SPECTATOR'S NOTE BOOK
J. W. M. THOMPSON
It is a great pity that our political system is not better equipped to provide an equivalent to the sabbatical year which is one of the prime amenities of the academic life. At the moment, for example, I note that Mr Douglas Jay (who had to go to the length of getting himself dropped from the Government alto- gether in order to enjoy time for reflection) appears to be demonstrating very convincingly the value of such an opportunity.
In recent weeks he has been arguing, lucidly and persuasively (a) the case for a variable exchange rate for sterling, instead of the present artificially fixed level; and (b) the case against the creation of a vast motorway system within London, namely, that it would wreck the environment, introduce new horrors of noise and ugliness, and claim resources des- perately needed for housing. The first of these propositions has long been accepted as obvious common sense among non-economists, I sus- pect; be that as it may, it is interesting to hear it now from the liberated Mr Jay, who was a member of the government which brought the country to its knees in defence of the fixed parity of $2.80—and what was he saying about exchange rates then? The second of his argu- ments would be endorsed by any person con- cerned with civilised values rather than the current religion of transport-worship, and of course Mr Jay is a welcome recruit—but wasn't he the minister most closely concerned with that noisy, ugly, environment-wrecking plan to dump London's third airport at Stansted?
With a grain of salt
I have a firm rule about reports suggesting that any one of the world's rulers is mortally ill. It is to disbelieve them—until, that is, the subject of the reports provides his own indis- putable evidence of their truth, either by public admission or (even more convincing) by dying. This rule may be recommended to all students of world affairs as having been thoroughly tested, and appears to have proved its worth yet again in the case of President Nasser. It's no use my pretending to be a fully briefed expert on the medical history and present state of health of President Nasser; I am not. Yet all the recent urgent reports of his immediate physical breakdown left me un- persuaded, and the subsequent newsreel this week of him beaming healthily and happily at Cairo crowds came as no surprise at all. The general truth seems to be that people get much satisfaction from spreading and believing stories attributing failing health, galloping senility, or imminent demise to men of power; it is one small symbolic way of cutting them down to ordinary size, even perhaps a way of revenge. Scarcely a ruler is exempt—from Stalin to Sukarno, from Mao to Ho, from Franco to LB.', all were firmly rumoured to be mor- tally stricken. In the case of Hitler, one could choose whether to believe that it would be mental or physical illness that would end his days: either way, he was widely written off years before his actual and unlamented death.
President de Gaulle, naturally, has starred in many a lurid pseudo-medical rumour. In Paris several years ago, when I was briefly repre- senting a daily newspaper there, I was urgently summoned to the telephone to be advised of a red-hot inside tip from Whitehall that Mon- general was so severely handicapped by failing health that he was on the point of retirement. (Correspondents faced with this kind of thing are punctilious about going through the motions. I recall a grave and courteous con- versation with a gentleman at the Elysde, at the end of which we agreed to regard the in- cident as closed.) I've kept a benign eye on Mongeneral's health ever since, and in this re- spect at least he hasn't let me down.
When was antique?
`Antiques seem to be the coming thing these days.' heard these bizarre words with my own ears the other day, spoken by a village shopkeeper shaking her head in wonder at the opening of yet another 'antique shop' in her sparsely populated locality. I knew exactly what she meant. For some years now. I've noted how the countryside is growing ever more thickly provided with shops of this character; I can think offhand of half a dozen villages which five years ago possessed no such amenity, and now possess in some cases as many as three. Among them are an old rectory, a former village pub, an ancient priory and a farmhouse—all converted, in this age which boasts of its progressiveness and its realism, into places were people can acquire the furni- ture, the household utensils and the bric-à-brac of supposedly less enlightened times.
It is, in fact, a very rum phenomenon indeed. Most of these shops deal hardly at all in acknowledged treasures, those triumphs of great cabinet-makers or other craftsmen, since these have become too expensive; what they're in fact selling is the everyday utilitarian stuff of defunct households. The buyer's first re- quirement is not that his purchase should be aesthetically pleasing or of historical value, but simply that it should not be of today. I don't believe there exists in history any precedent for this widespread passion for the obsolete. One could draw weighty conclusions about the unsettling effects of rapid change, the search for stability in the past, and so on : I forbear. But I have noticed that these shops, which used to work to a sort of fifty-year rule, are today finding their wares much closer in time: the 1930s are now seen to be old-world, naturally enough, and the 1940s; I was, how- ever surprised to see in one self-styled 'antique' shop a number of distinctly 1950-ish relics on sale among the Victoriana, including a plain wooden bath-rack. At this rate one's dimmest domestic possessions may be acquiring bidden value as the 'antiques' of a few years' time. Why don't advertisers use this? 'Take care of our three-piece suites and in your old age they will take care of you.'
Rhubarb, rhubarb
`Of course, we are all hoping that medical scientists will come up with something that will solve the problem. I'm sure they will. If, for example, rhubarb had the same effect as the pill, people could eat it and there would be no problem.' (Monsignor Hubert Gibney, Vicar-General of the Southwark Diocese, quoted in the Sun, 14 August.)
Previous page
