POLITICS
Fat heads, thin skins, and an every day story of repression
SIMON HEFFER
One of the effects of the Tory election victory was supposed to be a surge in the Government's self-confidence. We are still waiting. The sensitivity to criticism, para- noia about the press and intolerance of dis- sent that characterised the Tory party before 9 April still characterise it now. Indeed, to judge from the activities of some of the Conservative whips before this week's vote on the Maastricht Treaty, things may even be getting worse.
A minister with that admirable but nearly extinct quality for which the Tories were once famous — 'bottom' — made an acute observation to me about Mrs Thatcher's speech in the Hague last Friday. This, you may recall, is the speech that caused one decerebrate Tory MP to say she was head- ed for 'outer space'. It provoked some min- isters to volunteer to the Sunday papers that Mrs Thatcher was 'a spent force'. 'I have read Mrs T's speech,' said the Minis- ter, one of the most solidly pro-European in his party, and a Heseltine supporter in November 1990. 'And I can't find a word in it that's against Government policy.'
`So why,' I asked, 'are so many of your colleagues queueing up to denounce it?'
`Lack of experience. Poor judgment. Failure to understand politics. Ridiculously thin skins. Lack of leadership. I don't know why they always have to over-react.'
I don't know either, but the circumstan- tial evidence supports my interlocutor's suggestions. 'There are other factors. In a brilliant column in last Monday's Guardian Mr Ian Aitken assaulted the critics of Mrs Thatcher's sensible speech. He branded them 'sycophants' who until 18 months ago had done whatever they suspected would ingratiate them with her; now they did whatever they suspect will ingratiate them with Mr Major.
One of the problems with having what seems to be a one-party state is that it offers MPs the prospect of lengthy employ- ment in the highest offices. The chauffeur- driven car, diary secretaries, and frequent invitations to lunch with the Editor of The Daily Telegraph at Brooks's Club are the prizes awaiting those who can stay on the ladder. In the absence of a great original brain or any administrative skill, the best way to survive is by ruthless brown-nosing.
`Of course all promotion is on merit,' one old Lobby hand observed, hearing of the threats issued against potential Maastricht rebels. 'The most accomplished oilers shall be promoted first.' The Maastricht vote has been an eye-opener to those brought up on the comparatively relaxed whipping regime of the last five or six years. Admittedly, the Tories are accustomed to having a three- figure majority rather than one of 21, and there is a new sense of urgency. Yet, bar- ring a spectacular piece of cunning by Labour, with them changing their mind at the last minute and voting against the Treaty, there was never any prospect but that the Government would win the vote by miles. That, though, was not good enough for the Chief Whip, Mr Richard Ryder.
Younger men suspected of wavering were told they would never get a job if they did not vote for the Treaty. Mr Roger Knapman, the Parliamentary Private Secre- tary to Mr Archie Hamilton, the defence minister, was summarily fired when it was heard he would be voting against. Normal- ly, PPSs are allowed to wait until they vote against the Government before having to resign. Mr Knapman's premature martyr- dom was like a public execution pour encourager les autres.
One new boy, according to a legend already taking root, was told by his Whip after barely a week in the House that he was already on the 'black list' because of his `attitude' (an attitude which includes hostil- ity to the Treaty). Older members, with the exception of a few beyond the pale, were reminded that knighthoods are not a right, but have to be earned. (How appropriate it would be if, having therefore voted for the Government, the knights-in-waiting fell vic- tim to Mr Major's reformed honours poli- cy.) All waverers were told to forget having any nights off for the next four years. 'If this is how they behave on a vote they are going to win comfortably,' said one MP, `then God knows what it will be like when things get really rough.'
That, perhaps, is the psychology. It used to be said that all a schoolmaster had to do if he wanted to subdue a class of unruly boys was to bring out to the front the least bad boy and clout him. By stamping his personality on the party directly after the election in a similar way, Mr Ryder hopes that when things get 'really rough' he will have few managerial problems. However, it is more complicated than that. Whips have been saying in recent days that 'John won the election single-handed. You owe it to John to vote for Maastricht. You wouldn't be here without him.' Maastricht has become an article of faith for a party that knows it still harbours deep divisions.
The whips are always keen to keep a Prime Minister happy. They seem, though, to believe that this one can be kept content only by a near-unanimous approval of Maastricht, rather than simply an over- whelming one. One as robust as he surely cannot need such cosseting. His friends report, however, that he too has been going around stricken with disbelief that any of his troops could vote against Maastricht, when the Government's stand on the ques- tion was supported in Parliament before the summit, after the summit, and was endorsed by the electorate last month.
Something else has rattled the whips in the last week. Sir Marcus Fox's election as Chairman of the 1922 Committee of Tory backbenchers was not planned. Mr Cranley Onslow, Sir Marcus's immensely undistin- guished predecessor, was supposed to be re-elected for one last year. Sir Marcus won partly because a vote for him was an effec- tive way for backbenchers to show that they do not like the tone of the new Tory estab- lishment and the direction in which it is moving. Mr Onslow was totally subservient to the whips; that is why, when back- benchers were upset, he would say nothing. Sir Marcus is a ruthless self-publicist. When something is going wrong he will not just go around Westminster saying so; he will go on television and do it. Such thoughts fill the whips with horror.
Mr Ryder's gamble is that by getting his underlings to display an excess of zeal (he smiles permanently, and would not stoop to such unpleasantness himself, not least because it would require him to express an opinion on something), the dissenters will, like dogs, come into line. He would, though, do well not to overestimate the affection in which the party line is held below decks. The 1922 Executive is packed with old-style right-wingers. Sir Marcus will need no egging on from them to air back- bench dismay. You could not find two peo- ple less alike than he and the inscrutable Mr Ryder. Conflict looks inevitable. With Mr Onslow out, Mr Ryder has lost an important part of his control over the back- benches, and he knows it. If his pre-emp- tive fear policy does not work, we could be in for some fun.
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