THE WHAT OF

THE YEAR?

Tam Dalyell says that Tony Blair may be many

things but he is not a Parliamentarian; all his achievements are extra-parliamentary

EVEN now. I am not sure that I really approve of the generosity of Zurich Financial Services and The Spectator in giving an excellent and congenial lunch and then dishing out awards of the year to politicians. In 1984 I was chosen as 'Troublemaker of the Year-, and I concede that this was meant in a friendly way. However, I got on my high horse — an unfamiliar posture — and declined either to go to the luncheon or to accept the prize of a flagon of whisky, on the grounds that I did not see that my opposition to Mrs Thatcher's war in the Falklands was troublemaking. Full of virtue, and somewhat pompously, I recounted my highminded reaction to the 'Troublemaking' sobriquet to the quarterly meeting of West Lothian Constituency Labour party. I was listened to with mounting incredulity, and when I wound up by revealing with a flourish that I had declined a flagon of whisky, the chairman observed that he thought that he spoke for the meeting in suggesting that what I had really been was the Parliamentary Twit of the Year'.

Fifteen years later, as Backbencher of the Year, 1 was altogether more gracious and sensible. For I had come to see that the decision of The Spectator's assembled Lobby correspondents was shrewd and perceptive. But at this year's awards luncheon, as the magazine's editor passed my table, I barked, 'All justified, other than one.' Boris replied, quick as a flash, 'I know which one you mean; give me 1,000 words as to why.'

Tony Blair — for it was he that we were talking about, albeit no name passed our lips — may be all sorts of things, but one thing he most certainly is not — and I base this judgment on 40 years' membership of the House of Commons — is Parliamentarian of this, or indeed of any other, year. Macmillan, Wilson, Callaghan and Thatcher would have been worthy Parliamentarians of the Year; not Blair.

Certainly he can claim to have made endless statements, which is all very well when a minister is in the driving seat; what he has not done, as Wilson did, is make 50-minute speeches during which he is subjected to sustained questioning, or defend a coherent strategy.

Blair's achievements are extra-parliamen tary. In fact, his life is extra-parliamentary. If he has, as this magazine put it in the judges' citations, 'unchallenged dominance of the political landscape', it is on account of a majority of 166. Francis Pym was absolutely right when he observed that in our adversarial system majorities of more than 50 are unhealthy. It is easy for Zeus to quell the sea nymphs when the sea nymphs look at the arithmetic and realise that, given the size of Zeus's majority, they have no chance of success in their objective. More sea nymphs would have spoken and voted according to their beliefs had the majority been less than 30. However, most sea nymphs do not want to offend an unforgiving Zeus — and their chances of becoming parliamentary secretarial nymphs — all to no purpose.

Life is infinitely easier for this Zeus than for previous Labour Zeuses, who had majorities of the order of plus five, or even, between 1977 and 1979, minus one.

Tony Blair might, according to the Weltanschauung of the selectorate, conceivably qualify for European Leader of the Year, or — possibly — for International Statesman of the Year. But Parliamentarian of the Year? Surely not. For the judges to observe that their choice is a man 'whose government is not universally thought to have been good for

parliamentary democracy' is the understatement of the year.

A parliamentarian is, in my view, a man or a woman who actually parleys, that is enters into conversation, with his or her parliamentary colleagues. My first prime minister, Harold Macmillan, could be seen, three evenings a week, padding along to the Commons smoking-room to have a chinwag with his chums. And the point was that most of the DSOs, MCs and Bars did not want anything from him. Macmillan certainly was influenced by Major Morrison, the publicly laconic chairman of the 1922 Committee, telling him, 'The boys want you to do this' or 'The chaps don't like that!' (I would not like to imply that the outspoken views of considerable Conservative ladies such as Dame Irene Ward, Dame Patricia Hornsby-Smith, and Betty Harvie Anderson went unheeded.) Tea-room opinion was a matter of considerable consequence for Harold Wilson. His appearance there was reasonably regular and his eyes-and-ears Parliamentary private secretaries, such as Will Harnling, Charlie Harris and Iaon Evans, were assiduous. Furthermore, Wilson himself would lunch regularly in the members' dining-room, now a sparsely populated and shell of a room in the middle of the day. Often he would sit — as did Jim Callaghan — with Douglas Houghton, Charlie Pannell and George Strauss, mulling over issues as an equal. Parliamentary meeting of minds was one factor in Wilson's reluctance to accede to Lyndon Johnson's request for a 'battalion of bagpipers' to keep the Americans company in Vietnam.

Of course, this prime minister would retort that he is good at seeing MPs — in groups of 20, or in twos, threes or individually — after 3.30 p.m. on Wednesdays. Of course, he will claim that he makes statements and answers questions. At this he is often — not quite always — very good indeed. But Tony Blair is not — and never has been from the moment he arrived in 1983 — immersed in the life of the House of Commons.

Am I complaining that he is not part of the supposedly cosy club? Yes, partly, because my experience tells me that in a parliamentary democracy the club members, all of whom have undergone the anvil of election by constituents (and some denizens of Westminster many times) have a perspective to offer that is usually more profound than that of focusgroups. It seems to me that Blair relies for advice on persons who have never actually been elected by anybody to anything.

Jim Callaghan's advisers were Merlin Rees, Roland Moyle, Gregor MacKenzie, Roger Stott and other club members. In circumstances of huge difficulty they gave good advice. Now that inevitable adversity is lapping at the door of No. 10, we await with interest the outcome of this test of the Prime Minister and his non-elected coterie.

Had they delved into the select committee corridor of the Palace of Westminster, The Spectator judges would have alighted on a more deserving Zurich/Spectator Parliamentarian of the Year 2001.