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Roy Jenkins: A Retrospective
Roy Jenkins was a dominating figure in British politics across the four decades before his death in 2003, with an impact and legacy greater than many prime ministers of the period. These essays, by friends and associates of Roy Jenkins from every phase of his life, chart his remarkable career
with insight, anecdote, and empathy. Each contributor writes from a close and unique relationship with their subject.
with insight, anecdote, and empathy. Each contributor writes from a close and unique relationship with their subject.
- GenresBiography
340 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2004
20 people want to read
About the author
Andrew Adonis
22 books3 followersAndrew Adonis, Baron Adonis, PC is a British Labour Party politician and journalist who served in HM Government for five years in the Blair ministry and the Brown ministry. He served as Secretary of State for Transport from 2009 to 2010, and as Chairman of the National Infrastructure Commission from 2015 to 2017.
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October 30, 2025
It was Gladstone, described by Roy Jenkins himself in his brilliant (and huge) 1995 biography, who once said, “You cannot fight against the future; time is on its side.” And perhaps no politician better embodied that sentiment than Jenkins himself: one of the most progressive Home Secretaries and Chancellors of the Exchequer of his (or any?) age.
Across his three major stints in government (Home Secretary 1965–67, Chancellor of the Exchequer 1967–70, and Home Secretary again 1974–76), Jenkins moved the dial on some of the most important social reforms that continue to shape Britain in 2025. As Home Secretary in the 1960s, he was a man on a mission. He drove forward reform in justice, policing, the legalisation of homosexuality, abortion rights, the abolition of theatre censorship, and race relations. When he returned to office in the 1970s, he brought about the White Paper on equality for women in 1974, the Sex Discrimination Act of 1975, and the Race Relations Act of 1976. He was also a leading voice in the 1975 European referendum, making the case for Europe before going on to serve as President of the European Commission.
He was not without his flaws. He was often criticised for failing to act decisively on education and on the state of Britain’s prisons. Yet he would remind us that “every minister is allowed at least one error from time to time.” Jenkins was, in every sense, a “big beast” of Cabinet politics, combining intellect, conviction, and charm in a way few since have managed. As Chancellor, he restored stability after economic turmoil and raised spending on public services from around 44 to 50 per cent of GDP, believing that such investment instilled hope and confidence.
Jenkins mastered the art of getting things done. He respected those he worked with, listened carefully, and built consensus. His principle was simple but powerful: to argue to solutions, not to conclusions. He surrounded himself with a loyal team of capable ministers and officials who shared his mission to modernise Britain.
He also possessed a rare political talent: the ability to turn pain into progress, to meet adversity with grace. As one observer wrote, “never has pain been inflicted with greater elegance.” Like Churchill, he used language as both shield and weapon. I love the quote when slapping down Enoch Powell: “the right honourable gentleman makes his point impeccably, but he is always making it from a false premise and therefore will always come to the wrong conclusion”. Masterful.
Yet it was his more natural restraint that perhaps cost him the leadership. He could have challenged Wilson in 1968 but refused to commit what he saw as political regicide. Honourable, yes, but ultimately fatal to his ambition. Jenkins was a reformer, not a plotter; a doer, not a usurper.
All in all, he stands as one of the great Labour statesmen of the twentieth century. It is tempting to wonder what Britain might have become had Roy Jenkins ever taken his place at No. 10.
Across his three major stints in government (Home Secretary 1965–67, Chancellor of the Exchequer 1967–70, and Home Secretary again 1974–76), Jenkins moved the dial on some of the most important social reforms that continue to shape Britain in 2025. As Home Secretary in the 1960s, he was a man on a mission. He drove forward reform in justice, policing, the legalisation of homosexuality, abortion rights, the abolition of theatre censorship, and race relations. When he returned to office in the 1970s, he brought about the White Paper on equality for women in 1974, the Sex Discrimination Act of 1975, and the Race Relations Act of 1976. He was also a leading voice in the 1975 European referendum, making the case for Europe before going on to serve as President of the European Commission.
He was not without his flaws. He was often criticised for failing to act decisively on education and on the state of Britain’s prisons. Yet he would remind us that “every minister is allowed at least one error from time to time.” Jenkins was, in every sense, a “big beast” of Cabinet politics, combining intellect, conviction, and charm in a way few since have managed. As Chancellor, he restored stability after economic turmoil and raised spending on public services from around 44 to 50 per cent of GDP, believing that such investment instilled hope and confidence.
Jenkins mastered the art of getting things done. He respected those he worked with, listened carefully, and built consensus. His principle was simple but powerful: to argue to solutions, not to conclusions. He surrounded himself with a loyal team of capable ministers and officials who shared his mission to modernise Britain.
He also possessed a rare political talent: the ability to turn pain into progress, to meet adversity with grace. As one observer wrote, “never has pain been inflicted with greater elegance.” Like Churchill, he used language as both shield and weapon. I love the quote when slapping down Enoch Powell: “the right honourable gentleman makes his point impeccably, but he is always making it from a false premise and therefore will always come to the wrong conclusion”. Masterful.
Yet it was his more natural restraint that perhaps cost him the leadership. He could have challenged Wilson in 1968 but refused to commit what he saw as political regicide. Honourable, yes, but ultimately fatal to his ambition. Jenkins was a reformer, not a plotter; a doer, not a usurper.
All in all, he stands as one of the great Labour statesmen of the twentieth century. It is tempting to wonder what Britain might have become had Roy Jenkins ever taken his place at No. 10.
Displaying 1 of 1 review