Political Commentary
Tory eunuchs in the schools
Patrick Cosgrave
Nothing in a long time has made me as angry as the shoddy, silly, shallow episode ( and I hope it will be no more than that) of the Conservative Party's ' educational ' seminars in politics for schoolchildren. I am angry for two reasons. First, I am angry because intelligent men like Lord Carrington and Sir Michael Fraser and Mr John Selwyn Gummer should be so gullible in their cunning as to believe that the press would accept from them a blatant lie — that 'these seminars and conferences were designed as a non-political exercise, designed to educate, and not to persuade. Second, I am angry that the modern Conservative Party is so deficient in imagination as to feel itself required to descend to such tawdry subterfuges as trying to sell political allegiance to children in the way that scruffy old men in mackintoshes try to sell dirty postcards to holidaying public schoolboys at all the main rail terminals in London.
It matters not a jot that one of the participants in the Tory programme has said — probably rightly — that sixthformers nowadays are probably too sceptical to be conned by speakers chosen at Central Office; and that the exercise is therefore harmless. What matters is the intention behind the exercise. That kind of intention is indicative of the nature of too much Conservative thinking nowadays. And we may approach a history of the intention by quoting Mr John Selwyn Gummer — Vice-Chairman of the Conservative Party, in charge of youth affairs — saying, "There is nothing remotely political about any of these conferences," and adding that he is guilty of a terminorogical inexactitude. Can you imagine an enormous series of meetings, going back several years, attended sometimes by the chairman of the party, often by various vice-chairmen, involving many of the best brains of the Tory Party, all discussing the same subject, and leading to the conclusion that there should be such schools conferences as have taken place; can you imagine the time and energy consumed by such committees; and can you believe that all this was done with an intention not even "remotely political "?
Now it is time for a little history. The Conservative Party began to be worried about youth on July 24, 1968, when the then Home Secretary, Mr Callaghan, announced that — in defiance of the recommendation of the Speaker's Conference — the then Government intended to introduce legislation establishing the voting age at eighteen. The Tories were worried because they believed — wrongly, as I have always argued — with Mr Wilson and Mr Callaghan, that youngsters automatically voted Socialist. First, and in a slightly ponderous way, Central Office tried to use the Young Conservatives to turn back the imagined tide of hostile youth. The most comic effort in this fairly sorry campaign was the YC pamphlet for the 1970 GLC elections, urging youth to vote for Sir (then Mr) Desmond Plummer on the grounds that he was trendy. Wise people said that the pamphlet was illiterate as well as foolish, but it went ahead. It was only belatedly recognised that the YCs were a bad source of advice on youth, partly because their membership has, in twenty years, declined from 150,000 to 40,000, partly because their average age is very much higher than the average age of the 800,000 new voters who come on to the electoral roll each year.
But, the GLC elections of 1970 being over, it was too late to change strategy before the general election of the same year. The same tiresome pamphlets were produced, and the Conservative Political Centre went on encouraging the same series of boring meetings at which youngish people discussed means of attracting young people to the Conservative banner. After the election, however, the matter was put on a more professional footing. Mr Gummer, who was energetic, if not exactly young, was given the job of finding means of attracting youth. Mr Gummer was the apex of a system of discussion which came to the conclusion that — to quote what was said at one meeting — " If you catch 'em young, you keep 'em." And that inglorious philosophy Mr Gummer has put into prac tice with his schools conferences. Sir Richard Webster — the top Tory agent — was delighted, because it gave him a prac tical way of handling a problem he had hitherto considered to be nebulous. Sir Michael Fraser — perhaps the best political brain at Central Office — was delighted because a decision reached reduced the number of meetings he had to attend. Some young people who had attended the committees lower down were unhappy, because they felt cheated; others were delighted, because they felt Mr Gummer had found them a role. The entire machinery of Central Office was thrown behind the project. Mr Gummer, last summer, asked various fellow MPs whether they would enjoy talking to schoal children about such enticing modern problems as the Third World, and Europe, and poverty; and the Speakers' Department at Central Office — which organises Conservative spokesmen for various gatherings — was instructed to ensure that anybody invited to a schools conference would be there, on time, wellbriefed. In all this, of course, there was nothing even " remotely political ". The Conservative Party was simply doing its bit for democracy. It was merely an accident that every single one of the first series of conferences took place in marginal seats. It was merely for information that children attending the conferences were invited to fill in forms, giving their names and addresses, and answering questions about politics drawn up on the advice of a public opinion firm commissioned by the Tory Party, whose questionnaires were vetted by Mr James Garrett, the Prime Minister's television consultant, who is also an expert at making TV ads for Scotch whisky, albeit those involving a White Horse. It was entirely a mistake that these forms, sent to Central Office in sealed pouches, escaped as early as they have done to Tory members in the constituencies where the conferences took place. It was an accident that more than one Tory member has discussed the matter in all its detail with his agent. And it is of course an accident that some Young Conservative canvassers subsequently called on some children who filled in the forms. Getting 'em young, and keeping 'em is not, of course even " remotely political ".
It would have been far, far better had the lie not been told. In the entire exercise — and one can see this from the minutes of all the meetings — there was precious little discussion of what Conservative vision was being offered to young people, to accept or reject as their intelligence and morality dictated: there was only the mechanistic discussion of mechanistic means of winning over youth. It was all very like what the Labour Party — and this is why criticism of the Tory effort lies ill in the mouths of such as Mr Roy Hattersley — has been doing for a generation, persuading people to vote for a political party in the supposition that they are working for an objective ideal. Against the steady infiltration of social work organisations, hospital boards, and other voluntary organisations, the Tories were forced, against their will, to devise such apparata as the Outside Organisations' Women's Committee, which advises folk of a Conservative bent on how best to defend themselves against fanatical fellowmembers of , welfare bodies who utilise supposed social consciences to win votes for the Labour Party. Now the Tories, having been justifiably defensive, have become wrongly offensive. The youth campaign is demeaning to the Conservative Party.
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