of the Scientific Computing Unit?" he asked.

"Yes. In fact, I thought I'd start out strong by introducing our department's aims right out of the gate," he said. "Consistency, efficiency, government-wide cost-cutting. That should play well with the voters- er, ah, help educate the public about the vital and important work our department conducts."

Humphrey drew in a subtle breath. "Well, that's certainly a bold move if I may say so, minister," he said, looking faintly pained.

"My God, is it?" Jim said, alarmed. He wasn't sure where that fell on the scale from 'controversial' to 'courageous', but it didn't sound good. "But the Scientific Computing Unit is a triumph for the department, isn't it?"

"Well, yes... and no, minister," he said diplomatically. "I wondered whether you'd considered how well it truly aligns with our department's stated goals. For instance, it can hardly be considered a cost-cutting measure when it is, in fact, extremely expensive."

"Yes. Well, technically," Jim was forced to concede. "But new technology is very expensive. And it creates much-needed jobs in a marginal constitu- er, depressed area, as well as purchasing computer equipment made in Birmingham East! And other equally important parts of the country."

"Yes. I feel I should point out that job creation and supporting British companies, while both certainly laudable aims, are perhaps more matters for the Department of Trade and Industry, or indeed the Minister for Employment," he said.

"This is nit-picking, Humphrey," he said sternly. "Perhaps it does require a degree of investment to get up and running, but its whole purpose is to increase efficiency. These new computers allow fantastically complicated calculations to be run many times faster than the old-fashioned methods currently in use across the government."

"Yes. Unfortunately, the fact that it was built in a depressed area up north means that it's rather far away from any of the civil servants who need the results of the calculations, so the figures have to be couriered there from London to be typed into the computers and then the resulting printouts couriered back," Humphrey told him.

"Well, couldn't they do it over the phone?" he said.

"They could, but given that these are, as you say, fantastically complicated calculations, the odds of human error would greatly reduce the efficiency."

"Then give them fax machines!" he said.

"Yes, but, minister, fax machines are also expensive, and neither the facility nor its procedures have been designed to incorporate them, meaning that making a change to the system at this late stage would both cause the project to come in over-budget and also create much confusion and introduce delays."

"Bringing the efficiency down yet again," Jim said, fighting the urge to bite his nails. Oh, dear, this wasn't sounding very good at all. "But it seemed like such a success at the time. And I have to make a speech telling everyone how wonderful it is tomorrow afternoon!"

"Oh, but it is, minister!" Humphrey assured him. "It provides employment for three hundred administrative staff in a neglected area of the country, helps British industry, and it places our country at the forefront of modern computer technology. What it doesn't do, however, is cut costs or increase efficiency, and I'm afraid since only certain select groups within the government need to perform these kinds of calculations, it doesn't quality as a government-wide programme or provide equitable and consistent access to the technology across all departments, either."

Jim paused for a few moments, sitting back from his desk to reflect. "You know, Humphrey, I've been thinking," he said finally. "I wonder if we might not have been overly hasty trying to condense the valuable work of this department into too simplified a summary."

"Minister?" Humphrey said enquiringly.

"In fact, I think we sometimes give the public too little credit for their ability to assimilate complex information," he said, warming to his subject. "I think we should show them the respect of providing a full and comprehensive outline of the department's activities that they can be pointed towards if they want to know more about what we do." He nodded decisively. "Humphrey? Commission a report into the full scope of the DAA's activities. That should take, what... six months?"

"About six months, yes," Humphrey said, nodding along with him as he spoke.

"Of course, I'll have to rewrite my speech for tomorrow, but I think it's important that we be properly scrupulous about avoiding any risk of misleading the public, don't you?" he said.

Humphrey smiled and nodded. "Yes, minister."