Authors: Rosa Prince
Standing Down (11 page)
In 1999, Mr Dobson was asked by the Prime Minister to resign from Parliament in order to become Labour’s candidate for the newly created post of Mayor of London.
The ensuing contest turned into a farce. Ken Livingstone, who had been leader of the Greater London Council until its abolition in 1985, also sought the nomination and when he was unsuccessful, ran as an independent. He won the contest in 2000, thrashing Mr Dobson.
Mr Dobson says he is not angry at Mr Blair for persuading him to take part, but is bitter at what followed, claiming the Prime Minister went back on his word, having promised he could return to the government if the mayoral run did not work out:
I always try to be fair to Tony Blair. Like, whatever reservations anybody may have, I don’t believe anyone else could have pulled off the Good Friday Agreement [which brought peace to Northern Ireland in 1998].
All the characteristics about the charm and making apparent promises, convincing promises that turn out not to be delivered, all that ‘now you see it, now you don’t’, it was absolutely crucial.
He didn’t really, to be honest, twist my arms. He desperately wanted me to, but the idea of being the Mayor of London and being your own person did considerably appeal to me.
By the time Mr Dobson returned to the Commons at the 2001 election, the world had moved on and there was no place for him in Mr Blair’s top team. ‘One of the problems was that by then they were doing things that I didn’t agree with,’ he says. ‘It may be I never was in the loop.’
In 2003, Mr Dobson was among a minority of Labour MPs who voted against the government’s decision to go to war in Iraq.
He also took a stand against the more authoritarian aspects of the response to 9/11, campaigning against ‘things like innumerable days of detention without charge and all that sort of thing’.
He says:
I don’t think my position has changed. My position in relation to New Labour is New Labour was a response to our spectacular lack of success over a long period of time and was perfectly legitimate and did address a lot of our problems and got in touch with opinion, which is in politics to be welcomed.
So in that sense I was never a denier of the merits of New Labour. But the world has moved on. I think Iraq did terrible damage to the image of the Labour Party. I remember before he resigned [the late] Robin [Cook, the former Foreign Secretary, who resigned over Iraq] saying to me that he’d talked to Tony about it and he said to Tony, if you go ahead with this, it will ruin your reputation forever. And it did.
Mr Dobson was more comfortable under the leadership of Gordon Brown from 2007, despite being aware of his limitations as Prime Minister, and latterly Ed Miliband.
He says:
One of the problems with Gordon was he didn’t break away from going along with some of the things he hadn’t really approved of.
If you’re advocating something that’s not really you, I think you have a bit of difficulty really. I’ve always been a fan of his [Mr Miliband]. I think he’s an exceedingly thoughtful young man and in view of the recent history of this country, having people who have a bit of a think rather than instant opinions on stuff is to be welcomed.
He’s vastly underappreciated. I think in the end the public will appreciate someone who thinks about stuff, rather than [a] Flash Harry.
As he prepares to leave the Commons, Mr Dobson’s considered assessment of Parliament is not exactly glowing:
Over the years I’ve developed a lower and lower appreciation of the place in terms of effectiveness.
Our record on passing laws that achieved what it was claimed they would achieve when a minister introduced them [is] absolutely pathetic, quite frankly.
I’m not saying the ministers introducing them were being cynical, it’s just they’re not well thought out in advance, they’re fairly badly drafted, and the scrutiny is pathetic.
I think it leads to a fundamental disrespect of Parliament that you can’t agree workable laws. Even if you don’t agree with the laws, at least the bloody things ought to work, and so frequently they don’t.
***
CV
Born in Yorkshire; attended the London School of Economics; worked at electricity board and served as leader of Camden Council before becoming local government ombudsman.
