‘OK, let’s go for full-on publication. We will splash on it, and you and I will take the consequences,’ said Charlie. It was one of the reasons why we all loved him. He had unbelievable enthusiasm and energy, and his tragic early death just a few years later was a massive loss for The Times and journalism. Charlie passed by the news desk and told them: ‘Phil’s doing the splash and it will be a strong one.’
Even though it was early in my Lobby career, I was not in the habit of holding back, and the desk visibly relaxed, knowing that it had a splash for the night. I set about writing it up. I threw in a couple of ‘apparently’s to raise a little doubt in the mind of angry MPs when they read it the next morning, but in all honesty I left no doubt that I had the report in front of me as I wrote.
So under the splash headline ‘Thatcher to be told Fortress Falklands policy is untenable’ – you could get a lot in a three-deck headline in The Times in those days – I wrote that a committee with a majority of Conservative MPs was about to conclude that the Fortress Falklands policy, however necessary in the short term, did not offer a stable future for the islands. I said that although the committee would back the existing policy of keeping a garrison on the islands to defend them against a renewed attack, and of not embarking on any immediate negotiations, it would have to accept that in future talks on a negotiated settlement should not be resisted.
I noted that the committee had visited the Falklands and the United Nations headquarters in New York during its deliberations and I added what I thought was the pretty harmless bit of information that the committee would meet that following Wednesday to consider the draft report.
I suggested that rejection of the long-term efficacy of Fortress Falklands by such a powerful committee, and its willingness to countenance a transfer of sovereignty, was bound to embarrass the Thatcher Government. I said the MPs had concluded that diplomatic, financial, military and economic problems would continue for Britain and the Falklands unless or until a negotiated settlement with Argentina could be achieved.
My story stuck pretty closely to the draft which I still have – and it went on in that vein for many more paragraphs across the front and on page three of the paper. I left the paper for home happy in the knowledge, and not really worrying given the editor’s full backing, that we would cause uproar in the Tory party and in Downing Street that night. I had written the story in such a straight way that it was easy for my colleagues on other papers to follow and they duly did, giving proper attribution to The Times.
Monday morning broke with the story getting massive prominence on the early morning radio and television bulletins. Within the Tory high command there was immediate pressure to discover the source of the leak. There was fury and it was directed not so much at The Times as at the person who – it appeared – had given me the report.
The matter was raised with Speaker George Thomas that afternoon as a prima facie breach of parliamentary privilege. After discussions with the usual channels – the network of whips and business managers from all parties – an emergency debate was set for the Commons that Thursday. Needless to say, the Wednesday meeting of the committee of which I had written did little on the draft. But I was told that MPs spent a lot of the session eyeing each other in the hope that the culprit – the guy who had given it to me – might blush. The report had also been seen by Commons officials. So, in the eyes of the committee chiefs, they could not quite be ruled out, although the overwhelming suspicion among the committee was that it must have been one of them.
I never expected to be the subject of a Commons debate. Thursday arrived and from the Press Gallery – ever so slightly embarrassed to be centre of attention among my reporter friends and the MPs below – I watched as Sir Anthony Kershaw, chairman of the Foreign Affairs Committee, rose gravely to his feet to move that his complaint be referred to the Committee of Privileges. The motion, he said, arose from a report in The Times on 18 April about British policy towards the Falklands. On Thursday last, he said, the draft report was issued to the eleven members of the committee and to six clerks and advisers. Each copy bore the name and initials of the person to whom it was issued. He sounded like a prosecutor opening a case at the Old Bailey. On Monday, said Sir Anthony, an accurate summary of the draft appeared as the lead story on the front page and another page of The Times. The story was clearly based on a close reading of the draft. No one reading both could doubt their ‘consanguinity’, he said, using a word you would be hard put to get into a news story. The story contained more than one unacknowledged but easily recognizable quotation from the draft and followed closely the sequence of paragraphs in the draft. It looked as if Charlie and I were bang to rights. He went on:
Furthermore, Philip Webster, the Times reporter whose name is given in the story, was able to reveal what no other member of the press could have known – that the draft was to be considered by the committee on Wednesday.
He said it had originally been intended to consider it on Monday and a press announcement had been made to that effect. However, because some MPs had wanted to speak in a rival Commons debate that day, it was delayed.
He had enclosed a slip of paper with the draft report telling members the meeting had been postponed to Wednesday. ‘No other announcement was made and Philip Webster could have obtained his information from no other source.’ If I had really been trying to conceal my possession of the report, that would have been a mistake on my part. Sir Anthony went on that it often happened that well-informed journalists, expert in their subject, could and did piece together stories with the help of MPs, the accuracy of which surprised those who thought they were in possession of exclusive information. ‘No, or hardly any, breach of the rules is involved and we turn a blind eye,’ he said. ‘In other instances, if the information improperly obtained is not of great moment to the outside world, again sensibly we take little notice.’ Now Sir Anthony lay my crime before the House:
I submit that this case is different. There has not been an indiscreet conversation in the Lobby, or in one of the bars about a minor matter. A report of a major political controversy, both at home and abroad and inside and outside the House, has been written up from a complete document which the committee has not even considered and which some members had not, in the circumstances, had time to read before the report appeared.
My friends in the pretty well-attended gallery gave me a quiet ‘Hear, hear’ of support as Sir Anthony continued:
I do not think that ignorance of our rules can be pleaded. Philip Webster is an experienced Lobby man, and his source can be presumed to know the rules. In any event on the front page of the draft appeared these words: ‘The circulation of this draft report is strictly limited to members and staff of the Foreign Affairs Committee. The premature disclosure of contents of a draft report has in the past been regarded as a prima facie breach of privilege.’
He added finally:
If the private deliberations of our committee are to be revealed in this way, it will destroy the confidence and trust that have been established between Hon. Members who work together on the committee and make it impossible for the committees to receive evidence, which may be considered confidential from a witness’s point of view or in the area of public affairs, and generally diminish the value of the work of select committees.
I had met Sir Anthony on a few occasions and found him a very pleasant, reasonable man and I could not really argue with anything he had said. Of course, I was the messenger, and the real target, whom he would never find, was my source. MPs generally like publicity but they like it on their terms. This was not on their terms but those of The Times. This was a classic occasion when the job of the reporter conflicted with the