SPECTATOR'S NOTEBOOK
J. W. M. THOMPSON
Randolph Churchill's obituarists have made much of the extent to which he was over- shadowed by his father: perhaps too much. His peculiar virtues and failings always seemed to me to be given a pretty free rein; had he been less independent by nature the story might have been different. Of course he had disappointments in life (who hasn't?)—especi- ally in politics; but even if he had been born Randolph Smith it is hard to see him subsiding into the dutiful pattern of a modern politician, since a sweeping disregard of what others thought of him was one of his strongest charac- teristics. At times this could show itself in unattractive ways; when I first set eyes on him he was behaving rather roughly to a waiter and the spectacle was not endearing. A better acquaintance over the years suggested that this sort of arrogance was merely the shadowy side of a priceless quality; and to his great credit he was mellowed, not embittered, by disap- pointments. Randolph, in fact, was a rare soul who didn't give a damn. Like his father, he had much of the outsider in his make-up.
This was naturally the mainspring of his at times brilliant controversial journalism. To be with him when one of his campaigns was in progress was great fun, for he effervesced with the gay and witty pugnacity of a man born to enjoy contention. But he could also be endearing in another and gentler way. You could spend an afternoon with him investi- gating the enviable garden he had made at East Bergholt and never hear a sharp word. He had a great taste for gardens (always a sign of grace), although he once explained to me that in his gardening he claimed only those rights allotted by Bagehot to a constitutional sovereign—'to be consulted, to encourage and to warn.'
Now I think of it, he did a vast amount of these three things in his too short life. It's sad to think we shall have no more of his inimit- able articles in the SPECTATOR; I believe his review of Lady Cynthia Asquith's diaries, which appeared last month, was his last piece of journalism. And it's sad that his great biography of Sir Winston must now pass into other hands. I remember Iain Macleod telling me that he would like to write Randolph's own life one day. Certainly it ought to be written.
Silent service
Public opinion is stirring at long last to understand the horror of what is happening in Biafra and the ignoble part played by Britain in the war there but why has it taken so long? Partly because there has been scarcely a whisper from the House of Commons before the emergency debate on Wednesday. partly because Whitehall has studiously cultivated a bland silence on the subject. Thus, the Central Office of Information publishes a weighty fort- nightly Survey of British and Commonwealth Affairs for British Information Services. The existence of a bloody civil war within the Commonwealth, stoked up by liberal supplies of British arms to one side only, might be thought to figure largely in this record; but it doesn't. Items about rIC trade with Hungary or land purchase programmes in Kenya, yes; but on the slaughter of scores of thousands within the Commonwealth, not a word has been published since July 1967. After that— 'darkness again, and a silence.'
Time for a change
Most American experts now tell us Vice- President Humphrey has the Democratic nomination in his pocket, and the reasoning is persuasive. But ever since Robert Kennedy was shot I've had an unscientific hunch that the political beneficiary of the assassination could somehow prove to be Senator McCarthy, the only surviving candidate who represents the idea of a new start, a fundamental change of direction and style; for America in her present black mood must crave such a change. I realise, of course, that in practical terms it is almost impossible to see how this could coma about, short of an astonishing McCarthy boom in the public opinion polls in coming weeks.
In any event I still find Senator McCarthy quite the most interesting man on the scene, not least because he remains somehow enig- matic. Take, for example, his role in the 1960 convention. He nominated Adlai Stevenson as presidential candidate, and a Kennedy- oriented historian, Sorensen, writes of that speech as being 'cynically brilliant,' adding that McCarthy was 'actually for Johnson.' But was he? Theodore White (The Making of the President) doesn't support the suggestion at all. What he does, however, is describe the speech in what now seem startling terms: 'In mag- nificent voice, holding the crowd with the rhythm of his cry, toying with the crowd, letting it respond when he asked questions . . . It was a superb speech.' It's hard to recognise in this the soporific lecturer of the present cam- paign. • It may be that McCarthy has quite deliberately chosen a subdued and scholarly note; if so, perhaps in these post-assassination days the other McCarthy will reappear, and to good effect.
Greek fire
I congratulate Mrs Helen Vlachos on the first issue of her Hellenic Review. Since she gave the Athens colonels the slip and came to London she has conducted a spirited campaign to inform the rest of the world of the true nature of Greece's miserable regime, and the logical climax was the creation of a new paper outside Greece to say what her own newspapers, for the time being closed down, cannot say. The Hellenic Review has a tough, sardonic, very Greek character and contains much unpublished material about the doings of the junta. As Mrs Vlachos notes, a year of military dictatorship has left a gap in Greek history; the ruthless censorship obliterates the facts. As an example of how she proposes to fill the gap, the Review prints an analysis of 'what happened to the Greek army,' which reveals (with names) the startling extent of the colonels' purge of senior officers. I expect this brave journal to be gratefully received by Greeks and friends of Greece in many coun- tries. It's even reaching Greece itself, for although no agents there would touch it, of course, Mrs Vlachos tells me a number of private orders have been received—to be supplied in plain envelopes.
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