POLITICAL COMMENTARY

Harold Wilson's status symbol

DAVID WALDER

During the last week or so Labour MPS and parliamentary candidates have been posi- tively rooting around in their constituencies for audiences to whom they can deliver the glad tidings of the Great Surplus. Of course, there are a number of reasons why the appearance of a £451 million sur- plus for the first three-quarters of the cur- rent financial year is not necessarily enough, on its own, to justify the Government's travelling all over the place to congratulate itself. Over-concentration upon the balance of payments blinds the eye to the more vital consideration of economic growth. Again, there are still debts to be paid and although some are being paid the methods used are not necessarily conducive to long-term solv- ency and stability.

Nevertheless, in purely political terms I have to admit that this seems like mere quibbling. ,Both political parties have, per- haps foolishly, accepted the tilting-ground of the payments balance in which to show off their own prowess or demonstrate their opponent's clumsiness. Neither can now withdraw from the lists. So the public watches the thick black line on the television graphs thrust upwards or droop downwards and judges as it has been instructed to judge.

A few months ago we had a foretaste of what was to come. In a riveting exchange on the box about voting habits in by-elec- tions Mr Eric Lubbock, the Orpington plain man's oracle, turgidly observed that the effect of bad weather always had to be con- sidered. At which Mr Denis Healey, laugh- ing infectiously, said something about 'the warm glow of the balance of payments', thus conjuring up a picture of Labour voters dancing in the rain to the polling stations.

Well, the warm glow has brightened up a bit since then, but has not exactly become a fiery cross in the hands of Wilson's men as they speed across the countryside. They have made their speeches, but they have been cautious speeches. Labour has 'got the economy right', 'Britain has at last got its sums right' (whatever that may mean) are typical examples. Such moderation, even ambiguity, if deliberate, is well placed—for the very good reason that no one knows what was to come. In a riveting exchange is going to do with it on 14 April.

His own feelings can be well imagined. Every Prime Minister has his status symbol.

With Harold Macmillan it was the indepen- dent nuclear deterrent. With Harold Wilson it is the balance of payments surplus—for did he not gain power by his fingernails in 1964 with constant harping upon the Great Tory Deficit? It would seem, therefore, to be asking a great deal of him that he should not be allowed longer than a few weeks in which to finger his new possession, wave it in the face of the opposition, show it off to the Americans and brandish it at cowering Zurich gnomes.

Something of this feeling is shared, of course, by Mr Roy Jenkins. A dedicated Common Marketeer (to say tat he is more dedicated than his Prime Minister is to say very little), he would like to hang on to a surplus, not perhaps as a key, but certainly as a letter of reference easing entry into Europe.

There is, however, the little matter of a general election; which, like the imminence of hanging, concentrates men's minds won- derfully, especially upon their own predica- ment. Inevitably, too, public men, hitherto devoted single-mindedly to the common weal and of course the good of their party, begin to harbour thoughts tinned ever so slightly by personal ambition.

One public man, Mr James Callaghan (whose ambitions know no bounds, despite ' his disarming facial expression), has already begun to prepare his election image. Once Chancellor, then excluded from the Inner Cabinet, he seems determined to make the most of the office he now holds. To judge from his recent thunderings in the Commons he hopes to go down in history as the Home Secretary who finally stamped out porno- graphy. As every sane man knows, this is far more of a danger to our British way of life than the decline in law and order, the growth of violence, death on the roads or cancer of the lung. So Jim will stamp upon it wherever it raises an unclothed leg, and so forward to the general election as the Saviour of the Nation. And of the party?

For Barbara Castle (whose ambitions know no bounds) the future seems not so simple or encouraging. Originally her tasks and the proposed powers to implement them were enormous. At times it seemed as if she were the Lady to solve the Labour Problem, almost alone. With, of course, help and encouragement from the Prime Minister. Now that both are in retreat, like those two genial rogues, Butch Cassidy and the Sun- dance Kid, once mounted on two horses, they now ride away uncomfortably on one, and their fate is shared.

For Roy Jenkins (whose ambitions know no bounds) there are, however, still oppor- tunities for independent action. As Chancel- lor on the eve of a budget he can almost override the Prime Minister—especially in election year, when he is unsackable. His Treasury advisers, turning themselves inside out to give no appearance of political bias, will have given him the widesrset of options so that he can be as tough or as generous as he pleases.

He would undoubtedly like to be gener- ous, not only to present the unusual picture of a Labour Chancellor reducing taxation and so dishing the Tories, but also because, although in manner and appearance a cold fish, he would dearly like to be loved by his own party, which does not at the moment love him a bit. Such a feeling might be use- ful one day if, for instance, Harold Wilson loses the next election. But will Labour's chances be improved or lessened by a gener- ous give-away budget?

From the Labour back benches, with a goodish sprinkling of persons whose ambi- tions, far from knowing no bounds, are very confined indeed, being limited in most cases to holding the seats they won in 1964 and 1966, there can be only one answer. Jenkins last year bashing the rich and the almost rich was all right, and raised the only cheer on a dismal budget day: but let us have something more positive this time. 'Blatant electioneering,' the opposition benches will bellow, but so what? Let us at least have some electioneering; the more blatant, the better. The abstract mathematical beauty of Britain getting its sums right is not the stuff of which eve of poll meetings are made.

The final question, then, among those who take the decision or have any influence upon its taking, is, `Will the electorate fall for it?' Maybe by the autumn, with a good number of wage demands met, taxation as the number one subject of political discus- sion will have fallen down the charts, to be replaced (as no doubt the designers of those posters hope) by a discussion of the relative amounts of heart and soul possessed by either party.

My own view is that the electorate is just a little too sophisticated to fall for a last-minute return of its own money. Bom- bardment by television does breed a certain cynicism about the ways of advertisers and politicians, the latter suffering not so much from their answers as by the thoughts bred by the questions put to them. The hoped-for reaction from the public, 'Oh it's Harold this and Harold that, and chuck him out the brute But it's thank you Mr Wilson when he's handing out the loot' (as Kipling might have put it) is just a wee bit too simple.

But Roy Jenkins can only go on savour- ing his delicious alternatives for a limited time. Even the other set of alternatives (in- cluding the possibility of an election lost) must have crossed the Chancellor's mind and not necessarily caused him complete dissatisfaction at their prospect. In that event Barbara Castle will be carried away with Harold Wilson and Mr Jenkins's only rival for the leadership of the Labour party will be Jim Callaghan, already creeping up on the rails. Is the suppression of unsolicited pornography enough? Hardly. To win, Jim Callaghan would have to argue that his own policies would have produced better results, a difficult task when all his predictions when in the office were, with a quite incredible consistency and speed, proved wrong.

One final word or two of warning, how- ever, to the Chancellor as he reflects during what has been described as his 'pre-budget purdah'. He can be overborne by the Prime Minister. Now Roy Jenkins is politically long-sighted just as Harold Wilson has so often been proved to be equally short- sighted. At the present moment, however, the Prime Minister's defect is a positive advantage. He has only to think of winning the general election—nothing else. So what- ever Roy Jenkins puts up by way of pro- posals which might conceivably have some other purpose or possibility in view, they will be countered.

For (the misquotation of Kipling being habit-forming): It's Harold this, and Harold that, and anything you please; But Harold ain't a bloomin' fool—you bet that Harold sees!'