Press The Hutton Button. By The Doktor.
The inevitable reaction of the British Establishment to
potential embarrassment is to appoint a commission of enquiry. This has always
worked in the past, and it has worked again. It has several effects: 1) it
deflects immediate criticism, which can be forestalled by saying in a slightly
pompous and wounded way that all comment on the matter is now inappropriate in
view of the ongoing enquiry; 2) it prevents further independent investigation
of the controversy; 3) the outcome of the investigation is postponed long
enough for everyone to lose interest; 4) the immediate crisis is not only
postponed to some later date but actually defused, as the topicality of the
subject is removed; 5) when the final report is issued it inevitably entirely
absolves anybody in authority from the least tincture of responsibility.
Even though I understand all this, and have understood it as a
strategy ever since the enquiry was announced, I am nevertheless astonished by
the solidity of this particular whitewash, by its depth and opacity and the
clean unbroken, impenetrable surface it has created over the facts. I am
astonished that although the foul-mouthed bully Alistair Campbell behaved so
badly in the aftermath of Andrew Gilligans over-excited remarks that even
he was forced to resign quietly for fear of the eventual fall-out, not a trace
of criticism has been directed towards him.
That Hutton sounded like a
piece of wood is explained by the fact that he also thinks and acts like one.
He exonerates the Government for setting up a game of 20 questions which
resulted in Dr. David Kelly being hounded to death. He exculpates Campbell and
Blair from having any influence on the intelligence dossier cobbled together to
prove the importance of invading Iraq.
The Government, weirdly, denies any
necessity to investigate the total inaccuracy of the intelligence reports it
acted on (once again citing the necessity of awaiting a report, this time from
arms inspectors whose last boss just resigned saying that such weapons did not
exist). No enquiry looks likely to be forthcoming into the damaging, indeed
fatal incompetence of the British Security Services, (despite even
George Dubbleya, to whom such claims matter a good deal less, announcing such
an enquiry in the U.S.A.) which will no doubt continue to be referred to as
the best in the world by the smug, meretricious and ultimately
victorious shits who rule the Nation through a web of cronyism and
Hutton failed even to do the minimum expected of him by the
Blair Government, that is, criticise Alistair Campbell. It is surely clear to
one and all that this oaf was forced to resign after an attack on the B.B.C. of
such ferocity that it made Normal Tebbits example seem reasonable by
comparison for the sole and explicit reason that T. Blair could then point to
the empty chair Campbell had once farted and sworn in when the Grim Reaper
knocked on the door, or perhaps stood respectfully at the security gate.
However, the Grim Reaper has found himself bound and gagged by Hutton and
released in the B.B.C. instead, where he has taken the opportunity to
decapitate the figureheads.
So here we are, and there it is. Even paid-up cynics and
contemptible anarchists such as myself are left gasping in wonder at the sheer
audacity of the operation to date. Next time crisis looms (for what else does
it ever do?) the cry will ring out from the comfy battlements of British
authority Press the Hutton button, whereupon we can all sink back
into our comfortable stupor.
© Winamop & The Doktor 2004
Read old page 94s here.