Interview: Jack Straw

The elder statesman of the Brown government is pressing ahead with radical reform of the UK constitu

It's hard to imagine, but Jack Straw clearly fancies himself as a character in Life on Mars, the hit retro cop drama in which a politically correct police officer from the present is transported back to the time of Ford Capris and the three-day week.

With the unions threatening a winter of industrial strife, Straw sprinkles his conversation on the eve of party conference with ominous warnings that the Labour movement must not return to the era of mutually assured industrial destruction. He comes to the interview straight from negotiations with the Prison Officers' Association, whose one-day strike in August raised the spectre of public sector unrest and reminded Straw of his long-haired youth. "We won't do ourselves any good if we get into the situation we got into in the 1970s, which I witnessed . . . It's a Life on Mars story," he says.

Don't let the tailored suits and cufflinks fool you. The Justice Secretary is a creature of glam rock. He can, he says, vouch for the accuracy of Life on Mars, as he lived through that era, first as a young barrister, and, from 1974, working for Barbara Castle, then social services secretary. Straw found himself a back-room boy during some of Labour's darkest days in power (just as David Cameron did on the Conservative side during Black Wednesday two decades later). He even remembers the pay formula won by the trade unions ("n+1"), which, he explains, was one percentage point above inflation.

We suggest that reminding the unions of the 1978-79 Winter of Discontent has become a little tired. "But I've never said remember the Winter of Discontent," Straw responds. "What I've said to them is remember the mid-1970s rather than the end, because that's what's burnt on my brain - the experience of actually being in government as a special adviser in that period and seeing where we ended. On one level, the circumstances aren't remotely the same, because public finance and the state of the British economy is completely different. But what that experience taught me was how important it was to get on top of any indications of inflation and do it quickly."

Straw insists he is keeping up a dialogue with the prison officers, but he makes clear that the overall settlement is non-negotiable. The best he can offer is more flexibility about working conditions and modernisation agreements, and he also promises to do more to raise the status of prison officers so they are seen as key public sector workers in the way that teachers, nurses and police officers are. Whether this will be enough to keep the POA membership at work is another question. He talks about dealing with prison disputes as a Groundhog Day moment.

Indeed, much of Straw's in tray marks a return to two of his former jobs, as home secretary and foreign secretary. Immediately after the interview, he is off to Brussels to discuss aspects of the new EU constitutional treaty. Straw has the air of a man who has been there and done it all, so it is impossible not to quiz him on American sabre-rattling over Iran.

He is keen not to tread on the toes of his successor, but he makes clear that the new-found cooling towards the Bush administration extends to the next potential war. "I think David Miliband has made it clear . . . military action against Iran is not on the UK's agenda." Straw has consistently hinted that he would not support military action in Iran, and he was one of the architects of the three-nation talks with Tehran, involving Britain, Germany and France. "Of course I'm an interested person; how couldn't I be an interested person?" Pressed spe cifically on reaction to a US military strike, he says: "That would be a bridge we'd have to cross. I'd make my decision at the time."

We put to him the assertions made by David Manning, Tony Blair's former foreign affairs adviser and the outgoing ambassador to Washington. In last week's NS, Manning claimed that Blair never wanted to go to war in Iraq and that the British had been misled by the US government on the postwar reconstruction. His remarks have been greeted with some scepticism, but Straw says Manning's description of events is largely accurate. "I never had the least impression that Tony was somehow gung-ho for a war and that the whole thing was cooked up, because it's simply not true."

European poetry

At 61, Straw is the elder statesman of the cabinet, one of the few members of Gordon Brown's team more senior in years than the Prime Minister himself. He is quite relaxed about admitting to differences with cabinet colleagues. He defends his support for the Muslim Council of Britain, whose near monopoly on dialogue with ministers was challenged first by Ruth Kelly, when she was communities secretary, and then by Jacqui Smith, the Home Secretary. "I think they have a fair point in saying they should not be ignored because they are representative of most of the mosque associations in the country," he says. "Sometimes I agree with them and they with me, and sometimes we have very spirited disagreements, but they are part of civil society."