1979: Elected MP for Holborn & St Pancras South
1981: Becomes shadow Education Minister
1983: Becomes shadow Health Minister
1987: Becomes shadow Leader of the House
1989: Becomes shadow Energy Secretary
1992: Becomes shadow Work and Pensions Secretary
1993: Becomes shadow Transport Secretary
1994: Becomes shadow Environment Secretary
1997: Becomes Health Secretary
1999: Stands down to run for Mayor of London
2001: Returns to Commons
2014: Announces he will be standing down at the 2015 general election
Frank Dobson is married to Janet and has three grown-up children.
Elfyn Llwyd
, sixty-three, was Plaid Cymru MP for Meirionnydd Nant Conwy (1992–2010) and Dwyfor Meirionnydd (2010–15).
‘Tony Blair is a war criminal. I should have impeached him when I had the chance.’
***
We’d held the seat since ’74 so the likelihood was that I would hold it. Everybody was saying it’s a safe seat but you question that. And when you have a bad afternoon’s canvassing you think, ‘God, is this going to be a struggle?’ But it was a fascinating time, the first election.
We had snow, we had blazing sunshine, and because I was not in any leadership role in Plaid at that time I was able to devote all my time to the local area, and I canvassed thousands and thousands of properties and people and I lost nearly two stone in weight. So I was really fighting fit by the time I got here.
I could give you the blurb and say, ‘Having been a lawyer and appeared at the High Court, I took it in my stride’ – but that’s not quite true. If I’m honest, it was quite awesome.
It’s quite an overwhelming experience, especially walking into the chamber for the first time. It was an inspiring thing.
I was adamant that we’d been badly misled [over the Iraq War] and that in misleading Parliament many tens of thousands of people had lost their lives, so I felt that something should be done.
We then, together with my colleague Adam Price, and Alex Salmond, hit on the idea of impeachment. We did our research, we saw the House authorities and of course the House authorities said, ‘Oh no, no, no, it’s fallen into disuse.’
And we said, ‘No, it’s still there, it’s on the statute book so therefore it’s not fallen into disuse, with respect.’
They just took a step back and we began the impeachment process. We were supported by members from all parties and my huge regret was we ran out of runway because an election then intervened and we should have picked it up and gone on again.
The first few years, when we had the Maastricht debates and we were up all night three nights a week, I was beginning to question whether entering Parliament had been a sane decision.
It was relentless, it was day after day after day. In their wisdom, the rail authorities decided to cancel the last train on Thursday nights so I then had to wait ’til proceedings finished and then drive home.
I remember one day slurring, and a woman looking at me in the office as if I’d been drinking all night and I said, ‘Oh, sorry, I can see what’s wrong. My eyes are bloodshot and I’m slurring a bit. It’s because I haven’t slept properly for two weeks.’
I’ve done twenty-three years. I’ve had this abiding love for law. I don’t know why, some people say it’s like smoking: you know it’s bad for you, you know you’ve got to give it up some time, but you’re not sure when. I just want to go back and practise law.
The other reason why [is] my wife – she’s never stood in my way – said, ‘Would you consider not standing next time?’ reminding me, not that I needed reminding, that I have two wonderful grandchildren in north Wales and one equally lovely grandchild in Cardiff. I call them the orchard of my eye. All three little girls. They’re just fascinating, they’re wonderful. And I’ll be able to see them.
I will have a strange feeling. Obviously I’ll be at the local count with my successor. I will go and I’ll be proud to be there. She’s an excellent candidate.
After that I will retire home, make a big pot of tea, feet up, light a cigar and just watch it. It will be the first election night since my student days when I really will be staying up all night to see the result.
I’m appalled at the idea of retirement, it just scares me rigid. I’m lucky in that I can seamlessly move from this back into the law.
Find a couple of subjects that you want to specialise in, identify people who are like-minded. Do not be afraid to cross party boundaries in the interests of making changes, and do not be tribal whatever you do.
There will be people who will offend you, as with any walk of life, but they are very, very few and far between. And just realise that you have an opportunity you need to grasp.
