Sir Edward Heath: Operation Conifer

Lord Waldegrave of North Hill Excerpts

Wednesday 17th January 2024 Lords Chamber

[Lord Waldegrave of North Hill (Con)]

My Lords, I am grateful to the noble Lord, Lord Lexden, for enabling some of us who worked with Mr Heath to say a word or two on this subject. I declare my interests in both senses of the word. From 1971 to 1973, I worked in the central policy review staff in the Cabinet Office, headed by the late Lord Rothschild. The unit worked very closely with the Prime Minister and his staff, helping to brief the Prime Minister and Cabinet collectively at 10 Downing Street and Chequers. I spent a good deal of time in both places—usually in the company of the noble Lord, Lord Butler of Brockwell, who I see in his place—preparing for these meetings.

In 1973 I left the Civil Service and joined Douglas Hurd, now the noble Lord, Lord Hurd of Westwell, as his understudy as political secretary to the Prime Minister because Douglas had been selected to fight a parliamentary seat whenever the election came. In those good old days, to which we would do well to return, the extent of the political staff in No. 10 was two—Douglas and myself. When Douglas went campaigning, it was one. That may not have been enough, but I do not think it was necessary to increase the number exponentially.

When the election came in February 1974, which Mr Heath just lost, and throughout the subsequent period when he was leader of the Opposition, I led his private office. During that time Mr Heath was based principally in Wilton Street, where I would see him throughout the day and often late into the evening. When he lost the leadership election, I resigned my post but remained in fairly regular contact with him, at least until I accepted ministerial office under “that woman” in 1981 and was cast into relatively outer darkness.

I would make this point. I saw Mr Heath very close up indeed, at high and low points in his life. I travelled with him all over the United Kingdom, to the United States, to China to meet Chairman Mao and to France on holiday. I used to take him urgent papers to his racing boats. Incidentally, these were always described as yachts, but in reality, they were highly tuned racing machines on which I was forbidden to set foot in case I displaced some vital mechanism. These were not the yachts imagined in the fantasies of his accusers, who, I think, thought of something you might have a cocktail party on in St Tropez. I had to provide malt whisky at the end of the day, wherever we were, and on at least one occasion to knock on his bathroom door to get him get out of the bath and join the party waiting to leave in the election battle bus.

For that period—at least between 1973 and 1975— I was perhaps among the two or three people in the world who knew Edward Heath more closely and more continuously than anyone else. Yet—this is the first, but in a way lesser, point that I want to make—at no time was I ever questioned seriously about him by any of these so-called police investigations. It is true that, during Operation Conifer, a young contract researcher for the police, not a member of any police force, came to see me at Eton, where I was working. They were not a policeman and, without unkindness, I am afraid that I would have to say that the person in question had not the least idea what to ask me about, how No. 10 or the office of the leader of the Opposition worked, what police close protection was, or what life was like for the Prime Minister or leader of the Opposition. I remember having to explain what a private office was and the most basic facts. It struck me then, and strikes me still, as an example of the extreme amateurishness of the whole exercise that a political secretary at No. 10 and then head of the leader of the Opposition’s office was not at any point questioned by a professional about the circumstances of Heath’s life.

This case matters. I agree with the thoughtful speech of the noble Lord, Lord Parekh, that there are arguments on both sides, but it seems to me that the arguments put forward by my noble friend Lord Lexden and by the late Lord Armstrong of Ilminster, one of the greatest public servants of the post-war period, matter. In this post-truth age, we will—indeed, we do—see more of this kind of thing: wild accusations thrown at leading public figures, which are believed by mad conspiracy theorists. If they are not dealt with properly, we will find it even more difficult to tempt good people into public life and into important positions in our democratic life.

The accusations against Sir Edward Heath were, I believe, rubbish; but I do not think that we can just let rubbish lie in, as it were, our public streets in the hope that it does no damage. I believe that the state owes some duty of care to those who undertake the public service on which we all rely. Of course, we should have public inquiries—we are expert at that—to apportion blame and guilt for failure but, I would argue, we should also sometimes deploy state resources to protect those who have served the state from suffering unfair damage. That is why I endorse my noble friend Lord Lexden’s campaign.