SPECTATOR'S NOTEBOOK
J. W. M. THOMPSON
The siting of London's dreaded third air- port will, in all probability, be one of the first and most contentious decisions the next government will have to take. The Roskill commission began public hearings in London this week, and its timetable indi- cates a recommendation in favour of one of the four short-listed sites about a year from now. Even if it makes a choice ahead of the general election, however, it is likely that the present government will defer a decision, or that if it makes one its succes- sor could well feel free to reconsider it. For although this inquiry is going about its task with a monumental thoroughness, at the end of its labours it can only offer a suggestion. The final choice will be a politi- cal judgment, made by the government of the day. The cliff-hanging nature of this whole, extraordinary affair will persist to the very (and probably bitter) end.
At the commission's first public session this week, I found it easy to believe that this end was still a long way off indeed. The massed ranks of lawyers waiting to have their say, the rows of protesters ready to defend their territory to the last ditch, the air of infinitely leisurely and pains- taking inquiry—all contributed to a sense of almost indefinite debate ahead. An illu- sion, of course. But what was not illusory was the accompanying sense that the crea- tion and operation of this great quasi-judi- cial administrative machine is as hopeful a political development as has occurred in years: a giant stride from the early days of the anti-Stansted campaign, when small groups met in private houses to ask each other how they could make their protest heard and then went home to stick posters in their windows.
Much will be heard against the coastal site at Foulness during coming weeks, not- ably from aviation interests. Nevertheless, the words of Mr Maurice Hackett, chairman of the South East Economic Planning Council, still appear prophetic. 'Bear in mind,' he has warned the commission, 'that everybody in the south-east, in their hearts, feel Foulness is the place.' A government (or commission) will have to feel very sure of itself indeed to disregard that feeling.
Delusion
According to one analysis of the events at the National Union of Students' annual con- ference, 'the students have given notice that they believe they have power and they are prepared to use it.' They are, of course, not alone in this belief that they 'have power'. Moreover, if they go on saying it often enough, and the 'media' amplify it obedi- ently, and enough other people repeat it, then it may well become true: they will wield power because others will have pre- sented it to them.
But it is, for all that, at present quite untrue. Students are jolly boys and girls, for the most part, and they enjoy themselves in a traditional way by finding fault with their surroundings and rebelling against authority. This is perfectly natural. But power—that is a different matter altogether. Students as a group (if they must think of themselves as a group) probably have certain interests in common; they may well exercise a certain influence in some directions. They do not exercise power. This delusion of 'power' arises from the confusion of organised students with organ- ised workers. If it pleases undergraduates to pretend that they are identical with factory workers in all respects, then that is their affair; but it isn't true. Organised workers can sometimes exercise power by action or threat of action, because without them society cannot function. Students, on the other hand, however displeasing to some of them the fact may be, are deprived of that weapon. If they doubt it, Mr Jack Straw and his lively colleagues could possibly arrange a students' strike by way of practical experiment.
This would demonstrate, not only that society felt itself able to manage remark- ably well even though students were on strike, but also that in the process the students had probably forfeited the only power which, strictly as students, they already possess— namely, the power to draw money from the rest of the nation until they are able to earn their own. They would, in fact, be shown to possess no more power than any other arbitrarily defined group of electors, which of course is as it should be. There is no reason why market gardeners aged fifty, or red-haired men in Dorset, or milkmen with brown eyes, or students, should have any special claim to `power'. Or journalists, for that matter.
Realism is relative
It's curious how often what is called 'per- missiveness' in the entertainment industry goes with a particularly prissy sort of self- justifying verbiage. After all, female enter- tainers have been taking off their clothes in front of audiences for thousands of years; yet actresses who feel that their work re- quires them to do this have now taken to accompanying the exhibition with a solemn dose of modish jargon. It is only done, we are led to believe, in order to enhance the validity and relevance of the confrontation and dialogue with the audience, or some such stuff. Huh. Miss Diana Rigg, the latest actress to appear starkers except for a cluster of long words, duly honoured the custom with some interviews of a numbing solem- nity. It's an interesting phenomenon. I hope it doesn't mean that they fear we might basely suspect them of being attracted by the publicity, or anything like that.
Even more puzzling to me in this instance, though, is the choice of a play about Heloise and Abelard as a vehicle for the brave new sexual realism. It's all very well for Miss Rigg, as Heloise, to trot about naked in the interests of absolute authenticity: it's the actor playing the part of Abelard I am worried about. Does he yet know what hap- pened to poor Abelard? And if so, how com- mitted is he to total realism on the stage, for goodness sake?
Protest
It's probably too late: but need we accept this antipodean idiom which has suddenly appeared in reports of the royal tour, and which is embodied in the recent Telegraph headline: 'Queen to go walkabout . . Whether this is Pidgin English or Orthodox Strine I know not: over here it sounds like Baby Talk and I am sure we could do with out it.
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