Does Parliament matter?
Jo Grimond LLooking back over 32 years in the House ooking Commons my first impression is that little has happened in politics. The place itself has certainly changed. MPs have become more like bureaucrats, the Chamber is even more sparsely filled except for the brief gladiatorial display of Prime Minister's question time. The paper moun- tains grow. TV and radio, out-bidding it as platforms for debate, have taught it some of their habits.
Prime Minister's question time is the prime example of one change, the broad- casting factor. In the 1940s, the Pi ime Minister came on at question 45. Forty- five! Today we are lucky if we get through 25 questions in the whole hour. The Leader of the Opposition was not then expected to be for ever trying to score a point. Quite often informationwas genuinely sought. More often, the Prime Minister's questions were not reached. Now at 3.15 on Tuesdays and Thursdays everyone jostles to get into the ring for the sake of the radio. An example of the bureaucratic growth is the rise of the Shadow Cabinet. When Winston led the Opposition, its leading speakers in the forthcoming debates were decided over lunch at the Savoy. The idea of 'shadows' and 'spokesmen' was invented by Attlee to keep Aneurin Bevin quiet; until then he tended to bob up on all sorts of sub- jects. Now 'shadows' with their research assistants and panels of advisers mug up their subjects like Cabinet ministers. The vast expansion of local government leading local authorities into activities • which used to be considered none of their business, the proliferation of paid staffs employed by trade associations, trade unions, quangos — an unbelievable army of organisations — have made politics a professional pastime and squeezed out the individual. Indeed in some directions it is squeezing out Parliament. Governments deal with all these organisations direct, and the organisations operate outside the parliamentary field. But the problems opportunities, han- dicaps of the country remain much the same — only magnified. We apparently grapple with the same economic difficulties: inflation, unemployment, runs on the pound, excessive public expenditure, too high interest rates. In fact the 'national economy' is synonymous with crisis. The 'crises' used to occur at intervals which tended to grow shorter. Now they seem almost continuous. Only a month or two ago we were told to throw our hats into the air for lower interest rates; then we had to clamp them firmly back on our brows as the pound nose-dived. I remember the dismay when Mr Horrabin, MP, discovered that there were too many Treasury Bills floating around (as Gordon Walker and 1 had never seen a Treasury Bill we thought of clubbing together to buy one until we discovered they cost £25,000 each). I don't remember hear- ing much about the PSBR in those days now it has taken their place in the demonology of the Chancellor. Unemploy- ment has, of course, become a much more potent devil than it then was. But even in the happy days of Mr Attlee we were much worried by underdeveloped areas.
At any rate, Westminster and the City do not seem to have made much progress in either managing the economy or changing it. Yet measured in terms of petrol and drink consumed, washing machines, col- oured television, Costa Brava holidays, children's toys and women's clothing (even men's) the country has had 32 years of pro- sperity. Ton upon ton of concrete has been poured over the face of Britain with debatable results; and lawyers, accoun- tants, civil servants and money manipulators have flourished. The health service, the services to pensioners and the poor, may seem extravagant now, they may indeed be straining our resources, but a lot of people have had their lives greatly im- proved by them.
Since 1950, however, has Parliament and the government it has provided, mattered much one way or the other? Real life seems somewhat detached. The heap of legislation grows annually. The Chancellor juggles here and jiggles there. I suppose it makes some difference. I am at a loss to know what. Under the Conservatives the propor- tion of the GDP passing through the government's hands has actually risen. Governments tax and subsidise. One month the local authorities are rapped for ex- travagance, then they are told to spend more. I know it can all be explained, but the explanations themselves only make the unreal more unreal. The taxation system is made annually more obscure. Billions of pounds are found for some purposes, none are available for others.
I suppose things have been like this since the world began, especially in regimes of decline. One can imagine the more in- dustrious courtiers at Versailles or the Escorial toiling away at their desks while outside the windows the weight of ineffec- tive government crushed industry and agriculture. After reaching a certain size, government becomes almost totally absorb- ed in running itself.
If we closed up Parliament, the press (less the Spectator) and television for a spell, I
wonder whether most of the population would know whether things were going well or badly, getting better or worse. The alter- native to a news black-out is to cook the news. Perhaps this goes on already. Who can possibly know whether the figures for trade are right or wrong? Columns of statistics march through the pages of of- ficial blue, white and green papers; does anyone ever check them? Once we have the full horror of cable-worship we shall need even more statistics. The temptation to rig them will be irresistible. Announce a dramatic fall in the unemployed, superb buoyancy of the pound, marvellous trade balances, sharp decline in the retail prices at Tooting, inflation at zero, car sales boom- ing and we shall be prancing about like unicorns let out to grass — for at least long enough to hold a general election.
I am very sorry to be leaving the House of Commons but have not one pang of regret that I shall not fight another general elec- tion. Worse even than bridge, elections combine stupefying boredom with bursts of activity ending often in humiliation. The worst number to attract to a meeting is six — too many for a chat, too few to sustain impassioned oratory. But to score none, as quite often happened to me, is tantamount to a setback. If the hall is full it usually means a local grievance with which you may or may not be able to cope. Election ad- dresses set out to be worthy of Burke but end up like advertisements for jumble sales (redeemed in my case by being beautifully laid out by the local newspaper). Like a cold bath, the only pleasure in a general election is getting out of it successfully.
I am far from sure how parliamentary politics will develop. The constant pressure for 'more' by self-interested bodies, most of whom do not contribute to our wealth, should be tackled but there is little sign that it will be. The officials of organisations make their living by telling us how awful everything is. The Falkland Islands euphoria is exceedingly alarming since world war is the great climax which threatens us all. I fear that Mrs Thatcher considers herself our greatest general since Wellington and may consider chancing her arm again. In the meantime no one is in control of public expenditure, and the government seem unable to control their celebrated protege, the money supply. Much-needed changes, if they are to come at all, will come from outside Parliament. From changes in the structure of industry, for instance. Management may come to see that the participation of workers is vital. Trade unions may see that they must make industry more efficient or lose their jobs. The government must get off the back of the entrepreneur and big institutional spen- ders must think more about how the wealth they spend is to be won. Other channels for investment in new industry must be found and new channels for savings other than pension funds and savings banks.
Then Parliament may get round to reduc- ing and improving legislation. If that leadership for which so many people shout is to be hatched, it will come out of the populist egg. Politics on all sides are grown paternal. That quite suits elderly gentlemen like me but we can at most undertake a little jogging; any sprinting in politics is likely to come from unconventional toughs outside the parliamentary club, though possibly Members of Parliament.
Violence too will only be stopped when the ordinary people make it hot for mug-
gers and robbers and the press and televi- sion cease either boosting violence, physical and mental, or treating it with bland tolerance. For a responsible paper the remarks of the Economist on the intimida- tion of Mr Ley in Lambeth were to say the least of it astonishing. 'His middle-class former colleagues in the SDP have claimed these incidents explain his defection.' The implication being that to resent being timidated is a mamby-pamby middle-class foible. The 'incidents' included smashing the windows of his shop seven times, setting his car on fire, wrecking his lorries and ter' rifying his family. The Economist goes on to remark 'But violence is traditional iu political and trade union life across the river'. I have no reason to suppose this true, but if it were, some hard words viol be in order. Neither the Home Secretary nor the police can make either this COwin"); or Northern Ireland safe to live in without the active help of neighbours, the press and television. The same is true of politics In general.
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