A New Year's Eve Political Broadcast
Edited by NIGEL LAWSON
Tills is probably the last time I shall be speak- ing to you on television in 1966: a year which I warned at the outset would be one of make or break for us all. And, you know, looking back this evening, I can say, without fear or favour, that it has proved, as I predicted, a year of make and break. No government has made more pledges. And no government has broken more.
Of course, this has made us unpopular. But, quite frankly, I've never been afraid to face un- popularity. Thank God, for the first time we've got a British government with the guts to go back on its pledges, regardless of electoral popu- larity.
You know, the Tories and their friends in the press thought that, by springing an election on us last March, they could turn this into a squalid party political issue. Well, the Tories were wrong and the press were wrong. What was the election about? It was about the fact that Britain has a government, and a government that governs. Politics—as Nye Bevan used to say—are about power. And in two years we have shown against the background of the worst economic crisis this country has ever faced, and in Rhodesia and Vietnam, two of the worst and most complicated world problems we have ever had to deal with—we have shown in two years what a Socialist government means in the use of power compared with thirteen years of drift under the Tories. Some day we will be able to tell the whole story, but not now.
But—and I make no bones about it—we have had our disappointments. Despite all the efforts we made, and, heaven knows, no government has done more than we have—to end the fight- ing in Vietnam and to get a disarmament agree- ment, we haven't yet had the response needed to make these a reality. I have myself been to the Soviet Union twice this year to discuss these prob- lems very urgently with the Soviet leaders, whom, of course, I know well; and I shall go on visiting the Soviet Union so long as mankind is denied peace and so long as it continues to divert atten- tion from blunders at home.
And, you know, our problems at home—tough problems— incredibly tough—haven't been made any easier by the unpatriotic activities of a tightly knit group of politically motivated men, among them known card-carrying members of the Con- servative party, who plunged the nation into a seamen's strike and succeeded where Hitler had failed in paralysing Her Majesty the Queen's entire merchant fleet. But the Government met this problem with determination and with resolve. Less than twenty-four hours after the seven-week strike started I went on television. And I shall not hesitate to do the same again in any future national emergency.
And it is this purposeful approach—so different from the sickeningly familiar drift and abdication of the never-had-it-so-good years—which has characterised, above all, our response to the two great world problems that have dominated 1966: Rhodesia and the British economy.
As I said in the House of Commons on Decem- ber 8, Rhodesia is the greatest moral issue which Britain has had to face in the post-war world; and, heaven knows, no British government could have done more than we have done to duck it. I will not weary you with the successive twists and turns of my talks with Mr Smith—my twists and his turns. I will only say this. Right at the outset I made it clear to Mr Smith that, provided Rhodesia remained loyal to the Crown, we would have no objection to his keeping the 1961 constitution and the police state that flowed therefrom. But he persisted in his illegal declara- tion of independence, and we were committed to a policy of economic sanctions. I warned at the time that sanctions would bite in weeks, rather than months; and sure enough Zambia was soon to feel the pinch. And so, this month, I met Mr Smith again on board HMS Tiger—and I would like to take this opportunity to pay a tribute to the captain and officers of this fine ship, not to men- tion Sir Humphrey Gibbs, Her Majesty the Queen, and the exporters I saw sweating it out with their products—magnificent products—at the Moscow Trade Fair.
I told Mr Smith, frankly and bluntly, that provided he was prepared to give his solemn undertaking—for we had to have guarantees—to abide by the six principles—any six principles— we in turn would grant him his legal indepen- dence. But I insisted at the same time that the 1961 constitution must be amended, principally by the creation of 17 new seats in the Rhodesian parliament to be elected by white voters only. This he accepted (you know, it's not for nothing that the Russians have learned to respect my negotiating power ever since I was a young presi- dent of the Board of Trade). There remained only the question of the return to legality. I insisted that the Royal Commission that was to be set up to report that the Rhodesian people as a whole were in favour of a sell-out must do so after the return to legality. Mr Smith, however, stubbornly maintained that it should do so before.
You know, in the long history of lost opportunities, I find it hard to discover one more tragic than that which Mr Smith rejected on that day. We'd gone there intending to sell out, and he refused to let us. Of course, some Tories, in what has been the most despicable manoeuvre in the history of the Conservative party—yes, worse even than the infamy and collusion of Suez—have tried to say we were wrong to allow the whole agreement to break down over something as small as the timing of the Royal Commission. But as I
told the House of Commons on December 6, it would be unthinkable to allow the Commission to operate so long as Mr Smith continued to possess emergency powers including control over radio and television. I must be frank with you. Anyone who denies me the freedom to appear on tele- vision, without right of reply, is a self-condemned racialist; and that is why I have said—I make no apology for repeating it—that Rhodesia is the greatest moral issue which Britain has had to face in the post-war world. And I am confident that our South African friends, against whom we have no quarrel and seek no sanctions, will support us in this.
And, you know, all the time we have been taking these important initiatives overseas we have had to do so against the background of the Tories' economic crisis. But our policy has been clear and purposive. As I said at the Lord Mayor's Banquet soon after Her Majesty had graciously asked me to become her Prime Minister, we reject the defeatist doctrine that the only way to a stronger pound is to keep the economy weak. As I said in the House of Commons, we have learned the hard way that deflation and contrac- tion, so far from making us efficient and com- petitive, have the opposite effect. Costs rise, essential investment is discouraged. . . . Nor are we, my Lord Mayor, prepared to accept the unemployment and the loss of production which would be entailed.
I can say now, without fear of contradiction, that everything I said then has come to pass. We have—and I make no bones about it—had to abandon the national plan as a result. But I'm sick and tired of the defeatist fringe, the faint-hearts, the wailings and moanings of the short-term calculators who are incapable of looking beyond their own noses, the moaning-minnies and the wet editorials of those who will seek any opportunity to sell Britain short, whether at home or abroad. Quite frankly, what happened this year was that, just when we were all set for a very fine economic recovery, we were blown off course by a whole series of things that no one could have forecast. The seamen's dispute was one: who could have foreseen that a shipping strike would have affected British trade? Or that economic sanctions would have reduced our trade with Rhodesia, still less put up copper prices? And who could have fore- told that the Vietnam war—and, heaven knows, no government has done more than we have done to end the fighting in Vietnam—would put a strain on the American balance of payments and so affect the whole complex of world monetary movements? No, you could never have foreseen these things—unless, of course, you are the sort of moaning minnie who will seek any opportunity to sell Britain short.
So let us resolve, as we look forward to 1967, to show the world that Britain means business. I've said it before and I'll say it again tonight : all our history proclaims that when Britain is up against it we're at our best. Nobody owes us a living. Success is only going to come by a full day's work for a full day's pay, instead of private profit and private gain. There is no place in the New Britain for scrimshankers who dodge the column—or column-dodgers who shank the scrim. You know, there's one thing that 1966 has done. It's focused the eyes of the world on us. All right, this is our chance to show them what we're made of. We'll show them that a time of crisis is a time for great- ness. So let us resolve in 1967 to make Britain strong and sterling strong, so that the time will come when the pound once more will look the peso in the face. This is your country, and our country. We are under attack. You must pay for it.
Good night.
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