Could the army take over?
Patrick Cosgrave
On that rather pokey side of the House of Commons which is largely devoted to facilities for the press there is a corridor containing numerous notice boards, on some of which are pinned useful names and telephone numbers, as of various officials and functionaries, which might be of use to myself and my colleagues. Last week I spotted there the name of a particular military gentleman, against which a Fleet Street wag_ had scribbled a suggestion to the effect that, being in charge of the London area, this soldier might be the man to take over in the event of, presumably, our present crisis reaching an intolerable pitch of intensity or of a total government collapse. I noticed this scrawl particularly because the prospects of a military take-over in Britain had been the dominating subject at an entertaining lunch that day. But the subject returned to mind a little later when I was having an early evening drink in the company of both journalists and politicians. Jokingly (at least, I think jokingly) an experienced press colleague suggested that we had seen our last general election, since from now on the Prime Minister would merely need to continue to prolong various states of emergency and elongate the life of this parliament.
That first paragraph is defensive to the extent that it is the prelude to a serious discussion of the possibility and likely character of a military rising in Britain. It is defensive partly because so many British react with either genuine or feigned total disbelief to any suggestion of the kind. I have, like, I suppose, most political journalists, heard perfectly serious Tories suggest that the return of the Labour Party to power in its present state of thralldom to the left and the unions would produce, ultimately, a left-wing dictatorship; and equally serious Labour men suggest the like about the present government. That brilliant historian, Mr Alastair Horne, has drawn disturbing parallels between the Chilean experience and the likely development of our own. But we can hardly believe it could happen here.
Well: could it? The answer is, yes, of course. Our admirably professional armed forces could, quite easily, take the country over if they had a mind to; and if public resistance to the idea of their doing so had been eroded by continual failure on the part of the politicians evidently to succeed in the tackling of the nation's problems. However,' for an army (and an air force and navy) as disciplined as our own to act in such a way would require the development and escalation of political crisis to a degree and extent that would have seemed impossible a few years ago, but seems altogether too possible now.
Two sets of political developments would be necessary. The first, the continuing breakdown of political effectiveness, I have already mentioned, The second would be a deepening of the present discontent with, and contempt by the politicians for, our system of parliamentary government as it now exists in Britain. Let us look at some of the things that might happen.
Governments of both major parties have signally failed, in the last decade, either to produce economic and financial stability or to fulfil the major promises in their manifestoes. At the same time they have markedly failed to tackle privileges and monopolies of capital and labour which the broad mass of the citizenry have found increasingly repugnant. But, while so failing, they have multiplied the
instruments of interference of the state and introduced more and more elaborate versions of measures of compulsion — such as incomes policies — which have already failed, and which regularly fail again. All this involves government more and more in our daily lives, and lays the government of the day's pretence to moral authority on the line more regularly, virtually day by day, in situations where it is extremely unlikely that it can prevail. At the same time, ministers (in both parties) have eroded their authority, either by appearing to lie steadily to the community or by forfeiting certain rights in regard to it. Thus, for example, a few days before the present government felt compelled to take measures of unparalleled severity to deal with a national crisis, ministers were blandly pretending that nothing was ill with us, and all well. All this leads to the destruction of that spider's web of consensus on which parliamentary government of our kind depends. At the same time, the contempt which ordinary people increasingly feel for the capacity of political leaders of both parties has been mirrored by the unwillingness of certain powerful groups, notably the unions, to play according to rules hitherto accepted. Of course, it is understandable that union leaders, men of very limited but very real tactical intelligence, having so readily crushed so many governments before, should feel they can do so again, not realising the extent to which the inflation they themst ,,es battle against has so damaged both thL currency and the national will that every challenge to government brings the nation closer to anarchy. As usual, Mr Powell was perfectly correct to say that the Prime Minister's hint that the NUM was in some way in conflict with the constitution was absurd (though, by further devaluing the currency of political language, likely to produce a further deterioration of the kind I have just described); but Mr Levin and Mr Worsthorne were probably even more correct to suggest that the unions are now simply ignoring the voluntarily accepted restrictions on the
application of their muscle to politics which they have accepted in the past. A country rent apart by warring factions, not one of which retains the support of the public for its veracity or ability, is already ripe for a Coup. There is something else here. I doubt if the present industrial disruption is actually organised or orchestrated by tight little groups of subversives. But I have no doubt that stich groups, imbued with a contempt tor parliamentary democracy, are coming to the fore in the politics of industry, like foetid flowers blooming in our unhealthy climate. Furthermore, just as happened in Russia before their Revolution, the intelligentsia in this country have for long been both preaching anti-parliamentary forms of political activity and ideas subversive of the broadly accepted moral consensus of the country. It matters not whether you think some of their nostra correct or not: the bulk of the people do not. It does not matter what policies you consider wise, or what philosophies justified — the process has frequently been the prelude to revolution. policies you consider wise, or what philosophies justified — the process has frequently been the prelude to revolution.
But could the forces—or, more important would the forces — do it? Not yet, of course. But of one thing we can be sure: no successful revolution in Britain would be left wing, for the army are the men with the guns. Were, let us say, a future government (perhaps, as in Chile, a future Poujadist-Trotskyist government?) to produce a situation in, which in
dustrial militancy and urban guerrilla activity became rampant, it would be impossible to avoid a military move, perhaps initially sanc tioned by government, of some proportions. And if this had been preceded by •a further decline of the esteem in which democratic forms were held, then it would merely be the prelude to a take-over.
There are four things about the modern armed forces which prepare them for the day. First, ours is now a wholly professional force. Mr Peter Tapsell recently recalled the possibility that troops might have been used against the miners last year, and advised his listeners of the danger that they would have sided with the workers. But this is likely — as in General de Gaulle's Algerian crisis — only when an army is conscript. Conscripts identify with the citizenry, because they are only temporary soldiers. Professionals tend to identify with their brothers in arms, more and more so as they find less and less cause to identify with democratic institutions. Second, for some years our soldiers have been taught politics: unquestioning loyalty is, therefore, naturally out, and a questioning attitude takes its place. Thirdly, in Northern Ireland, the modern army has found substantial cause for being disillusioned xvith the prevarications of politics. Fourthly, n armed service is always the final repository of patriotism, though it is usually a simple, sp ,times a narrow, and
occasionally an ern; 'red patriotism.
Nothing is, of col inevitable. But if the
process of disillusit, . failure and subversion, conscious or unconscious, which I have described goes on it can have only one result. If pol icians, with however good intentions, sidett ,ck the parliamentary process (as Mr Heath with his EEC policy and his extraparliamentary Pay Board; Mr Wilson with his condoning of riotous Labour opposition in the House; and Mr Thorpe with his sanctioning of Liberal plans to destroy Parliament) they cannot complain if men in uniform cease to regard it as sacred.
But of this I am certain: no coup will take place in this country until it is one that would be welcomed or quietly acquiesced in by a majority or a very large minority of the people. But, in my judgement, we have gone measurably down the road to such acceptance in the last decade, and we have travelled very quickly along it in the last year.
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