Reviving the lost art of the noble resignation

A politician this week tried to walk away with honour. Could a similar gesture bring down the PM?

Arare thing came to pass this week: a politician offered his resignation, unbidden, and was rebuffed. Lord Bates, an international development minister, had been scheduled to answer an oral question in the upper chamber but arrived several minutes late. His tardy entry to the Lords saw him miss his slot and stand up Labour peeress Baroness Lister, his would-be interrogator.

An apology would probably have sufficed. But on his eventual arrival, Lord Bates approached the despatch box, visibly mortified, and announced that. not only was he “thoroughly ashamed of not being in place” at the appointed time, he would be offering his resignation to the Prime Minister with immediate effect.

Never mind the cynics who point out that it’s easier to stand down from a job you aren’t paid to perform, or that Theresa May refused to accept his resignation. It was a breath of fresh air. While modern-day politicians tend to cling to their posts like barnacles, Lord Bates felt he had neglected his duties and took responsibility for doing so. He should be applauded for trying to revive the lost art of the noble resignation. For there are so few other examples in recent parliamentary history.

Staunch Blairite Estelle Morris may be seen as one. She quit as education secretary in 2002 following a row over A-level marking. She left admitting that she was not up to the role and insisting that she was “not having second best in a job as important as this”.

The next year Robin Cook gave up his role as Commons Leader over Britain’s looming involvement in the Iraq war. He had privately served notice that he would quit if military intervention did not receive UN backing and followed through, resigning when the government decided to proceed with what was, in his view, an illegal war.

Bidding farewell to his former colleagues Tony Blair and Alastair Campbell, he said with sincerity and prescience: “I really hope this doesn’t end up too badly for you.” Eschewing the press, he set out his reasoning to a packed Commons in one of the few speeches in parliament that has outlived its maker.

By way of contrast, his Cabinet colleague Clare Short elicited criticism for interminable public vacillations on the same topic, before also resigning on a slim pretext shortly after the invasion had concluded.

The most recent example of a noble resignation was performed by Tory MP Mark Harper, who managed to hire an illegal immigrant as his cleaner in 2013 while serving as minister of state for immigration. He resigned before the story broke in the Sunday newspapers by releasing a concise statement on a Saturday night in which he apologised unreservedly and then melted into the background. His straightforward approach expedited his time on the backbenches – after three months he returned to government with a better job, his misdemeanour forgiven.

So the noble resignation requires a swift departure, pardonable underlying offence, sympathetic press reaction and continued goodwill on all sides. But observers should be wary of ministers who try to characterise their resignations as honourable.

In 1986, Michael Heseltine stormed out of the Cabinet in a row that ostensibly concerned the fate of a struggling helicopter company but was in fact a tussle for power with then-pm Margaret Thatcher. Few believed the defence secretary when he declared that there was “no place with honour” for him in the Cabinet. He had fired the starting pistol on a leadership bid that had been long in the making.

Mrs May now lives in fear of a Heseltine-esque resignation ending the edgy ceasefire between her party’s warring factions. Her shaky regime is just one excoriating parliamentary speech from destruction. But would that resignation be classed as noble?

Geoffrey Howe put Margaret Thatcher out of her misery in 1990, ending not only her career but his as well. That sacrifice probably won the Tories the 1992 election, but his critics argued that the rancour he unleashed lost them the following three. A resignation from May’s government would be equally divisive, but if she continues to stagnate, could yet prove a necessary and honourable move.