Review – One Man, Two Worlds: Richard Needham on the tricky business of politics

Richard Needham: One Man, Two Worlds: Memoir of a Businessman in Politics (Blackstaff Press), £14.99

In 1979, the new recruits to the Tory Parliamentary Party were an interesting and talented bunch. They included John Major, a future Prime Minister, eight other men who eventually joined the Cabinet, Matthew Parris – and Richard Needham, who has just published his memoirs. He was as exotic as any of his contemporaries. The holder of an Irish peerage – the Earldom of Kilmorey, which neither disbarred him from the Commons nor entitled him to sit in the Lords – he also descended from two Jewish Lord Mayors of London.

At various stages, several of his ancestors had been significantly rich. Yet they lost everything, not in any spectacular crash, but out of sheer inability to adapt to current economic circumstances. Richard wanted to rebuild at least some of the family fortunes, partly to subsidise his own political career.

At Eton, he was a promising actor; one suspects that he might have made a go of a stage career. He also flirted with the law. He could have been a formidable thespian advocate, famous for infuriating judges in courts up and down the land. But he was drawn to business, hence the title of this book: “One Man, Two Worlds”.

He was a successful businessman, both on major boards and in building up his own companies. He also thought hard about how to motivate employees, identifying two conflicting theories, X and Y. According to theory X, workers were only interested in money: beyond the pay packet, there was no means of recruiting their loyalty. Theory Y believed that charismatic leadership would inspire a workforce, leading to job satisfaction and enhanced performance. Needless to say, Richard adopted the Y approach. He blames much of the UK’s poor post-war performance in manufacturing on the widespread adoption of theory X methods.

Yet, there were other factors. Many British managers were indeed demoralised, partly because of left-wing trade unions. The Morris Minor was meant to be Britain’s answer to the Volkswagen Beetle. At one stage, there seemed no reason why half the world’s Mercedes should not have been Jaguars. But the Unions would not allow it. Until Margaret Thatcher broke union power, there were severe limitations on managers’ ability to manage. No benign theory could have put that right, and by the time Thatcherism did, it was too late for much of the former manufacturing base.

Richard gives interesting portraits of two important businessmen. On Arnold Weinstock, he is a sceptic, portraying the panjandrum of General Electric Company (GEC) as a scrooge-like banker masquerading as an entrepreneur. It is a convincing account of corporate failure. GEC was involved in enough defence procurement cock-ups to entitle Lord Weinstock to call himself a Hero of the Soviet Union. The company was running down even before it fell into the hands of new Labourites, who finished it off.

James Dyson earns the author’s unstinting admiration. But, as Richard acknowledges, this is nothing to do with management theories. Sir James owes his success to the force of personality and brainpower.

Apropos scepticism, Richard Needham is an unrepentant Tory wet. History is written backwards but lived forwards. We now take Margaret Thatcher’s transformative successes for granted. Back in 1979, that was not the case. In those days, if you had predicted that she would tame the trade unions and the nationalised industries, revive the animal spirits of the middle classes and help Ronald Reagan to win the Cold War, it would have been assumed that you had been sitting far too long in the sun without a hat.

Many of Richard’s bright contemporaries believed that it would not be long before she would either have to compromise or go. By the late Eighties, and before everything went pear-shaped, plenty of Tories had accepted that they had been wrong and she right. Not Richard: although he did not work with Michael Heseltine until later, he was always a Heseltinian.

The then Mr Heseltine would often contrast the Government’s approach to agriculture and industry. A lot of his colleagues owned land. They understood it, and they ensured that the government intervened early and often. As a result, UK agriculture was highly successful. But hardly any of them knew anything about industry. Indeed, they were afraid of it. So when some guru told them that on no account should government intervene in industry, they were relieved and delighted. Outcome: poor industrial performance.

Richard Needham avoided a conflict with Thatcherism because he spent five years as a minister in Northern Ireland, which had to be exempted from Thatcherite rigour because of the need to buy peace. Richard tried to ensure that this was accompanied by some value for money and the regeneration of Belfast owed much to his efforts. That will be an enduring legacy.

A phone call nearly brought his ministerial career to a premature end. In November 1990, talking about Mrs Thatcher on a car phone to his shrewd and entrancing wife Sissy, Richard said: “It is time the cow resigned.” The call was intercepted; the tape was published. Although this was a horrible embarrassment, Richard had, in fact, been lucky. A few weeks earlier, he had decided that his language had become far too industrial. He told his private office to fine him every time he used a rude word. The proceeds would go to the office Christmas party. It worked.

By the time of the phone call, Richard was feeling broke while his officials looked forward to enhanced quantity and quality for the Christmas booze-up. So Richard did clean up his vocabulary, which saved his job. As it was, his apology was accepted. If he had said “f***ing cow,” he would have had to resign.

He never made the Cabinet. In John Major’s words, he “was talented, irreverent and – from time to time – high risk.” Prime Ministers and whips are usually drawn to safe pairs of hands. Richard’s were, in fact, safer than superficial appearances would suggest, but he would never win the approval of the better-notters. As it was, his record in Ulster and during his time as trade minister was a worthy one: worthier than that of many a cabinet minister over the years.

He has written a good and lively book. Anyone interested in politics should read it and will enjoy doing so.