Propeller and Screw

By HENRY FAIRLIE

LORD HAILSHAM has written a book* about the art of government as important as any by a practising politician since L. S. Amery pub- lished his four Chichele lectures. This is, in itself, something of an occasion. But first, since the opportunity is impossible to resist, I must say a word about Lord Hailsham.

The word, precisely, is `entusymusy.' It will be found in one of Lord Byron's letters, and it exactly describes the kind of woozy enthu- siasm which sometimes takes hold of Lord Hailsham and elevates him whirring beyond our reach. At these moments he is exactly like one of those toy spinners we used to play with at scho ol : This consists of a short metal spindle twisted to form a screw over which fits a propeller, in the same way that a nut screws on to a bolt. Under the propeller is a small bobbin, which slides freely along the screw. When the bobbin is pushed sharply up the spiralled spindle, it forces the propeller along the screw until it flies off the end, and is sent spinning into the air. As long as it continues to spin quickly from the momentum given to it by the screw, the propeller flies upwards, but as the rate of spinning slows down, it floats to the ground.

This is exactly what happens to Lord Hailsham in his moments of `entusymusy.'

There are passages in this book which have been written under the influence of `entusymusy,' but for the most part it reveals Lord Hailsham in his more reflective mood, and in that mood he displays a weighty political intelligence.

The essays have, by and large, been taken to be about science or, more precisely, about what we should do about science. But they are only incidentally that. It no wonder, therefore, that people like Dr. B. V. Bowden, the Principal of the Manchester College of Science and Tech- nology, have been disappointed by the book. They seem to have expected, from the Minister of Science, a blueprint for science. Instead, they have been given, by a politician, reflections on the art of politics.

They ought to be grateful for it, and I hope they will return to the essays and read them for what they are: the comments of an expert within his own field. The 'new men' of our own age are not likely to be given so valuable a political primer within another decade. 1 will try, here, only to separate some of the main lessons in the primer.

Lord Hailsham challenges with, I must say, unexpected and stinging force the conception (always current among those who want govern- ment money) that government can be a disin- terested patron. In exercising its patronage, he declares,

the Government is not, and cannot be, disin- terested. . . . Who will deny that, in the pro- cess, both the State, and science, have to some extent been corrupted? Three-quarters of British Government money spent on science comes directly from the defence budget. . . . Nor perhaps are even academics so pure. . . . More of this [the defence expenditure on science] than many people think is spent in the uni- versities.

He makes a powerful plea that 'neither defence nor even the short-term requirements of tech- nology' should be 'allowed to claim complete mastery over scientific endeavour.' It is curious, but not insignificant, that this plea for the scientist's freedom is made, not by him, but by the politician.

If there are dangers in government activity, there are also limitations on it, proper in a free society. Writing of the shortage of science teachers, Lord Hailsham says:

I understand that the Soviet administration is able to draw on a short period of compulsory service in the teaching profession for all graduates, after the fashion of national service. This would not, I conceive, be acceptable in the West.

In all that he says about the sorting out of priorities (and it is always relevant) he pursues this simple but vital point: . . . where science thrives in democracy, it is of necessity deployed over a wide front and not switched and concentrated to anything like the extent possible under an authoritarian regime. This concentration of effort cannot be fully initiated by a democracy in time of peace.

These are, as I say, primer lessons: but, oh golly, oh Solly, are they necessary!

Lord Hailsham's approach may seem, from this, to be negative and discouraging. It is not. He is, in fact, at his most convincing in describ- ing the positive functions of government. His premise is a classical one : Thus the duty of organising science in a free society, like all other important duties, begins with the individual and covers the entire society. Government is a financing, co-ordinating, par-

* SCIENCE AND POLITICS. (Faber, 13s. 6d.), ticipating, training function. Over a large field it is not, and cannot be, directory or executive. These are functions in which the main role ought to be played by industrialists, educa- tionalists, teachers and scientists themselves.

It is impossible, here, even to summarise the kinds of methods which he thinks government should use in performing its proper role. But they should be studied by all who wish to understand the types of instrument which government has been developing in this country in order to achieve a genuine 'planning by co- operation.'

It is in these passages that the essays become reflections on the art of government which our `new men,' and not only they, should take to heart:

What we need is an administrative machine with a Minister at the head, capable collectively of isolating the right questions, conducting the proper discussion of them with the right people inside and outside the Government machine, rendering intelligible the real arguments, pro- viding at various levels of authority the means of arriving at rational conclusions with the human material in fact available, and finally supplying suitable means for carrying these conclusions into execution.

The importance of arguments such as this is exactly that they reassert—not before time--the supremacy of the political function in a free society against all the subtle and insidious argu- ments of the technocrats.

Two of Lord Hailsham's assertions may be allowed to stand in conclusion: 'We are getting a certain amount of case-law and empirical wisdom about it all'; 'We have some of the principles in our hands.' It is just such case-law, such empirical wisdom, and such principles, on which planning in a free society must rest, and which commentators too often overlook. Briefly, Lord Hailsham shows how 'le plan' can be, and is being, translated back into English.

The word, after all, is ours, and we have no reason to be ashamed of how we interpret it.