In the myriad channels of communication which constitute diplomatic relations, from the verbal feint across an embassy cocktail glass to the idiomatic language of despatches in the diplomatic bag, words count. Words conveyed in verbal messages between one country and another before the signing of, for example, a bilateral deal can carry a premium.
When Bill Rammell, then a Foreign Office minister, passed a message to Abdulati Alobidi, Libya’s Europe minister during a meeting in Tripoli that “neither the Prime Minister nor the Foreign Secretary [David Miliband] would want Mr Megrahi to pass away in prison” a deal was effectively done. Done in February before any conclusive evidence on which the convicted Lockerbie bomber was subsequently to be released on compassionate grounds had been examined. Done against a backcloth of exchanges in which Tripoli had been warning that the death of Abdelbaset al-Megrahi in a Scottish prison would be seen by Libya as a “death sentence” which would have “catastrophic effects” for the relationship between Libya and Britain and would “be bad for Islamic, Arab and Libyan opinion”.
And after then Foreign Secretary Jack Straw – heavily involved in late 2007 in negotiations with the Libyan authorities over oil and gas supply contracts which subsequently, to the chagrin still of American competitors, went to BP and Shell – wrote to Scotland’s Justice Minister Kenny MacAskill to say that al-Megrahi was, after all, to be included in the Anglo-Libyan prisoner transfer agreement.
Mr Straw wrote: “The wider negotiations with the Libyans are reaching a critical stage and in view of the overwhelming interests of the United Kingdom I have agreed that in this instance the PTA should be in the standard form and not mention any individual.”
Al-Megrahi was, therefore, not just “on the table”, as has been admitted until now, but there, critically, at the centre of an agreement at Libya’s insistence. An agreement blessed by the concern, passed on, of Mr Miliband and Gordon Brown that al-Megrahi should not die in prison.
But all this did not seal his fate. As Britain made transparently clear to Tripoli, “the decision on transfer lies in the hands of Scottish ministers”.
Mr MacAskill’s decision was, in his own words, his and his alone. A brave and just decision if it served both to uphold Scotland’s proudly independent and arguably superior judicial system and to avoid any insidious desire for conviction to be turned into revenge. Questions hanging over the quality and robustness of the medical advice given to Mr MacAskill must be answered for the integrity of the decision to stand.
Mr Brown insists that there has been no deal, no cover up and no instructions to Scotland. Perhaps none of the latter two were necessary. There is a job for a full parliamentary inquiry, if that body had any teeth left. The outcome is that relations between Libya and Britain and London and Edinburgh are now more strained. And for the bereaved families the truth has receded deeper into the murk.
