TALKING POINT

14 September 2001




TALKING POINT

Now there is a true

Man of Steel to defend

the Blair world.

Geoffrey Hollis

speculates

When the inhabitants of Metropolis got into a real fix they were wont to call for Superman. In a trice mild-mannered journalist Clark Kent would slip into a telephone box for a quick change into the Man of Steel, ready to save the world yet again. Now a new hero has emerged: When beset by seemingly insoluble problems a cry goes up from Downing Street "Where is Superhaskins?"

His latest task is to restore Cumbria, post-foot-and-mouth, which will strain even his giant powers. True to the form displayed by his predecessor he has got off to a sticky start.

It was perhaps ill-advised to give his first Press interviews while on holiday in France. Even worse, they were provocative ("misreported" of course): English farmers were mollycoddled, due for a shake-out, and – quelle horreur – less imaginative than their French counterparts. Superhaskins was doing no more than dip into Oliver Walstons phrasebook. But what is endearingly eccentric coming from the cab of a combine in Norfolk seemed crass and insensitive from a Dordogne cafe.

Number 10 quickly despatched orders to Superhaskins to mend his ways, but the damage had been done. Many commentators questioned the wisdom of putting him on to this particular task. Others asked why the government needed to call on outside help when they had masses of in-house resources? That missed the point of such appointments. They are not meant to produce results but to give the appearance of decisive action in cases where nothing much can be done other than apply the healing hand of time.

To demonstrate, let us look at Superhaskins last project involving agriculture. As chairman of the governments Task Force on Better Regulation he oversaw a study into environmental regulations affecting farmers, published last November. It came up with a list of no fewer than 21 recommendations, which gave the impression of action to help hard-pressed farmers, and was reported as such.

In February the government published its response. This effectively dismissed the whole of the task forces work, but being rather long and turgid received little press coverage.

Three of the recommendations were so general that they did not warrant a plan of action. Of the 18 specific recommendations, five were said to have been tackled already, and another four were kicked into the long grass. The remaining nine were rejected, although in language which could give no offence.

For example, the sensible recommendation to scrap the idea of a pesticides tax was met with: "The government will continue to assess whether a tax or a voluntary approach is the best approach…". Thus none of the recommendations changed the course of history.

It will be interesting to see if Superhaskins manages to come up with any earth-shattering recommendations relating to Cumbria. My guess is that he will produce an imposing list of action points which would either have been done anyway, or will never get implemented. However the appearance of activity should see the government through yet another crisis.

There remains one question: Who is Superhaskins when in ordinary garb? I have an idea. In the last parliamentary session Lord Haskins set the record for the least attendances in the House of Lords by a life peer ennobled by Tony Blair – he did not turn up once. Could this be because he was there all the time, but disguised as a journalist?

Is he perhaps Andrew Marr, the BBCs political correspondent? I dont recall ever seeing them together. If you spot Andrew nipping into a phone box, do watch out; the mystery of Superhaskins needs to be solved.


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