***
the full story
With a family who had always taken a strong interest in Welsh nationalism, it felt natural for Elfyn Llwyd to join Plaid Cymru at a young age. His belief in the cause strengthened in 1965 at the age of fourteen with an infamous episode known as ‘the drowning of Tryweryn Valley’, when a Welsh-speaking village was submerged under a reservoir supplying Liverpool.
He says:
One of the triggers was the drowning of Tryweryn Valley against the wishes of the whole of the people of Wales. That was, I think, a totemic moment that made people say: ‘We need to stand up, and we need to control these things.’ If ever there was an example of why it was necessary, that was it.
Although Mr Llwyd was active in student politics, he was forced to put his interest to the side after qualifying as a solicitor in the early 1970s, when the head of his firm told him to choose either the law or politics.
While his legal practice thrived, he kept a hand in with Plaid but didn’t step up his involvement for more than a decade, when an ‘opportunity not to be missed’ came along, as his home constituency of Meirionnydd Nant Conwy fell vacant.
He says:
I threw my hat in the room, was lucky enough to get the nomination and was elected in 1992. It was the area where I was born and brought up and it’s been a tremendous privilege to represent [it].
It was a fairly safe seat but it was a strange time because I’d never stood for any election. I wasn’t presumptuous.
It was a precarious step because I was taking a pay cut, although as my wife said at the time, ‘Whatever happens, you’ve got to try. If you don’t get it, tough, but if you don’t try you’ll always regret it.’
Arriving on his first day at Westminster, Mr Llwyd was one of just four members of the Plaid Cymru parliamentary party:
Actually, it was a good thing. There were two new ones and there were two experienced ones, and the two experienced ones said, ‘Our door is open, whenever you want advice, just come in straight away.’
We two came up to speed far faster than our colleagues in the larger parties because we had the expertise available on tap, they were there to help us.
Despite being in a minority, Mr Llwyd found Parliament a friendly place:
More so in the early days than now. Time was you could go to the smoking room after the last vote, have a glass of scotch or a glass of wine and a chat. You’d speak with virtually anyone.
I remember the first Parliament, very convivial, the second one too, but it seems to have slipped away now. The so-called ‘family-friendly hours’, which were anything but that, were the greatest sleight of hand that Tony Blair performed.
I don’t know who, apart from the executive, benefits. The worst feature is we don’t socialise together any more.
I may disagree vehemently with people on policy, and they undoubtedly will with me, but it doesn’t prevent us sitting down and having a cup of tea and a chat.
Mr Llwyd found he was able early on to make a difference:
I have always had a deep interest in the law relating to children. First thing I did was incorporate in domestic law one of the tenants of the UN Charter for the Rights of the Child, which is that children in a divorce situation are entitled to be heard. It was passed then in the Family Law Act 1997.
I fought very hard to get it there because I’d seen agreements where people fought hard to agree on everything – property, even the cat and the dog – and nobody seemed to ask the children where did they think their best interests lay.
I was the first person in Parliament to mention the need for a children’s commissioner, initially for Wales [and] it did come, and I’m proud of that.
I was also on the Welsh select committee, had a deep interest in agricultural matters, became a campaigner against organophosphate dips, which were very, very dangerous. I was kept busy.
The early years in Parliament were tough ones, however, as John Major struggled to keep his fractious Conservative government together with a shrinking majority and in the face of a rebellion over the Maastricht Treaty on further integration with Europe, leading to a long series of late-night votes.
Mr Llwyd says:
Because I was the youngest of the four [Plaid MPs], I had to remain awake all night to ring my colleagues. Typically the crucial vote came around 5 a.m., so I had to call them at 4 a.m. to get them in to vote.
I well remember leaving Parliament one night at 12.40 p.m. to go to north Wales, getting home at 4.30 a.m. or something like that, grabbing two or three hours and then [going back] into the office.
