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Winter 2001/2

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Issue 42

Confessions of a Crawler

John Newsinger

The Journals of Woodrow Wyatt, Vol. 1
ed. Sarah Curtis
London: Pan Books, 1998, Ł7.99

The Journals of Woodrow Wyatt, Vol. 2
ed. Sarah Curtis
London: Macmillan, 1999, Ł25

The Journals of Woodrow Wyatt, Vol. 3
ed. Sarah Curtis
London: Macmillan 2000, Ł25

Woodrow Wyatt's diaries are quite remarkable. Any normal persons would have tried to conceal such a career of arse-licking sycophancy, but Wyatt positively revels in it. The result is really quite disgusting. Wyatt is revealed as a thoroughly contemptible individual; and the great and the bad against whom he rubbed himself are inevitably diminished. He was a power and wealth fetishist and these are the diaries of a pervert. But are they of any interest other than the prurient? Yes, indeed. First of all, there is what they don't reveal about Wyatt's connection with the secret state and dirty tricks (he had been an important Information Research Department conduit). Much more important is what they do reveal about how contemporary Britain is ruled; and the word ruled is used very deliberately. In the period covered by these diaries, Wyatt was Rupert Murdoch's fixer in London and, in particular, acted as his go-between, first with Margaret Thatcher, and later with John Major. This material is extremely interesting, providing, among other things, an insider's account of Murdoch's embrace of Tony Blair and New Labour. In a country with a more robust democratic tradition what Wyatt reveals would be a scandal, in Britain we have become so used to governments courting Murdoch that it hardly draws comment.

What is there here of Wyatt's connection with the world of dirty tricks? Not much. It seems safe to assume that his editor has either excluded this material or he was conscientious enough not to record it. Tantalisingly, on 2 June 1986, however, he wrote:

'Meeting with conspirators, Brian Crozier, Julian Lewis and a man from Aims of Industry whose name I've forgotten and another man who I never identified. How to make the public realise that Labour is still dominated by the extremists.' (Vol. 1, p. 146)

He is much more open about his connection with Murdoch. (1) Wyatt boasts on a number of occasions in the three volumes about his role in persuading the electricians' union to provide Murdoch with blacklegs (his word) at Wapping. He had strong links with the electricians' right-wing leadership, going back to the mid 1950s and put these to good use. Wyatt is quite open about Murdoch's determination to provoke the print workers into strike action so he could sack them, but what is more interesting is the extent to which the government was a party to this. The print workers walked out on 24 January 1986, but as early as the 18th, a confident Murdoch showed Wyatt around his Wapping plant, telling him that 'the police were ready in case there were pickets and they had riot shields stored in a warehouse nearby and every now and again a police helicopter came over to see that were was no trouble'. Murdoch observed: 'I feel really secure' (Vol. 1, p. 59).

Murdoch and Thatcher

Murdoch's position as a close friend and ally of Margaret Thatcher has been well documented (some of his own staff referred to him as 'Mr Prime Minister'), but Wyatt provides some additional touches. 'Duke' Hussey, it seems, only became chairman of the BBC on Murdoch's strong recommendation (Vol. 1, p. 201). More important was what Murdoch could do for Thatcher and what she could do for him. On 11 June 1987, both Wyatt and Murdoch were at a party at Cliveden to celebrate Thatcher's election victory.

'When Ken Livingstone appeared on TV to blame Labour's defeat on 'the dreadful lies and smears of the media', Rupert cried out, 'That's me!' and was delighted' (Vol. 1, p. 366).

What did he get in turn? His takeover of The Times and the Sunday Times was a straightforward political favour; but, despite this Murdoch remained concerned that some attempt might be made to break up his British media empire. He seems to have found it difficult to believe that any country would tolerate a foreign national holding so much power. Obviously, he seriously overestimated the calibre of the British political class. Nevertheless, there were some worrying moments. On 23 August 1989, Wyatt recorded:

'Rupert is almost in a panic. Tim Bell has told him that Gordon Borrie, head of the Office of Fair Trading, will recommend next week to the Department of Trade and Industry that Rupert's ownership of newspapers should be referred to the Monopolies Commission. I rang Margaret. I explained to her the situation. She said, "Oh Lord, this is terrible". Then after a while she said, "I shall have to think how to tackle it." I rang Rupert back again' (Vol. 2, pp. 150 151).

The reference to the Monopolies Commission never took place and Murdoch survived to prosper. Not so Thatcher. Her downfall was a terrible blow for Wyatt. He had an erotic fixation on her and, according to his daughter, use to write 'doggerel praising parts of her anatomy'. (2) While John Major was never to replace Thatcher in this respect, Wyatt was soon engaged in cultivating him. This was his only value to Murdoch.

Murdoch and Major

The third volume of the diaries chronicles Major's falling out with Murdoch and Murdoch's embrace of Tony Blair. The cause of the parting of the ways was, from Wyatt's account, the Murdoch press's relentless persecution of Tory ministers, including Major himself, and their futile attempts to retaliate. (3) This is not a story that has appeared anywhere else, perhaps because of what it tells us about the realities of British democracy.

