Mr Heath's Easy Ride
POLITICAL COMMENTARY
By ALAN WATKINS
TS this Tory conference to be different from the ones that have gone before? Not basically. The delegates—sorry, representatives—still arrive accompanied by enormous piles of battered, solid, all-leather, hand-sewn luggage, for all the world as if they were embarking on an Ed- wardian family holiday. Which, in a sense, I suppose they are. Conservatives bring their wives to the conference. In the evening they put on dinner jackets and attend agents' balls and similar gay functions. At Brighton last week Mr John Morgan observed to me that the Labour party conference was the nearest British equivalent to a German beer festival. Anything—well, almost anything—goes. The Conservative conference is quite otherwise. The politicians do not, on the whole, sit around for hours exchanging malicious gossip over endless drinks. Perhaps this is be- cause the Conservatives are a less malicious party; perhaps because of the presence of all those wives. At any rate, the tempo of a Con- servative conference is noticeably more measured, and this conference is no exception.
There are, however, a few minor differences from the conferences of the past. The party or- ganisation has acquired a mania for issuing identificatory lapel badges, in tasteful pastel shades, to all and sundry. Only those who feel they require no identification—such as Mr Iain Macleod, Mr Quintin Hogg and a few of the bolder spirits at the press table—decline to wear them. Again, the Central Office girls, like London policemen, seem to get younger every year. (Men- tion of policemen reminds me to point out to the organisers of the Labour party conference that the Tories, at least, feel perfectly competent to keep order unaided, and a good thing too.) And, on Tuesday, yet another difference- was displayed. For once the press conference was an interesting occasion. Picture the ballroom of the Imperial Hotel, with the world's press sitting dis- consolately around. Sir Clyde Hewlett is in charge: he is the chairman of the Executive of the National Union, a post-war President of the Cambridge Union who is old beyond his years, sleek yet still somehow down-to-earth, an apparatchik figure with overtones of Alderman Salvidge and Joe Chamberlain. On his left sits Sir Dan Mason, who, as far as I can see, is com- pletely indistinguishable from his predecessor, Sir Max Bemrose. On Sir Clyde's right sits Mr Edward du Cann, looking more than ever as if he fears someone is about to assault him.
In a way Mr du Cann's fears (if he had them) turned out to be justified. A journalist asked about his future as chairman of the party. 'I am glad you asked that question,' said Sir Clyde (I swear he did). Then followed a joint encomium of Mr du Cann by Sir Clyde and Sir Dan. No words, it seemed, were adequate to express Dan., admiration for him and their abhorrence of the prospect of his removal. I select a few phrases at random. 'We would hate it to happen . . .
from my contact with the grass roots of the party we want him to carry on . . . the party has settled down to a good chairman . . . we would hate any change.' And so on. During this, period of praise Mr du Cann appeared increa4pgly agitated; whether from embarrassment af Sir - Clyde and Sir Dan's indiscretions or from a deep and genuine emotion it is impossible to say. For there can be no doubt that Sir Clyde and Sir Dan were being indiscreet. As some constitu- tionalists in the audience were quick to point out, the chairmanship of the party is in the gift of the leader. Moreover, Sir Clyde had not con- sulted Mr Heath before saying what he did. The three on the platform tried to retreat. Mr du Cann said that there was nothing he would not do for his leader. But the damage—or, if you like, the good—had been done. The question remains: were Sir Clyde and Sir Dan acting with full knowledge of what the consequences would be? Shortly afterwards, Sir Dan mantained pri- vately that he was taking the only course possible. But the suspicion remains that on Tuesday the mass party exercised its authority knowing full well what it was about And so to Ted. On Wednesday he made his best conference speech so far. Indeed, it had some claim to be one of the best speeches heard during the present conference season. In con- tent, admittedly, the speech was nothing new; in delivery, however, it marked an advance for Mr Heath. For once he let himself go. But the debate that preceded Mr Heath's effort was hardly a distinguished one. It had about it that quality of mindlessness and philistinism (I ex- cept Mr Angus Maude's contribution) which is inseparable from Tory conferences. But one thing was clear both from the so-called debate and from the reception which Mr Heath evoked: the party is in no mood for gossip about changes in the leadership. Some time ago, when Mr Heath's decision to speak at this debate was an- nounced, there was talk of him 'going into the lions' den.' In view of the lack of criticism on Wednesday, it would have been more appro- priate to say he was going into a parlour full of pekingese.
