Political Commentary
Five minutes to midnight
Patrick Cosgrave Every good actor has at least two exit lines —so 1 persuaded the editor to allow me two columns in which to bid goodbye to this spot in the paper. I find now that I needed the second column, because so many respected friends have complained of last week's effort that it was too optimistic, too sanguine of Britain's strengths, too little aware of the imminence of the coming catastrophe. But the fact of the matter is that this country still has enormous strength, splendid will, and excellent taste. The trouble is that none of these characteristics seems at the moment to be very active. And if—as I believe—we are on the very edge of the abyss—because even the pity of our creditors overseas is not inexhaustible— then the characteristics we possess and the values to which, however vestigially, we cling are the only things that can save us. New-fangled formulae will have no appeal.
And in some respects perhaps the most noticeable change in British politics outside Parliament in the last few years has been the flight of some of the brightest minds towards new-fangled formulae. Various methods have been suggested for creating a new national consensus; many placebos— like incomes policies and coalitions—have been canvassed; and numerous indeed have been the schemes of change recommended by those who are convinced that a principal reason for the decline of Britain has been, first, the survival of characteristics which have lasted for centuries and, second, the exhaustion of old systems of government. The intellectual and moral discontent which issues in such proposals finds its natural home on the right of the Labour Party and the left of the Conservative Party—along a line, one might say, drawn between Mr Roy Jenkins and Mr Ian Gilmour. But before any recovery can be imagined, let alone planned for, the intellectual and moral nullity of what has come to be called social democracy must be fully appreciated.
Let me give a concrete example. Dr Stephen Haseler is a portly and extremely able GLC councillor. Formerly an adviser to Mr Anthony Crosland, he lectures in politics at the City of London Polytechnic and is a founder member of that strange Labour body the Social Democratic Alliance. He has just published a long book, called The Death of British Democracy* in which he analyses the ills of the nation, and canvasses the social democratic ideal as a system of revival. Much of the book consists of rather personalised musing on what has gone wrong with the country; but a particularly significant section consists of un friendly reflections on the British so-called class system which are equalled in imprecision only by Mr Jack Jones's fatuous attack on Ascot. The touchstone of value throughout the book is what Dr Haseler calls 'unreconstructed Gaitskellism', a phrase redolent of romance, but very hard to define. When, in the course of his chapter on class, Dr Haseler tries to define it, this is what he comes up with: 'In fact, it is a keen sense of class injustice that is probably at the root of British social democratic politics. Hugh Gaitskell set forth this view in his 1955 speech to the Labour Party Conference ...Gaitskell "disliked" the class system; it was not to his taste ... It was probably this vague and unsystematic sense of class that led many politically interested young people into the Labour movement, rather than into the Liberals or Tories, from the 'twenties onwards.'
Well, as an example of morbid psychology it certainly has its interest; but it is hardly a programme for the new Jerusalem.
Nevertheless, Dr Haseler's is an important book, because it summarises and expresses so well that intimation of tortured goodwill which lies at the heart of so much British political philosophy.. It does not compare for intellectual ruthlessness and thoroughness with, from the left, Dr Stuart Holland's %The Socialist Challenge or, from the right, Mr Robert Moss's The Collapse of Democracy. Dr Holland (like Mr Benn, who once said as much in terms) would build a Cuba in this island; Mr Moss is not at all sure what he would build: the purpose of his argument is to persuade people, while we still have a democratic system, to dismiss from the conduct of their affairs all of those politicians, whatever .their nominal party affiliation, who seek a resolution to our problems through more government activity. For all the ( justified) fear with 'which he regards the left, for all his innate decency, Dr Haseler—like Mr Jenkins and Mr Gilmour—would burden us with more and more boards and committees and institutions, more of this, more of that, more of everything. The fundamental experience of Britain under social democracy—under what used to be called 'Butskellism'—has been the steady draining of power over their own lives from the people. Indeed, it is of the essence of social democracy not to trust the people. To take but one area— though it is a highly important one—the long-standing conspiracy of silence between men of goodwill over the matter of how many coloured immigrants Britain is having to absorb demonstrates a virtually ineradicable determination, not merely to avoid
telling the people the truth, but actually to tell them lies.
But, though I began these columns by reflecting on the way politics in Britain have changed in the last few years the real truth is that a decision about the future, and about our very nature as a nation, is not so much about to emerge from our deliberations as to be forced upon us by events. Thus it was at the end of the 'thirties. The parliamentary events which ended in the dethroning of Chamberlain and the emergence of Churchill, though in themselves dramatic, were merely an expression of the national will. Churchill's first speech as Prime Minister to the House of Commons lasted only a few minutes; and he said nothing in it except that he would fight. He had no need of programmes and reforms and juggling games with the constitution, because he called upon the strength of the nation and found that it was there. 'I merely gave the lion's roar', he said on another occasion. The challenge of peacetime is different, and the strength of the nation cannot be enlisted by a government or a programme or a philosophy that depends, as all programmes and philosophies save those of the Conservative right depend, on regimentation of both individuals and sections of the community. Already, within weeks of yet another restrictive budget, we have begun to see how frail and insubstantial a barrier even an agreed incomes policy places between us and disaster. There is no substitute for the brutal presentation of brutal reality, for a budget speech which would take at most ten minutes to deliver, and would involve principally cuts in public expenditure substantial enough both to balance the budget and allow for considerable tax reductions.
The barometer, as Sir Impey Biggs observed on a celebrated occasion, IS falling. The crisis which even the most pessimistic Tories have said will come In 1977 is already upon us. It is useless for ministers to complain that the pound Is under-valued; useless for Mr Jones t° appeal to the spirit of Dunkirk (which was, after all, a massive and wounding defeat), useless to trot out yet again variations of the useless palliatives that have served incornpetent and frightened government after incompetent and frightened government to the past. Supposing we do not want to be a Cuba—a self-reliant but totally regulated prison camp off the coast of a great continent—the only policy that will mee! the needs of the hour is one which will thrust back on the people the responsibilitY for deciding what their country is that belongs to them alone. There is no reasotl to suppose that our political system as It now exists is incapable of throwing up Melt and women brave enough to do just that But, on the other hand, there is no certaill that there is still enough strength, stil enough will, in the nation to respond to th,e_ necessary measures. We are an eleven' hour people; but it is five minutes t° midnight.
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