Political Commentary
Locusts and honey
Frank Johnson My theme is 'the political wilderness': resignation, back benches, warnings to a sleeping nation, storm clouds gathering over Europe/the British economy/Southall, eventual vindication, triumphal return to Office, and all that. The subject is prompted by the death of Lord Avon, and by the fact a lot of senior politicians are at present forswearing the front bench so as to be free to alert the country to approaching disaster; or, depending upon the way one looks at these things, are trying to get in on the Lonely Man of Destiny racket. Such a figure forms one of the most potent myths °,f our politics: a myth greatly assisted by the career of Lord Avon, who is discussed ,Illy by Mr Grigg elsewhere in this issue, and still more spectacularly by that of Churchill. Does it not hold out to the ambitious the prospect of embodying the National Will; writing one's memoirs in a Pastiche of Gibbon; a state funeral ? Could it not be, however, that the Churchill-Eden IdYll was unique, and those who have attempted the same sort of thing—before and since—were, and are, on to a certain loser
? Consider the track records in that Wilderness, if you will forgive the infelicity.
We must distinguish between politicians who are orthodox opportunists, and those Who want to prosecute great causes. Both are to be found among resigners. After the rise of the party machine, and of the wider franchise, the first major Orthodox opportunist to try the resignation r.;..loy was Lord Randolph Churchill in 1886. he issues involved in his resignation from th, e Exchequer were slight. He appears s,"11131Y to have wanted to establish himself an alternative leader. He quit under the 1Mpression that he would be swept back by PoPular acclaim, which had happened earlier when he resigned the chairmanship of the party organisation. He became one ri f the earliest politicians to confuse power the party with power in a government. allsbury simply gave his job to Goschen, 4.,Orti Lord Randolph had forgotten. 1 he resignation of Aneurin Bevan in r7SI over the budget—and his less oftenjrriembered departure from the Shadow , a.hinet in 1954 in protest over the formation of SEATO—contain elements both of ocPportunism and of the desire to deal in beat Causes. He wanted to lead the Left, ,sut he also wanted to be Prime Minister "r at least Foreign Secretary. The two wants °ved incompatible, By detaching himself inr°rn a Party leadership which was 'betray0”,,S socialism,' he easily got the leadership Li the Left, which he could probably have trl anyway, When he made his peace with
e Party leadership in 1956-57, eventually becoming Shadow Foreign Secretary, it was on right-wing terms, and involved infuriating the Left with a sudden devotion to nuclear weapons.
The resignations from the Treasury in January 1958 of Lord Thorneycroft, Mr Enoch Powell, and the then Mr Nigel Birch (now Lord Rhyl) over excessive public spending no doubt allowed each of them to leave with the Tory Party their visiting, or departure, cards as enemies of inflation. But Mr Powell, in order to hold Cabinet office again, had to serve in a later government which was embarking upon a notably inflationary 'dash for growth.' Lord Thorneycroft served as Defence Minister in the same government. The refusal to serve in 1963 by lain Macleod—essentially an insider politician bent on the Premiership or at least the Foreign Office or Treasury— looked promising, from his point of view, at the time. Sir Alec seemed an electoral dud, and to detach oneself from him looked no great risk. But Sir Alec only just lost the 1964 election. The 'disloyalty' was a factor preventing Macleod from being a candidate for the leadership in 1965. Macleod then prudently came out of the desert and accepted a shadow portfolio. His adventure had been pointless.
Lord Avon's example—a return to high office without one having to suck up to the regime against which one had rebelled—was exceptional because of vast events rare in world history, let alone British domestic politics. The Great Myth is based upon the Great Exception. Even so, Lord Avon (and Churchill) had to accept the patronage of the old regime for a limited season, both returning to office under Chamberlain at the outbreak of war.
And the present ? Mr Powell, Mr Heath, Sir Harold Wilson, Mr Roy Jenkins and Mr Prentice are variously described as being in the wilderness. It is a new concept : the crowded wilderness. Can you have such a thing? Certainly, it is no more a contradiction in terms than the `chorus of hermits' to be found in an early Verdi opera.
Mr Powell is the longest-serving occupant. He has been in and out of the area as if it were the London Underground. He has been smiting people with the jaw-bone of an ass, or whatever it was they got up to in the Biblical version of the place, for so long that it is impossible to discern his long-term aim. He is' nearly always being proved right about one thing or another. Whether that will lead him back, no one knows—particularly himself. It is more likely a bar to any return. What of Mr Heath ? Here one must enter a protest. It is surely impermissible that any party leader who loses too many elections, gets turfed out of the job, and then wanders the television screens vaguely warning of unspecified disaster, and broadly embracing the opposite of whatever his successor is saying at any given moment, should qualify as a statesman in exile. Roy Jenkins? If he qualifies, then that wilderness must contain many an oasis from which gushes forth much cool, refreshing money. In his case, the locusts and wild honey which form the Baptist's wilderness diet in Matthew III, iv will no doubt be washed down with a discreet Château Margaux. He too does not really count. It is Mr Prentice who is perhaps the real thing. He is undoubtedly a believer in The Myth. He is likely to stand as an independent against the official Labour candidate at the next general election. His resignation speech warned of government responsibility for a variety of looming disasters. Most significant of all, like Churchill and Avon in the 1930s, he is anxious for crossbench contacts. One reads of his having lunch with Mr David Steel. He appears on a Tory Reform Group platform. Furthermore, his few Labour associates are curiously reticent in telling one about it all—a rarity in that talkative party. He is obviously up to something.
Mr Prentice, then, is banking on an upheaval of parties comparable with 1940—the mythical year. But he has no Hitler—just an economy boringly, and steadily, running down. While he waits in hope, his activities are intruded upon by Sir Harold—who, by some accounts, also chose exile for some deep reasons. Sir Harold recently gave an interview to the Newham Recorder which was unnoticed in the well-informed prints. In it he supported Mr Prentice's claim to the official Newham candidacy, said he admired him, deplored the Andy Bevan appointment, and again denounced left-wing 'comers-in.' This was a marked change from their relationship when in office. Then the Prime Minister is said to have been in the habit of sending Mr Prentice—as well as Mr Bennlengthy notes in longhand explaining Cabinet collective responsibility in terms worthy of British Constitution at GCE '0' Level. Among Labour right-wingers, there is wry speculation about Sir Harold's possible emergence as the man warning the nation of the danger from the Left. Sir Harold, they say, dislikes the idea that Mr Callaghan might hold the party together. Sir Harold's claim to the history books rests on his being the only one who could do that. Wilson ian denunciations of the Left might assist the break-up. Sir Harold could then say that, though he would have preferred a united party, the resultant realignment with moderates of other parties, though regrettable, was the next best thing. Mr Prentice, being only human, would surely resent that. It is a cut-throat place, this wilderness. There is a lot of competition there.
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