Ministerial Ignorance

In 1981, the Gnome decided that between doing nothing and doing something odd, he would do the odd thing. For the Gnome was of course a Wyvern, and Wyverns make that kind of choices.

In his argument, delivered at the inauguration of the Council which he had just created, the Gnome said these interesting words:

There is one extraordinary fact about a government minister — here or elsewhere — which few members of the public are aware of. This is that his ignorance of the subject he is in charge of greatly exceeds his knowledge of it. Ministers naturally seldom draw attention to this, but I assure you that this is true; anyway, in my case, it is.

This is not a public confession and the position is not as alarming as it looks. In modern society, it is not possible for the head of an organisation to know more than a small fraction of what goes on within it. It may be otherwise in primitive societies. The chief of a small group of primitive savages is better informed of what goes on in his village than, say, the President of General Motors is about his corporation.

The modern executive chief may be armed with a whole battery of computers while the village chief is not, but he knows less. Even so, the village chief may not understand everything, and so he usually has a witch doctor upon whom he depends when events pass his comprehension. Perhaps the only creature who possesses a total information system of which he has complete grasp is the patriarch of a troop of baboons. I have not come across any reference in the literature to the practice of witchcraft among baboons.

He always had that sort of turn of phrase. But somehow, I scent something autobiographical about this short extract — for the Gnome was (as all good little Atlantean children know) witch doctor to the Thunderer.