A Spectator's Notebook

A point that I do not think I have seen made about the result of the referendum on the Common Market is that when there is an overwhelming and decisive vote in a certain direction on such an occasion, it is almost certainly impossible for it to be overturned except through another referendum. But that may very well produce exactly the same result that has proved to be inimical to the economic or social strategy of the country.

In the recent referendum it is difficult not to believe that many of the electorate simply thought that the glossy world of the holidaytravel brochures would be denied them if they voted 'No'. The lack of effect of the campaign broadcasts was demonstrated by a story that Enoch Powell told me on the evening of the count. He had just come from the ITN studios to a reception at the House of Commons in a car supplied by Nigel Ryan, ITN's editor. The driver had turned to Powell and said: "It is an honour to be driving you Mr 'Powell — tell me, how did you stand on the Common Market?"

Krugerrands

It is inexplicable to me why the holding of Kruggerrands is not made illegal. No one, surely, would believe that these pieces of gold are coins in the numismatic sense. It may be argued that they are fine gold and a hedge against the depreciation of the currency, but then, so are bars of bullion — which may not be legally held by a private individual.

Interestingly, Kruggerands have now become a two-way business of another sort. There is the buyer who wishes to exchange his money for something small and easily hidden, which he may want to hide or give away to escape wealth or gift taxes or estate duties; and there is the other buyer who wants them to smuggle across the exchanges if he wants to emigrate. There is thus a two-way business lending itself to an illicit arbitrage, with only the necessity of smuggling the smallest quantity of actual coins to balance the books from time to time.

Needless to say, Kruggerrands are like gold. bullion, a highly dangerous investment except for illegal purposes. Most private (and, indeed,

state) buying of gold is on credit, inasmuch as the private individual borrows from his bank, which in turn is borrowing from depositors. As liquidity and credit tighten, so gold will fall. In the case of Krugerrands, there is an added risk — that they may be made subject to compulsory surrender, either for sale abroad or for reissue to the original holders after they have been die-stamped in some way to make them less useful for tax and exchange-control evasion.

Leavis at eighty

If there is one writer who has dominated critical thinking and critical discourse in English, it is F. R. Leavis. He will be eighty in three weeks' time, and to mark his birthday, The Spectator will be publishing a new, and what seems to us to be an important, essay on 'Thought and Language'. It is not necessary, of course, at this late date to introduce Dr Leavis; his critical polemics and his sustained attention to what he considers to be the good and the valuable in creative writing have gained him a place in our century which is the equivalent of Matthew Arnold's in the last.

It is extraordinary how the man and the writer has kept his momentum and his poise vtrhile other academic critics, and literary journalists, have risen upon a cult, stung or sung, and died. And, after all this time, Dr Leavis's indictment of the academic and metropolitan 'establishments' still stands, and has indeed been vindicated by events. The role of the critical 'outsider' — outside, that is, in the eyes of those who think themselves warmly and safely 'in' — is not an easy one to sustain; academic preferment is withheld, as indeed happened to Leavis in his old University, and the familiar channels of the literary world are closed. The 'insiders' will go around complaining, ridiculing and parodying — but the achievement, the real achievement and not something that survives in the gossip columns and the Sunday newspapers, will survive. This is the lesson that Dr Leavis has lived his life to prove, and it is one for which The Spectator salutes him.

Not cricket

The recent World Cup of cricket (so spectacularly won by the' West Indies) must have come close to equalling the football version in terms of popular interest, while in no way equalling football in the hooliganism of its supporters. All of which should have been highly gratifying to enthusiasts of our summer game who have long been concerned about its steady decline as a spectator sport. Not a bit of it, however. There are moans on all sides from these traditionalists that the one-day matches, which are bringing the crowds back to the cricket grounds, are ruining the true values of the game.

They have another complaint, which is that the counties' allowance of a couple of overseas players each is cruelly limiting the opportunities of the native-born English aspirants. There is much to be worriedly said, of course, for both complaints. The plain fact is, though, that without the colourful overseas players in the county sides, and without the liveliness of the one-day, limited-over matches, the plain economics of the situation would ensure the death of cricket anyway. Perhaps what survives will not be cricket as the past has known it, but change is unquestionably preferable to death.

Embarrassing

Incidentally, this mention of the World Cup cricket, which was lavishly televised by the BBC, reminds me of an illuminating announcement I overheard (via television) during the semi-final match between the West Indies ricl Australia at the Oval. The exuberant crowd tended, from time to time, to spill over the fences, and also, in the heat of the day, to remove their jackets and shirts and hang them over the fences. The Oval announcer appealed to them not to do either, because, he said, "British West Indian Airways are complaining that their advertisement cannot be seen on television," an embarrassment which the officially non-advertising BBC blandly ignored. It might have been worth, I thought, a sardonic chuckle from the commentator.

Mr Henry Keswick

It has been announced in the press during the past few days that Mr Henry Keswick has bought The Spectator, which has been entrusted to my care for the past eight years. When Mr Keswick approached us, The Spectator was at something of a watershed. The building that we have occupied in Gower Street for the last fifty years has fallen into a state that even our friends describe as squalid, and is in need of the attentions of the property developers who have undertaken to buy and restore it. We are having to move 1nto more efficient, if less evocative, offices; the latest of our crusades — that against membership of the Common Market — is over, at least for the moment, and there is a sense of anti-climax. With Mr Keswick The Spectator passes into the firm hands of a man whose name is connected with the running of one of this country's greatest international businesses. He has stated that he intends the paper to continue as an independent weekly review with Mr Alexander Chancellor, formerly of Reuters and ITN, as the new Editor from August 1.