AND ANOTHER THING
What's it like, John, down there in the class-war sewer?
PAUL JOHNSON
It was not only immoral of John Major to try to breath fiery life into the dying embers of the class war — at the precise moment when the Labour Party has finally aban- doned it — it was also a tactical error. Immoral because the class war, like any other war, is cruel, indiscriminate and destructive — pointlessly so, too, for no one ever wins a class war: we are all losers thereby. To preach class war is at least as bad as to preach race war, worse in Eng- land because though the English are not racists by nature, they suffer from the dead- ly sin of envy, and so are only too easily turned into class warriors.
For Major to insinuate that 'Tony Blair is unfairly privileged because he went to a public school' is an extraordinary charge to be made by the head of a party once led by Peel and Disraeli, Balfour and Law, Bald- win, Churchill, Macmillan and Thatcher who, however much they differed in other ways, loathed class warfare and did every- thing in their power to end it. It confirms my long-held view that underneath the commonplace affability of Major, lurking behind the toothy smiles, the indiscriminate handshaking and dime-store geniality, lurks a larrikin whose moral home is the Whips' Office — which, of course, is where he real- ly comes from, not Brixton. So far as I can see, Major has no beliefs whatever; no creed or political principles, no faith, no Weltanschauung and no policy except day- to-day expediency. There is a bland exterior through which nothing seems to penetrate. But when the tightly screwed lid on this human cliché-container is loosened, as it very occasionally is, the contents always emit a strong whiff of sulphur.
Then again, it is bad politics for Major to challenge people about their class cre- dentials. What is objected to in him is not that he comes from nowhere. So do most of us. It is rare in England (quite different in Wales, Scotland and Ireland) to meet someone who has much idea of who his great-grandparents were, while beyond that is an almost certain blank. No, what we object to in Major is that he is a liar and that he presides over the most corrupt set-up since the dark days of the Lloyd George coalition. I have refused to believe a word Major says since he told that lie about never negotiating with the Irish gun- men — and of course one of his Cabinet colleagues has said openly that lying is part of the business of government. As for the corruption and the sleaze, it is perfectly obvious that Major feels he cannot afford to let the whole truth be told. Otherwise he would immediately set up a tribunal of inquiry under the 1921 Act, presided over by a tough-minded, no-nonsense judge, who would be empowered to summon wit- nesses to attend and testify, and compel them to be legally represented, and force them to swear to tell the truth, with the real danger of going to prison for perjury if they did not. Then we might get the full story and discover not only how many politicians Mohamed Al Fayed has corrupted but how many journalists too — and who they all are — and whether there are other people like Al Fayed lurking in the Westminster undergrowth. But Major knows that he, or his colleagues, or his followers, have too much to hide for that.
As I say, we don't object to where Major comes from. But if he demands to know about his opponents' class origins, it is only fair to ask him, 'What class do you and your cronies belong to now? You are not exactly working class, are you? — eh, Major? though most of you have a professional background in the shifting-bits-of-financial- paper-around trade. But then you're not gents, either. Of course some of you get yourselves Land-Rovers and rent a bit of shooting and buy yourselves into this and that. But it's all a bit of a fraud, isn't it, John, all social cosmetics and PR stagecraft and image-fabrication? When it comes to the things that distinguish the real gentle- man, like a sense of honour and a compul- sion to tell the truth even when it hurts, and bedrock notions of duty and patriotism and public service — these are qualities you and your grubby churns can't buy or rent or fab- ricate, so you haven't got 'em, have you? I'll tell you, Mr Major, what class you and those like you at the top of the present-day Tory Party belong to. You belong to the Opportunist Class. You are out for what `She's got her mother's breasts.' you can get, in it for what it's worth, dedi- cated to looking after Number One.
And, since you started to dish out home- truths, might I ask you to have a word with your colleague, Michael Heseltine? Hezza was making great play at Bournemouth with the background and wealth of Jimmy Goldsmith. He did not exactly say he was a plutocratic foreign Jew, but that was cer- tainly the implication conveyed to the faith- ful. And if you indulged in a touch of class warfare, why shouldn't old Blondielocks engage in a touch of race warfare too?
Now I know you are very fond of Hesel- tine since he did that behind-closed-doors deal with you, which kept you Prime Minis- ter and made him your deputy. All the same, I think you should warn him to keep a low profile on who has made what and how. For it was Hezza, as you remember, who spilled the beans on how he got rich. The way to do it, said Heseltine, is to bor- row money, and then refuse to pay it back, or pay it back late, or wait until the other fellow takes you to court. Order goods or supplies, and don't pay for them until you absolutely legally have to. That's how Hezza made his potatoes and don't we know it, those of us who were foolish enough to write commissioned articles for Town magazine when he owned it. So Heseltine became a millionaire and he stayed out of jail, and he fits naturally into the kind of government you run, doesn't he, Major? But don't let us have any hum- bug about Jimmy Goldsmith, please. After all, you know, and we know, you'd have tried to buy him off with a peerage if you'd thought there was any chance of it working.
Last week's Conservative conference, coming on top of much other evidence, leaves no doubt that we are in for a dirty election. The rather desperate men who run the Government's strategy (and they are all men, I notice — women don't seem to come into it at all, not for that purpose anyway) have persuaded themselves there is no other way to play it. It will not work, of course, and it may have the opposite effect to the one intended. And I shall be very surprised indeed if Tony Blair, or any- one else over whom he has control, retali- ates in kind. He is not that sort of person. And anyway, there is no need. Blair is in the happy position of being able to watch his opponents prepare to lower themselves into the sewer, knowing they will almost certainly drown in it.
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