It was relentless. You’d have commitments all day on Friday, all day on Saturday. It would be Sunday and I’d be too blinking tired to do very much. At the time my kids were nine and twelve and it was tough for the family, no doubt about it.
But by the time Mr Llwyd was re-elected in 1997, he was enjoying life in the Commons, so much so that he found himself the leader of his little Plaid group:
In 1997 three of my colleagues stood for the National Assembly for Wales. The most senior two were very likely to get elected, and my friend and colleague Cynog Dafis [the MP for Ceredigion] put his name on the regional list, for all I know to increase our vote. Careful what you wish for – he was elected.
In the kingdom of blind men, the one-eyed man is king. We couldn’t all disappear. I agreed I would be the anchorman here, at least for the foreseeable future.
His role placed him in the somewhat strange position of conducting his career in the country he was pledged to break away from. He says he had hoped ‘at some point’ he might have followed his colleagues to the Welsh Assembly, but that the moment never came. ‘At the end of the day this is where the legislation is made,’ he says of the Westminster Parliament. ‘We’re only just bordering on the full legislative powers in Wales now. And remember that in the early days of the National Assembly, it was quite a toothless body.’
In 2003, in his role as party leader, Mr Llwyd was able to play a leading role in the opposition to the looming war in Iraq.
He says:
I had come to the conclusion that we were badly misled even at the time. The dodgy dossier [which made the case for war, written by No. 10 head of communications Alastair Campbell] was probably the least persuasive document in British political history. It was complete nonsense.
Anybody who’s able to read would be able to come to that conclusion, despite the special pleading from Tony Blair, the supreme actor.
After the invasion, when the promised weapons of mass destruction failed to materialise, Mr Llwyd and his fellow nationalists felt strongly enough that they began impeachment proceedings against Tony Blair.
The move led to some awkward moments, particularly during his biennial visits to the Cenotaph when he took his turn representing the nationalists at the Remembrance Sunday events alongside the other party leaders. The Prime Minister would nod at him, but did not discuss the case.
He regrets that the impeachment process was allowed to die away at the 2005 election, and is not confident about the likelihood of the Chilcot Inquiry providing closure when it finally reports back after the 2015 general election:
I believe Tony Blair has a lot of answers – we need a lot of answers from him – and whether or not Chilcot delivers is another thing. Don’t hold your breath.
I think his undoing was to hitch his wagon train to [US President George] Bush far too early in the process and then there was a momentum and he couldn’t jump off.
That mistake led to hundreds of thousands of innocent lives being lost and killed. I think he’s a war criminal. At its inception it was a mistake, but then he should have been man enough to realise it was a mistake and to jump off the wagon train and say, ‘Look, George, no, there are no WMDs so therefore there’s no imminent threat, so therefore there’s no lawful intervention of regime change. It’s unlawful under international law.’
My colleagues in the Labour Party and in the Conservative Party who voted for the war, 90 per cent of them now regret it bitterly.
They were taken by Tony Blair’s polished rhetoric. But I do not criticise those who voted the other way. They did it for the best of motives and it was a difficult decision to make and some are still wrestling with their consciences.
Mr Llwyd’s final years in Parliament have proved among his most productive and enjoyable:
I’ve had two laws passed in the past five years, and I’m beginning to think I should just hang on and not stand down.
In 2010 I had the stalking law through, and last Monday I had the coercive control element of domestic violence go through. Those two will make a difference I think, might save lives in actual fact, so I’m pretty proud of that. It’s nice to go out on a pretty high note.
The other high point: the first foreign holiday my wife and I had was to Greece. It was a lovely holiday. I remember standing in front of the Greek Parliament and looking up and thinking, ‘now this is the cradle of democracy’. It electrified me looking at this place.
I’m proud to say that in March this year I spoke in the Greek Parliament building. I represented the Justice Committee in a conference of chairs of justice committees of European parliaments. I’m quite proud of that. It was a great feeling.