AND ANOTHER THING
Confessions of someone who has rediscovered his radicalism
PAUL JOHNSON
The effect of the Government's lamentable behaviour over the past few weeks has been to re-radicalise me. I have not felt such cold contempt for those who rule the country since the Suez scandal of 1956. In two respects I have been reluctant- ly obliged to change my mind on important issues. By nature I tend to be on the side of authority, being a Hobbesian who believes that lawful order is infinitely to be pre- ferred to what Charles de Gaulle called les delices de l'anarchie. I am a Pittite, not a Foxite. That is why I have always opposed a Freedom of Information Act. Now the Government's behaviour over the Matrix- Churchill affair, and the disclosure of a growing number of similar cases of abuse of power — together with reading Conor Cruise O'Brien's magnificent new book on Burke, of which such abuse is the theme have persuaded me that we must have an Act which prises open the secretive, authoritarian and sometimes unlawful manner in which government habitually behaves in this country.
The second change of mind, inspired by rumours of the ways in which the Govern- ment, or perhaps I should say those close to the Government, have recently been dan- gling the prospect of goodies in front of certain people, including one or two of those powerful in the media, in return for helping ministers out of the messes they have got themselves into, has persuaded me that we must change radically the way in which honours are awarded in Britain. In particular, we must abolish the Upper House in its present form completely.
One of Burke's objects in bringing for- ward his policy of 'economical reform' was to reduce the power of government patron- age, and so its ability to corrupt MPs and those who appointed them, by scrapping large numbers of lucrative offices, many of them sinecures. He, and those who carried on the battle after his death, eventually suc- ceeded. In the second quarter of the 19th century, Britain began to become the most honestly run country in human history, and its governments remained virtually corrup- tion-free thereafter. We are proud of this, and rightly. Foreigners envy us, and rightly. One of my fears about deep integration with the EEC, of the kind Maastricht will bring about, is that we will become infected with Continental-style corruption, which is dramatically on the increase, Brussels and its regulations being a prime engine of
graft. There is some evidence that the pro- cess has already started. The collapse of the traditional standards of probity involved in `winning' the Maastricht vote — Govern- ment whips ring up MPs' wives to put pres- sure on their husbands — is a sign of the way things are going. As one former Chief Whip said to me last week, 'Frankly, I am appalled at what I hear went on.'
However, what has so far gone unre- marked is that another element in the cor- ruption process, the power of government, and especially of the Prime Minister, to exercise patronage has been growing through the creation of the life peerage sys- tem. As a result, the cleansing work of Burke and his successors is being steadily reversed. The scale of the thing is formidable. During her rule, Margaret Thatcher created well over 600 life peers. That is many more than did Pitt the Younger — himself accused of making peers in scandalous numbers — although he was prime minister for much longer, 20 years. John Major, while blathering on about a classless society during the elec- tion, began creating peers at a furious rate the second he got into 10 Downing Street.
Moreover, being a peer is a very different matter than in Pitt's day. Then it involved the ennobled in considerable expenses. Today, it is a handsome uncontributory pension for life. In absolute terms, if we tot up this one item alone, the Prime Minister disposes of more cash patronage than Sir Robert Walpole at the height of the old, corrupt system. The late Bob Boothby said to me, 'My dear fellow, it's the best racket I've ever come across. I take a taxi to the Lords from Eaton Square, spend ten min- utes having a drink in the bar, clock up my daily allowance, and toddle off again. Mar- . . and that's it, vellous!' Another peer told me the other day that his usual practice is to 'drop in for ten minutes to qualify for the lolly'. This is another version of 'the Ten Minute Rule'. In addition, there is the free use of one of the best clubs on earth, special passports, all kinds of perks and privileges and free- bies, and the strong chance that your title will get you a well-paid seat as non-execu- tive director on a board or two. Maxwell employed a score at one time or another.
Consequently, the scramble for places on this gravy train is fierce, among rich and poor alike. Shareholders' money pours into charities (and other, more political, coffers) so that big shots and their wives can flaunt coronets and tiaras. Cringing and obse- quious letters pour into Downing Street, sent by the seekers themselves or by high- placed friends on their behalf. That is one aspect of the corruption. Another, more pathetic one is the way in which Labour politicians who have fought against rank and privilege all their lives find bogus justi- fications for creeping into the ermine. The fact is, they usually need the money. Thank God that Michael Foot, for one, has stood out against this humiliating surrender of principle. We must abolish the Lords completely, and substitute an elected senate. I believe such a senate should have substantial pow- ers, for two reasons. First, it must have a strong regional basis (as does the United States Senate, of course), made all the more necessary as the grip of the EEC tightens. Secondly, it must act as a check on an executive with too much power, which — as the Maastricht vote shows — can ruthlessly whip its followers, like Marlowe's Tamburlaine, into dragging its chariot of office to safety whenever danger threatens.
The rest of the honours system should also be taken out of the Prime Minister's hands. There is absolutely no reason why rewards for public service should be decid- ed by a professional politician with every kind of debt to pay and favour to buy. There should be a National Honours Com- mittee, which decides these things entirely on non-political lines, and is itself elected by a national (not regional) vote. These are deep waters, Watson, I know, and the changes I propose are fundamental. But they, or something like them, are urgently required to save our country from the creeping corruption which threatens to overwhelm it.
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