Throughout Blair's fraught final years in charge, Straw was seen as the Eurosceptics' fifth columnist in cabinet. It was he who in April 2004 bounced the then PM into a U-turn on the EU constitution and agreement to a referendum. Where does he stand now? Even if, as some people argue, the new treaty is 95 per cent the same as the old one, this is not an argument for a plebiscite, he says. "It depends how you work out your 95 per cent . . . because the difference between good and bad poetry is the 5 per cent. Sometimes it's the 1 per cent." The difference, he argues, can be found in the greater clarity of the updated document over the role of a new EU foreign affairs chief, plus clearer opt-outs protecting the UK position in a number of policy areas and a less prominent role for the EU Charter of Fundamental Rights. So why did he buckle last time around? He produces an ingenious construct. "We had to have a referendum last time because of the extent of the clamour. I never accepted that it was justified in terms of what the constitution would do." This seems an odd thing to say when a significant number of Labour MPs, the unions, the Conservative Party and 60,000 signatories to a Daily Telegraph petition are calling for a referendum. We ask how loud the clamour has to be this time before the government changes tack. "I think the case is much weaker than it was."

The job of justice secretary, created after the splitting of the Home Office in two, could be seen as a fringe post. But Straw sits at the Prime Minister's left hand around the cabinet table, suggesting that the man who organised Brown's leadership campaign is also de facto Deputy Prime Minister. That he has been given the crucial job of pushing through Brown's constitutional reforms reinforces his status. His role early on during the Blair administration in drawing up the Human Rights Act made him the obvious man for the job. "The principal difference between where we were ten years ago and where we are today is that this is explicitly about reducing the power of the centre and the executive vis-à-vis parliament."

The details of the government's plans for constitutional reform have been well rehearsed (controls on the prime minister's power to declare war, ratify treaties and dissolve parliament; new oversight for the intelligence agencies; a UK Bill of Rights; a statement of British values). Straw rules out a written constitution, at least in the short term. "I'm not against a written constitution, but I think you've got to get the building blocks in place before you get there. In any case, I think it has to be done through parliament ultimately and a referendum."

Another reform missing from the government's plans thus far is changing the way the House of Commons is elected. Straw, like Brown, remains adamant that the link between MPs and the constituencies they represent should be maintained. He remains unconvinced, therefore, by arguments for proportional representation. But, he says, he would favour a move towards the "alternative vote" system (AV) where people mark a list of candidates in order of preference. This ensures that each constituency MP eventually gets the support of a majority of voters.

His undisguised support for AV gives at least a hint of the direction of travel of the Brown government. "I happen to think that first past the post or AV, which is a variant of it, is fairer. The alternative vote has many attractions, including the fact that you have to get 50 per cent plus one in that constituency, therefore you have a greater legitimacy."

Jack Straw is not a man who readily admits he was wrong. On Iraq, on championing the Muslim Council of Britain, on his dealings with the prison officers, he is unrepentant. But on one matter he is prepared to admit that mistakes were made: in not properly selling the Human Rights Act to the British people. This has allowed hardliners, such as the retiring former home secretary John Reid, and their supporters in the right-wing media, to depict it as a criminals' charter.

"Entirely in hindsight, I should have brought out [the fact] that every right is balanced out by a responsibility or duty," he says. "I should probably have gone into more explanation about the benefits to British citizens, not just to those who behave badly, although we all have that potential."

This article first appeared in the 24 September 2007 issue of the New Statesman, Trouble ahead: the crises facing Gordon Brown

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“It was the most traumatic chapter of my life”: ex-soldier James Wharton on his chemsex addiction

One of the British Army’s first openly gay soldiers reveals how he became trapped in a weekend world of drug and sex parties.

“Five days disappeared.” James Wharton, a 30-year-old former soldier, recalls returning to his flat in south London at 11pm on a Sunday night in early March. He hadn’t eaten or slept since Wednesday. In the five intervening days, he had visited numerous different apartments, checked in and out of a hotel room, partied with dozens of people, had sex, and smoked crystal meth “religiously”.

One man he met during this five-day blur had been doing the same for double the time. “He won’t have been exaggerating,” Wharton tells me now. “He looked like he’d been up for ten days.”

On Monday, Wharton went straight to his GP. He had suffered a “massive relapse” while recovering from his addiction to chemsex: group sex parties enhanced by drugs.

“Crystal meth lets you really dig in, to use an Army term”

I meet Wharton on a very different Monday morning six months after that lost long weekend. Sipping a flat white in a sleek café workspace in Holborn, he’s a stroll away from his office in the city, where he works as a PR. He left the Army in 2013 after ten years, having left school and home at 16.


Wharton left school at 16 to join the Army. Photo: Biteback

With his stubble, white t-shirt and tortoise shell glasses, he now looks like any other young media professional. But he’s surfacing from two years in the chemsex world, where he disappeared to every weekend – sometimes for 72 hours straight.

Back then, this time on a Monday would have been “like a double-decker bus smashing through” his life – and that’s if he made it into work at all. Sometimes he’d still be partying into the early hours of a Tuesday morning. The drugs allow your body to go without sleep. “Crystal meth lets you really dig in, to use an Army expression,” Wharton says, wryly.


