We are approaching the end of our story, and it may not be out of place in this last chapter to say a few words concerning the Post Office as a whole, worked not by machinery but by human beings. Now what is called “the system” in human concerns influences more or less every individual. If you are a grocer “the system” is with you; the custom, the habit, and the public opinion of your trade will grow upon you, and your individuality and personal enterprise may in the end be crushed by “the system.”
So it is in the Post Office; nearly all the irritation which the public exhibits occasionally towards the Department is due to the fact that the official they have been dealing with is controlled by “the system.” And the larger, the more powerful the body, the greater is the power of “the system” over the individual. The outward and visible sign of the domination of “the system” is “red tape,” and it is found in the grocer's shop as well as in the Post Office.
A lady once wrote to the Controller of the Post Office Savings Bank this simple application: “Please send me a nomination form in the event of me dying in accordance with Rule No. 27.” Now, strange as it may seem, there is a type of official mind which sees nothing ridiculous in her application. Long years of official routine, and the observance of minute regulations on every point of official conduct, have the effect of implanting in many minds so great a reverence for the regulations which govern their occupations that they view it as only natural that life and death should be subject to official rules. It is only a small minority in any condition of life who are not controlled by “the system.” Why should we expect the minority to become a majority just because the persons involved possess Civil Service certificates?
Moreover, it is only a small minority anywhere who can be trusted to use their own judgment always or to work “the system” in the light of their own intelligence, and I venture to say that in the imperfect condition of the human race what is called “red tape” means security for the public. It is better to suffer from some hardship, owing to the personal application of a regulation framed not to meet one individual instance but an average of cases, than to run the risk of your official business being conducted by a man whose guiding star is supposed to be common sense alone, but whose own particular illumination is probably a mere twinkle, scarcely seen by the naked eye.
There is a delightful official phrase which is frequently addressed to complainants, and it runs something like this: “The regulation, which is framed under Act of Parliament, has been drawn up as much in the interests of the public as to safeguard the Department.” Both the public and the Department need to be protected from the capriciousness of the average official—who is also, it may be noted, the average man.
I remarked in a previous chapter that the British Government had a way of contracting itself out of its own laws, and the Postmaster-General often reserves to himself the right to contract himself out of his regulations. The phrase, “the discretion of the Postmaster-General,” is brought into play in cases of hardship, and it is through this loophole that the rigour of “the system” may become modified.
Now, roughly speaking, the discretion of the Postmaster-General can only be exercised in the General Post Office by officials who are in receipt of at least £500 a year, and the flexibility of “the system” depends, therefore, upon the personnel of a small group of men in each department. The rank and file carry out the regulations; certain members of the public consider that in their particular cases the regulations are unjust or inapplicable; they appeal to headquarters, and here it is where the discretionary powers of the Postmaster-General are exercised. I do not say this is a perfect arrangement: the man at headquarters, owing to his training under “the system,” is often afraid himself to use the discretion to which he is entitled, and he too falls back upon the rigidity of the regulations. But it works admirably when the official is equal to his responsibilities, and when the complainant has a legitimate grievance against the Department.
Many grievances against a public office arise, I am convinced, not out of the thing done or undone, but on account of the way complainants are sometimes approached. It is the officialism of the average official man which we dislike. A certain clergyman was once summoned to the presence of his bishop, a dignitary who was known throughout his diocese for his want of urbanity, and on leaving the august presence he was asked by a sympathising brother how he had fared. The clergyman simply threw up his hands despairingly and said: “He casteth forth his ice like morsels: who is able to abide his frost?”
There are too many officials in the public service who resemble this bishop: the influence of “the system” on their official characters has been to develop in them a sort of consciousness of caste. But I have written this story of the Post Office in vain if I have not brought out clearly the human side of the Department, and if I have not shown that, although it is in appearance and working a huge machine, yet the human factor counts in the highest as well as the lowest duties of the Service. And I hope I have proved my case that the Post Office is a live institution and adapts itself readily to the needs of the British people.