24 The Times MagazineWe skim through the White House’s
cast of characters. Jared Kushner is indeed
“expressionless”, he says. Bannon is “scruffy”:
“I once saw him out of that wax jacket, in a
relatively smart suit and tie, and he confided,
‘I am so uncomfortable.’ ”
He draws similarities between Boris
Johnson and Donald Trump, using the same
words to describe their appeal: “charm”;
“charisma”; “stardust”. What about the
so-called special relationship? He pulls a face.
“President Macron [of France] made a big bid
to be Trump’s main man in Europe,” he says.
“I think that’s all gone sour.” So who? “I’m
not sure Trump feels he needs a single close
friendship in Europe. There’s no evidence
that’s important to him.” He pauses. “But I do
think that if Trump wins the election, then he
would hope that it would develop with Boris.
I think he sees Boris as a sort of kindred spirit.
How Boris sees him is another question.”
For instance, he says there is zero chance
that Anne Sacoolas will ever be extradited
and stand trial for killing Harry Dunn, the
teenage motorcyclist she hit with her car
while driving on the wrong side of the road
in Northamptonshire last year. “Never say
never, but you would need a decision from the
highest level to overturn what is classic State
Department policy. I just don’t see them doing
it. If he had been hit not by an American’s car
but one of a number of other nationalities, the
same thing would probably have happened.”
Despite Johnson insisting that he hadn’t
wanted Sir Kim to resign, his departure is part
of a pattern at the top of Whitehall, he says.
“There has never been a time, at least that
I can remember, when you have seen, what
is it now?” He counts them out on his fingers,
“1-2-3-4 permanent secretaries and a cabinet
secretary go through a sort of trial by briefing
to newspapers and then leave. The scale of
it seems unprecedented.” They include Sir
Philip Rutnam, former permanent secretary
at the Home Office, Sir Mark Sedwill, cabinet
secretary, and Sir Simon McDonald, who
announced he was leaving “at the request” of
Boris Johnson. Sir Richard Heaton, permanent
secretary at the Ministry of Justice, has also
resigned. And on the day we meet, mid-exams
fiasco, there is a briefing against Jonathan
Slater, permanent secretary in education, in
one of the papers. Days later he is sacked.
“Civil servants can’t go out and say what
they think, so it’s a free hit for those doing the
briefing. I believe it could be stopped if senior
ministers were to say, ‘You have to stop doing
this.’ With all the challenges in this period in
history – Brexit on top of the virus on top of
other stuff – is civil service reform really the
biggest priority? We’ll see how it looks in
three or four years.”
But the diplomatic service now is different
from the one he joined. “It’s very woke,” hesays, chuckling. In what way? “The new
generation have much higher expectations
of how managers will behave towards them.
They’re strict on bullying. It’s changed a lot.
In my day, you had to be quite robust.”
Sir Kim gives the impression of being
open, cosy, even indiscreet, while at the same
time there’s a sense that what he reveals is
just the tip of the iceberg. He’s funny, saying,
for instance, of the Andy Warhol painting
of the Queen that adorns the Washington
embassy and provides the backdrop for official
photographs, “If I had money, I wouldn’t spend
it on that.” His favourite phrase is, “We are
where we are.” In many respects he is the
diplomat of an era of distilled Englishness, and
that includes a cold and complicated childhood.
His father was Alastair Macphee Darroch,
an excellent sportsman who won a scholarship
to study at Loughborough University. There
he met Sir Kim’s mother, Enid – he is at a losswhen asked how they met or whether she was
at the university too.
What he does know is that his father took
a job as an education officer in Nairobi in late- Sir Kim was a baby and his mother was
pregnant with his brother, Neil. Of Kenya, he
remembers only two perilous experiences:
a cook sweeping up him and his brother
because, close to where they were playing,
“was a big fat puff adder”; his father throwing
a stick at a crocodile not 20 yards from them
and it opening its massive jaws.
Next, he and his brother, aged six and four,
came back to the UK without their mother.
His name was changed from Nigel, which had
been his mother’s choice, to Kim (his father
was a Rudyard Kipling fan). Where was his
mother? He shrugs. His father was “very
English” and never mentioned her. No letters
came (although Vanessa reminds him of a
postcard). In the book is the only photograph
that exists of mother and son together: he’s
a toddler; she’s slim, tall. Something about her
expression is stinging. Until he saw it, “I would
have found it difficult to describe her.” He
adds, “What memories I have are of her and
my father arguing.” Were they violent? “No.”
Do you remember what was said? “Not at all.”
Did she have mental health issues? “No, no.”
Didn’t he ask his father, “Where’s Mummy?”
“Don’t think so.” Vanessa cuts in, “You must
have done, Kim, only you wouldn’t remember.”
Does he think that by bringing them back
to England, his father was doing something
his mother didn’t want? “He’s dead now, and
I never really asked him.” The idea that
she may have abandoned him, he claims not
to mind. “People find this surprising. And I
suppose it is. I’m not saying this just to avoid
the story. I don’t recall being traumatised by
not seeing her. I can’t tell you why. There was
one brief visit after we returned to the UK,
which my brother found quite traumatic.” He
admits feeling repelled by his sibling’s hysteria.
“This sounds heartless, but I remember thinking,
‘Well, I don’t feel upset.’ ” Perhaps that made
him perfect fodder for the Foreign Office?
“Yes. Or a serial killer. One or the other.”
Later, he says, “She could have come back
to England and she chose not to. So.” If she
turned up today, would he welcome her? “Yes.”
But, “I’d wonder what she’d been doing in the
past 60 years.” Vanessa finds it all mysterious.
She does know that Kim’s brother tracked
down their mother in South Africa and set
up a meeting, “But [she] didn’t turn up. It was
just her husband, who was a bit embarrassed.
I think maybe she couldn’t face him.” Sir Kim
has two half-sisters and when Vanessa says
they are living in London, he affects surprise.
Once in the UK their father took a
teaching job in Sussex, leaving them in the
charge of their formidable grandmother, who
had served in the army and wasn’t one for
doling out love (“I think I managed without”).
Later they lived on a housing estate,
which he enjoys telling those who assume
the Foreign Office is stuffed with toffs. He
got a scholarship to Abingdon School in
Oxford, then a direct grant school, where he
says he excelled at being naughty. At Durham
University he read zoology. Then he met
Vanessa, who appears to have given him,
for the first time in his life, a steady, loving,
supportive confidante. He proposed to her
in Budgens, by the tinned tomatoes, in a
roundabout way, saying they should get a
house together and maybe get married. “And
she looked at me and said, ‘Is that a proposal?’ ”
As the man who cabled London in
February 2016, warning them not to rule out a
Trump win, I wonder what he thinks Trump’s
chances are of a second term. “Today it looks
like Biden’s to lose. But don’t bet on it. It could
be very close.” Most important, “Don’t count
Trump out.” Could Trump refuse to leave the
White House? “If it’s close again, and the last
win was by 80,000 votes across three states,
in a country of 328 million people, then I’d be
surprised if it didn’t end up in the courts.” nSir Kim Darroch talks to Manveen Rana in
a free Times+ online event on September 17
(mytimesplus.co.uk/events)THE DIPLOMATIC
SERVICE IS CHANGING:
‘IT’S VERY WOKE’
GROOMING: CAROL BROWN AT TERRI MANDUCA USING MAC
TOMORROW IN THE SUNDAY TIMES
Darroch: What I think about Trump