Opinion

Claire Simpson: Julian Smith's sacking another win for 'the dodos'

Julian Smith's sacking as secretary of state doesn't bode well for legacy proposals
Julian Smith's sacking as secretary of state doesn't bode well for legacy proposals Julian Smith's sacking as secretary of state doesn't bode well for legacy proposals

It’s rare that any secretary of state gets praise from across the political spectrum, let alone be described by the taoiseach as “one of Britain’s finest politicians of our time”

Julian Smith’s sacking last week in the most brutal cabinet reshuffle since Harold Macmillan’s 1962 ‘night of the long knives’ briefly united most of the main parties who branded his dismissal a mistake. While Arlene Foster, Steve Aiken and Colum Eastwood were keen to point out that they didn’t always agree with the MP for Skipton and Ripon, they all praised his dedication to the job.

Proving that no good deed goes unpunished, Mr Smith was dumped from the cabinet a month after he helped broker the deal which helped restore Stormont following three years in the wilderness.

In a brief tenure lasting less than eight months he managed to push through long-awaited legislation to set up a compensation board for survivors of historical abuse and was in post when equal marriage was extended to the north. Widely viewed as one of the best secretaries of state (and it's a short list) since Mo Mowlam, he managed what two other secretaries of state could not and brought the parties together to stave off direct rule.

Of course he did benefit from a list of predecessors we have all already forgotten. From Owen Paterson to Theresa Villiers, James Brokenshire and Karen Bradley, each appointment seemed more dismal than the rest. Mrs Bradley’s tenure, in which she frequently forgot the dictum ‘better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt’, was a particular low point. Former senior Labour adviser Jonathan Powell, who helped negotiate the Good Friday Agreement, memorably said Mr Smith’s sacking was “a mistake” especially given “some of the dodos we’ve had over the past few years”.

Time will tell whether new secretary of state Brandon Lewis will join the ranks of Britain’s finest politicians or be forever numbered amongst the dodos. Certainly nothing in his political career so far suggests he will act against Number 10. A political journalist I spoke to in his home constituency of Great Yarmouth praised Mr Lewis’s open manner and accessibility but, possibly damning him with faint praise, described him as a "safe pair of hands" - a phrase which sounds more Brokenshire Part II than senior statesman.

Only Sinn Féin failed to join the effusive tributes to Mr Smith - not surprising since the party is already looking down the line at what the sacking will really mean. Rumours that Mr Smith's dismissal was a direct result of the legacy plans in the New Decade, New Approach deal point to a rolling back on commitments already made. Further claims that Number 10 was "blindsided" by the deal smack of some desperate government spin from people who hadn't bothered to look at the agreement or consider its implications.

There's no doubt that certain sections of the Tory party are strongly opposed to the prosecution of any former soldiers who served in the north during the Troubles. Those Tories, who see such prosecutions as vexatious, would like to draw a line under crimes committed by former servicemen in former conflicts from the north to Afghanistan. The effect on victims' families doesn't come into their thinking.

Another of Mr Smith's alleged crimes in the eyes of Number 10 was to describe a no-deal Brexit as being "a very, very bad idea for Northern Ireland", a few months before the eventual withdrawal agreement was signed. Under a government led by Dominic Cummings, stating the obvious costs ministers their job.

Or perhaps Mr Smith's true crime was being called Julian. His Tory colleague Julian Knight, the chair-elect of the Commons culture select committee, complained in a Guardian interview that when he worked for BBC News he was surrounded by fellow Julians, presumably going about their mysterious Julian business. "I’d never met anyone else called Julian until I worked at the BBC and there were five others on my floor," he said. Queue a klaxon sounding in Cummings' office, telling him the government was over its Julian quota and one needed to be culled.