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It was Armstrong’s misfortune, however, to become best-known to the public as the man who admitted, during the “Spycatcher” Trial of 1986 to having been “economical with the truth” in order to protect a confidential government source.
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The trial, an abortive attempt by the British Government to ban the publication in Australia of the memoirs of a former employee of MI5, Peter Wright, brought Armstrong (who had dutifully but unenthusiastically agreed to represent the Government in court) unwelcome fame, and “economical with the truth” entered the popular lexicon.
In fact the phrase was not Armstrong’s own; he was paraphrasing both Edmund Burke and St John Henry Newman who, in his Apologia Per Vita Sua, reminded his readers that the doctrine of “economy or reserve with the truth” was sanctioned by the Fathers of the early Church.
Armstrong, centre, with the Prime Minister Edward Heath inspecting a model of an oil production platform at BP's London headquarters in 1973 Credit: PA
Such self-irony was typical of Armstrong, a man who conformed to the mould of the 19th-century public servant produced by the great Civil Service reforms of the 1850s. Classically educated at Eton and Oxford, disinterested, high-minded, resolutely non-partisan and loyal, he combined impenetrable discretion with a silky intelligence. As his successor, Robin Butler, put it: “He was extremely discreet, and extremely skilful in his discretion.”
Within the Service he was a pillar of bureaucratic orthodoxy who made sure that decisions were arrived at in the right manner. It was he who proposed to Mrs Thatcher, as the Falklands conflict suddenly burst upon the scene in 1982, how she could construct a special committee as the “war cabinet”.
He was not so interested in the modern preoccupation with management, paying less attention to his task as Head of the Home Civil Service, which was added to his Cabinet Secretary role in 1983. He also had a good feel for a “wrong ’un”. In 1983, Mrs Thatcher gave in when he warned her against knighting Jimmy Savile. (Savile eventually got his knighthood only after Armstrong had retired.)
Armstrong was also a man of consensus, a Butskellite and an oiler of wheels. Even his handwriting – a fine italic style – marked out his elegance of mind and expression. He was skilled at statecraft, and at advising prime ministers how to avoid traps. Richard Wilson, Cabinet Secretary a decade after him, described Armstrong as “Thomas Cromwell with a sense of humour”.
To many it seemed extraordinary that Margaret Thatcher should have chosen such an establishment man to be her Cabinet Secretary, particularly as Armstrong had been principal private secretary to Edward Heath. Armstrong, after all, always recalled with pride how, after the conclusion of Britain’s negotiations for EEC entry, he had sat with Heath in 10 Downing Street while the Prime Minister thumped out Beethoven’s Ode to Joy (the European Anthem) on the piano.
It was true that the Eurosceptic Mrs Thatcher and he had very little in common; but he was one of the few in the Civil Service of whom she was in awe. She admired his drafting skill – which led her to call him”the Oracle’ – and his wisdom, though she tried to squash his ambitions as a “sherpa” for international summit meetings, a subject over which she resisted bureaucratic control.