Wharton now works as a PR in London. Photo: James Wharton

Mainly experienced by gay and bisexual men, chemsex commonly involves snorting the stimulant mephodrone, taking “shots” (the euphoric drug GBL mixed with a soft drink), and smoking the amphetamine crystal meth.

These drugs make you “HnH” (high and horny) – a shorthand on dating apps that facilitate the scene. Ironically, they also inhibit erections, so Viagra is added to the mix. No one, sighs Wharton, orgasms. He describes it as a soulless and mechanical process. “Can you imagine having sex with somebody and then catching them texting at the same time?”

“This is the real consequence of Section 28”

Approximately 3,000 men who go to Soho’s 56 Dean Street sexual health clinic each month are using “chems”, though it’s hard to quantify how many people regularly have chemsex in the UK. Chemsex environments can be fun and controlled; they can also be unsafe and highly addictive.

Participants congregate in each other’s flats, chat, chill out, have sex and top up their drugs. GBL can only be taken in tiny doses without being fatal, so revellers set timers on their phones to space out the shots.

GBL is known as “the date rape drug”; it looks like water, and a small amount can wipe your memory. Like some of his peers, Wharton was raped while passed out from the drug. He had been asleep for six or so hours, and woke up to someone having sex with him. “That was the worst point, without a doubt – rock bottom,” he tells me. “[But] it didn’t stop me from returning to those activities again.”

There is a chemsex-related death every 12 days in London from usually accidental GBL overdoses; a problem that Wharton compares to the AIDS epidemic in a book he’s written about his experiences, Something for the Weekend.


Wharton has written a book about his experiences. Photo: Biteback

Wharton’s first encounter with the drug, at a gathering he was taken to by a date a couple of years ago, had him hooked.

“I loved it and I wanted more immediately,” he recalls. From then on, he would take it every weekend, and found doctors, teachers, lawyers, parliamentary researchers, journalists and city workers all doing the same thing. He describes regular participants as the “London gay elite”.

“Chemsex was the most traumatic chapter of my life” 

Topics of conversation “bounce from things like Lady Gaga’s current single to Donald Trump”, Wharton boggles. “You’d see people talking about the general election, to why is Britney Spears the worst diva of them all?”

Eventually, he found himself addicted to the whole chemsex culture. “It’s not one single person, it’s not one single drug, it’s just all of it,” he says.



Wharton was in the Household Cavalry alongside Prince Harry. Photos: Biteback and James Wharton

Wharton feels the stigma attached to chemsex is stopping people practising it safely, or being able to stop. He’s found a support network through gay community-led advice services, drop-ins and workshops. Not everyone has that access, or feels confident coming forward.

“This is the real consequence of Section 28,” says Wharton, who left school in 2003, the year this legislation against “promoting” homosexuality was repealed. “Who teaches gay men how to have sex? Because the birds and the bees chat your mum gives you is wholly irrelevant.”


Wharton was the first openly gay soldier to appear in the military in-house magazine. Photo courtesy of Biteback

Wharton only learned that condoms are needed in gay sex when he first went to a gay bar at 18. He was brought up in Wrexham, north Wales, by working-class parents, and described himself as a “somewhat geeky gay” prior to his chemsex days.

After four years together, he and his long-term partner had a civil partnership in 2010; they lived in a little cottage in Windsor with two dogs. Their break-up in 2014 launched him into London life as a single man.

As an openly gay soldier, Wharton was also an Army poster boy; he appeared in his uniform on the cover of gay magazine Attitude. He served in the Household Cavalry with Prince Harry, who once defended him from homophobic abuse, and spent seven months in Iraq.


In 2012, Wharton appeared with his then civil partner in Attitude magazine. Photo courtesy of Biteback

A large Union Jack shield tattoo covering his left bicep pokes out from his t-shirt – a physical reminder of his time at war on his now much leaner frame. He had it done the day he returned from Iraq.

Yet even including war, Wharton calls chemsex “the most traumatic chapter” of his life. “Iraq was absolutely Ronseal, it did exactly what it said on the tin,” he says. “It was going to be a bit shit, and then I was coming home. But with chemsex, you don’t know what’s going to happen next.

“When I did my divorce, I had support around me. When I did the Army, I had a lot of support. Chemsex was like a million miles an hour for 47 hours, then on the 48th hour it was me on my own, in the back of an Uber, thinking where did it all go wrong? And that’s traumatic.”

Something for the Weekend: Life in the Chemsex Underworld by James Wharton is published by Biteback.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 24 September 2007 issue of the New Statesman, Trouble ahead: the crises facing Gordon Brown