Another Spectator's Notebook
During the hurly-burly of the present phase of debate about the national economy, enlivened as it has been by distinctive and characteristic contributions from Reggie Maudling and Enoch Powell, one important area of analysis has been judged, it seems, too potentially explosive for open and straightforward discussion. It concerns unemployment, and the level of unemployment which modern Britain may have to tolerate because of the structure and conditions of our industrial society. All political parties are, of course, committed to full unemployment; and their spokesmen refuse even to contemplate the possibility that it may not be achievable, even in the long term. Even Powell, not usually noticeable for any unwillingness to pick up and even handle controversial issues, has tended to skirt round this one. When at Leamington the other day he spelt out with incomparable clarity the nature and some of the consequences of adopting the doctrines of both of the two main schools of thought on how to fight the battle against inflation — the one favouring an incomes policy, the other a squeeze on the money supply — he stated that Governments are unwilling to refuse to create the extra money needed to finance big pay increases "because otherwise unemployment would result." But he does not elsewhere in the speech make it wholly clear whether he himself believes that that would be the case; or, if it were, what level of unemployment he, a strict believer in containing anti reducing the growth in the supply of money, would expect, or find tolerable. Once, on television, he began to argue with Roy Jenkins that the amount by which unemployment would increase, if the event of a Government adopting his policies would not be significant, but the programme ended before he had time to develop this judgement. On another occasion, in the course of an extremely philosophical and tentative speech on economic matters in the House of Commons, he appeared prepared to accept even a substantial increase in present unemployment levels, though he argued that this would be temporary in nature, until the new money supply policy had had time to affect the structure of the economy itself. But the subject is still far from being out in the open.
Alec adroit
Last July, commenting on the expulsion Of the Russians from Egypt, The Spectator argued that this would lead to the regionalisation of the Arab-Israeli conflict, the reduction of super-power interest and involvement in the situation and, possibly, to peace. At the same time we commented on the good sense and creativity of Sir Alec Douglas-Home's own diplomacy in the Middle East and its prospects for success. On Tuesday night the Foreign Secretary, who has deeply involved himself personally in the whole question, analysed the developments of recent months and their likely consequences at a banquet for the new Egyptian Foreign Minister Dr Zayyat — a jovial and intelligent man, incidentally, and pro-Western. Sir Alec said "that the complete departure of Soviet military personnel from Egypt has to some extent ' depolarised ' t'he situation. As a result there may be . . . an opportunity to look afresh at the possibilities of settlement." This puts the ball squarely back in Israel's court for, since she is militarily superior to any combination of Arab countries she need not fear the consequences of withdrawal to the positions she occupied before 1967, now that twenty odd thousand Russians are not there to take advantage of her sacrifice. We will now, indeed, be able to see whether Israel really wants peace; and is content to be merely the predominant power in the area, wit'hout her entrenching herself against all other powers. Sir Alec, through his steady and unremitting advocacy of better Anglo-Egyptian relations, and his constant adroitness and tenacity in guiding the Middle East towards peace, has placed this country in a position where we may be able to make a real contribution in an area of traditional interest.
Think Tank loss
It is some time since I wrote in this Note book about the transference of Brian Reading, once Edward Heath's economic adviser, to the Think-Tank run by Lord Rothschild. Anyway, Reading has made another move, this time to the Economist, where he is to be economics editor. His reasons for abandoning government service appear to have been strictly personal; but the loss to the Rothschild outfit must be considered substantial, since Reading has always been the truly creative and original economic mind behind Tory policy; and the Think-Tank has lost enough ground in the prestige sense recently to feel — as I understand Lord Rothschild does — especially acutely the departure of a man both so intelligent and so combative.
Reading's pulp
The details of Reading's actual leaving of the Cabinet Office were, I understand, symbolic of the kind of bureaucratic difficulty which every paid-up member of the Quiet Revolution club has experienced on entry into Whitehall. He decided to take a chunk of paid leave before he moved on. He was told that, while he might take the leave due to him, he would have to come into the office for one day before the new job, both to re-sign the Official Secrets Act, and to make his departure theoretically abrupt. So, when Reading left for his hols, he left his office unreconstructed. In one corner was a cupboard — unlocked, because nothing in it was confidential — containing the delicacies of a decade's study of economics; the Bank of England Quarterly Bulletin, National Institute reports, Department of Employment statistics, and other little items. There was an instruction that the room should be left alone until Reading returned — being lazy he thought that he would postpone shifting things for a bit. But when he came back he found that three-quarters of his private archive had been pulped: Mr Reading had left; Mr Reading's archives could be of no consequence. Reading was inconsolable — until he heard that the higher-ups in the Cabinet Office appreciated his dilemma, and had promised to restore all that was lost, at what cost to their private collections, and those of various government departments, nobody knows.
Charles Curran
The death of the gravel-voiced and pugnacious Charles Curran, Tory MP for Uxbridge was a particular loss to the House of Commons and politics generally because there are so few men in public life of an equivalent individuality, humour and ebullience. I first met Curran when he was helping to revive the old Whitefriars dining club and I was a member of the committee — though, alas, not a very active or regular one. His kindliness and good fellowship, combined with an inexhaustible courtesy and attention to detail, were remarkable in so busy a man. Later, when he returned to the House of Commons, declining health affected both his work rate and his capacity, for outside activities, but all his old qualities were still there, though at a lower level of intensity.
He will be much missed. PC
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