On 19 January 1993 Wyatt told Major that the Sun had staked out a house 'where they think you have a girlfriend. They spend thousands watching the house to see if you go in and out'. Leaving aside the unfortunate choice of words, this is remarkable stuff. According to Wyatt, on this particular occasion, Major made clear to him that 'I am thinking that we should make a law that foreigners, non British residents, should not be allowed to own newspapers' (Vol. 3, pp. 162 163). Wyatt, for his part, found himself trying to persuade Murdoch to lay off the government, warning him of the danger of provoking retaliation and helping Labour to power. He warned Murdoch that 'there are people in this country who actually have power to do things to you, Rupert.' Murdoch, who by now had the measure of British politicians, was not convinced and shouted at him that 'he had more power than the government'. Wyatt was beginning to wonder if he had gone 'absolutely Citizen Kane' (Vol. 3, pp. 176 177). What particularly annoyed Wyatt was that while Murdoch regarded politicians as fair game, there was an unofficial understanding among newspaper proprietors that they would not expose or attack each other, a sort of informal privacy law.

In an attempt to heal the breach, Wyatt arranged for Major and Murdoch to meet on 2 May 1994. Here Major 'almost pleaded with Rupert' (Vol. 3, p.359). For the moment, at least, Murdoch seemed amenable and Wyatt felt he had been a party to historic events. The episode was the 'most exciting' of his life (Vol. 3, p. 360). Presumably, as an act of fealty, Major subsequently approached Silvio Berlusconi on Murdoch's behalf and Wyatt duly reported the outcome on 26 June. Blair, it seems, was not the first British Prime Minister to run errands to Italy for Murdoch.

The attempt at reconciliation collapsed early in 1995 when the Murdoch press carried a story about Major's son James and an affair he was having.

'If I had a majority of a hundred and fifty', Major told Wyatt, 'I would crush Rupert Murdoch and make sure he had no newspapers at all' (Vol. 3, p. 481).

But if he had had such a majority, his son would have been left alone. By May, Murdoch was 'in a furious rage' because of proposals to restrict his media ownership. He was, according to Wyatt 'doing his nut' (Vol. 3, p. 514). This provided Tony Blair with his opportunity and on 18 May 1995 Wyatt observed that 'Labour is more friendly to Rupert than the government are' (Vol. 3, p. 511).

Murdoch and Blair

From Wyatt's account the 1996 Broadcasting Act seems to have been the decisive factor in Murdoch's decision to back New Labour. This is an oversimplification. The Tories looked certain to lose the next general election and Blair had convinced Murdoch's closest adviser, Irwin Stelzer, that he was Thatcher's true heir and disciple. The Broadcasting Act was only one factor although an important one. Certainly Murdoch was outraged at the way the Act excluded him from the ownership of terrestrial television. Nevertheless, it seems to have served a symbolic purpose, making clear that New Labour was prepared to be more accommodating to Murdoch's interests than the Tories. In an incredible turnaround, Labour moved to the right of the Conservatives (not the last time) and announced their opposition to the restrictions. As Virginia Bottomley, the then Heritage Secretary, put it, Labour had 'lurched from paranoid terror of large media groups to sycophantic devotion to them'. (4) Blair, however, had succeeded in identifying himself as Murdoch's man.

What is interesting about the Broadcasting Act and the manoeuvring that accompanied it is that it has since disappeared from view. Major does not mention it in his memoirs and Anthony Seldon does not mention it in his massive biography. It is not mentioned in John Rentoul's biography of Blair nor in Andrew Rawnsley's overrated Servants of the People. It is almost as if this is grown-up politics that must not be talked about in front of the children.

The key figure in convincing Murdoch that Blair was his man was Irwin Stelzer (once again not mentioned in either the Rentoul or Rawnsley books). Stelzer, a right-wing economist, had privileged access to both Blair and Gordon Brown before and after the 1997 general election, assuming the role of go-between that had been Wyatt's under the Tories. (5) Wyatt himself complained of how Stelzer was 'haring after Blair' (Vol. 3, p.705).

And then came the fateful day, when Murdoch, behaving 'like a swine and a pig' gave the Sun's backing to New Labour (Vol. 3, p. 722). Wyatt's moment was over. He was to die later that year (7 December). As for Blair, his relationship with Murdoch has become a key element in his attempt to establish New Labour as the political wing of multinational capital in Britain.

What Wyatt's diaries reveal make a complete mockery of any meaningful notion of democratic government. They show, quite unwittingly, that we live in shabby, shameful times, and that the appalling Wyatt was their ideal commentator. The sycophantic self-server is a suitable mascot for the Thatcher, Major and, of course, the Blair years.

Notes

1 In his autobiography, Wyatt praises Murdoch as the person he would most like to be if he wasn't himself. It is most unlikely that Murdoch reciprocated this typically puerile sentiment: Confessions of an Optimist, London, 1985, p. 387.

2 Petronella Wyatt, Father, Dear Father, London: 1999, p. 154.

3 The fear that the Murdoch press inspire in British politicians is admirably put on display in Paddy Ashdown's diaries. On 12 September 1994 he was happily mixing with Michael Howard, Mo Mowlam, Ken Clarke and Tony Blair at a Murdoch cocktail party. Fifteen months later he was on the run from the Murdoch press with the Sun apparently offering Ł50,000 for a copy of the transcript of Chris Mason's police interview (Mason had threatened Ashdown with a knife in Yeovil in November 1995 and apparently alleged the quarrel was over a massage parlour). Ashdown, a former SBS and MI6 officer, described the episode as 'absolutely horrifying': The Ashdown Diaries, Vol. 1, London 2000: pp. 279, 380, 392.

4 Peter Goodwin, Television Under the Tories, London 1998, p. 152.

5 For a recent discussion of Stelzer's role see Neil Chenoweth, Virtual Murdoch, London 2001, p. 275-278.

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