It was, of course, fortunate that the Gallup Poll, showing the Conservatives with a two and a half points lead, appeared before the debate took place. As it is, the faithful can console themselves with the happy thought that the law adumbrated in the SPECTATOR'S election number will continue to operate inexorably; that, as un- employment increases, so will the unpopularity of the Government; and that the Opposition will make corresponding gains.
Yet there can be very little doubt that there is a good deal of middle-class support (exemplified in my colleague Mr Donald McLachlan) not only for a wage freeze and a higher rate of unem- ployment, but also for the general 'bash the unions' posture which Mr Harold Wilson has taken up. The point can be put in a different way: the Conservative party no longer has the automatic support of any interest in this coun- try. The middle classes tend on the whole to approve of what the Government is doing.
In the past, however, the Conservative party had the advantage not merely of being firmly supported by various interests but, at the same time, of appearing the 'national' party. This second advantage has also disappeared, though the disappearance may be only temporary. The platform at Brighton last week was not actually draped with a Union Jack, but, listening to the speeches of Mr Wilson and Mr James Callaghan, one felt that it might just as well have been. Mr Wilson reproved the Conservatives for, of all things, indulging in 'ideological' attacks; just as he did, in some less notorious remarks, at the Labour party's Blackpool conference a year ago.
What, in these circumstances, is the Conserva- tive party to do? Mr Enoch Powell has no doubts : the consensus must be questioned. In recent weeks speech after speech has been rolling off the duplicating machines at Conservative Central Office. Not that Central Office has had anything to do with the preparation of these speeches. On the contrary, Mr Powell, like Mr Wilson in more leisured days, does all his own work. He does not employ a research assistant or even a full-time secretary. That is one reason why his speeches read so well--:-unlike some others we can all think of. Mr Powell believes that if only he can go on making speeches for long enough, he will eventually be proved right. The trouble is that those who are proved right are rarely, in this world of ours, hailed as saviours. They are more often regarded as nuisances.
Mr Reginald Maudling, though in his way just as lonely a figure as Mr Powell, has a different approach. 'It is.. . . urgent,' he said in a speech last Wednesday, 'to achieve a system whereby wages are settled not by brute industrial bar- gaining strength alone but in an atmosphere of responsibility where the interests of the com- munity can also be brought to bear.' On the very same day, Mr Callaghan was saying almost word for word the identical thing at Brighton. Indeed, Mr Callaghan and Mr Maudling see eye to eye on a number of matters. Certainly Mr Callaghan makes no secret of his admiration for Mr Maudling at the expense of some other mem- bers of the Conservative front bench. Reggie, he will explain graciously, has been through the mill. He knows what it is all about. He has actually had to deal with these touchy foreign chaps. And similarly Mr Maudling—though he may not be quite so polite about Mr Callaghan —approves of what the Chancellor is trying to do.
And where in all this does Mr Heath stand? Like Mr Iain Macleod, he is a little difficult to place precisely. At the moment, arguably, he is politically wise to be flexible. Nor, again, is there any necessary choice to be made between the views of Mr Maudling and those of Mr Powell. They may both be wrong, or both par- tially right. My broad point is that Mr Maudling represents consensus—none better—whereas Mr Powell does not. It is safe to assume that Mr Heath will still lead the Conservative party at the next election. If, however, the party loses, a choice may have to be made between a party operating within the consensus and a party operating outside it. This will not necessarily be a conscious choice, but it will be a choice none the less. It may turn out to be a choice.- between Mr Powell and Mr Maudling.
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