F
Compton Mackenzie
THE House of Commons was not unlike a disturbed ant-hill after Sir Winston Churchill's casual reminis- cence about a telegram that may or may not have been sent nine years ago. Instead of running about and tickling one another with their feelers in a state of excited formication members would have been better advised to keep still and meditate upon a disturbing observation in the course of that Woodford speech which had much more relevance for the present and future than the re-arming of defeated Germans once upon a time to throw themselves down in faint of the Russian steamroller or juggernaut if it got out of control. I wish the Spectator could use its red ink to print the words uttered by Sir Winston Churchill, hard by those ancient oaks of Epping which make most contemporary politicians look like plywood: 'One of the dangers of democracy is that you become a machine-made possession of the party caucus.' Where would Sir Winston be today if he had allowed himself to be minced by the machine of any party ? I go so far as to wish that he had never accepted the chairmanship of the Conservative Party, however gratifying it must have been to compel the recognition of those who had striven so hard and 80 long to keep him in the wilderness. When we look back on those years in the wilderness and realise that a coagulation of the second-rate by mere density was able to exclude a man like Winston Churchill from playing any part in the affairs of the nation after that pinchbecjc National Government of 1931 came into power, we can shudder for a future in which that party machine, growing stronger every year, will be able to crush any possibility of producing a great statesman. When Sir Winston Churchill was out of office in 1936, the party machine was able to secure the appointment of the late Lord Caldecote as Minister for the Co-ordination of Defence, presumably on account of his discouraging experiences in prosecution as Attorney-General; the likelihood of a smaller man than Sir Winston Churchill being able to escape from its deadening - Influence is unimaginable.
The Labour machine is just as relentless a mangle as the Tog machine. Mr. Aneurin Bevan finds the atmosphere of British politics not less oppressive than Sir Robert Boothby does. Indeed, the Labour bigwigs are probably less tolerant of direct criticism than the Tories. Their inability to take it from a hard-hitting paper like Tribune would be contemptible If it were not so pathetic. And what are we to think of the removal of the Whip from the seven Labour MPs who were not prepared to give up to party what they believe was meant for mankind ? Democracy is turning into caucocracy—an ugly word for an ugly thing. There is now not a single independent member left in the . House of Commons. • Both party machines, scenting the probability of small majorities for either side for some years to come, were determined to eliminate such a threat to the Whips. When Vernon Bartlett was elected as Independent Member for Bridgwater the power of radio at last penetrated the thick imagination of the caucus and since then television has become an added threat. It was decided hv both caucuses that a severe check must be kept on politicians who were in danger of becoming an attraction to the public. The two of them have made an alliance to interfere with the right of the BBC to choose its own speakers. An MP like Sir Robert Boothby, who after being a conspicuous success in Any Questions and A Matter of Opinion went on to be an out- standing success in television debates, is now rationed by his caucus to so many appearances a year. I-fe is forbidJen under pain of losing the party Whip to speak m012 oFten. It is fantastic that the only good demagogue-1 use the ward in its strictest sense—that the Conservatives have except the Prime Minister himself should be muzzled by a lot of political kennel hands. It must be balm to the Labour caucus that tolr. Aneurin Bevan does not find either broadcasting or television a sympa- thetic medium. He is in fact a much better broadcaster than he thinks himself, and I wish he would give the Labour caucus heartburn occasionally. There are hopeful signs on both sides of the House of back- bencher restlessness, but an effective revolt still seems far away and I doubt if it will come without encouragement from the electorate.
What I do not understand is the ovine submissiveness of the British voter at an election. If you listen to an audience at any discussion broadcast or televised you will note that its applause is always loudest for a vigorous expression of individual opinion. The cautious politician who refuses to commit himself is always coldly received. Yet if that cautious politician presented himself as a candidate for a constituency against that outspoken critic the cautious politician would always head the poll. There is hardly a constituency in Great Britain today which is represented by a member to whom it would stick whatever the party machine did to prevent his return.
The power of that party machine is strongly in evidence in Scottish elections. There is no doubt whatever that a plebiscite for or against the restoration of a Scottish Parlia- ment would show a large majority in favour. Yet in contest after contest, with one exception, the Home Rule candidate has been defeated. What is true of Scotland is equally true of Wales. Both the two great political parties have succeeded in hypnotising the electorate into a belief that the party is more important than the country. Both of them pay lip-service to the notion that party and country are a distinction without a difference, but it takes a major war to give it even the semblance of reality% The outlook is grim. On the one hand we have an unwieldy House of Commons with less and less legislative ability which- ever party be in power. On the other hand we have an equally unwieldy and fabulously expensive Civil Service 'whose top- ranking permanent officials are rendered immune from criticism by not being allowed to speak for themselves. They are defended by Ministers who, themselves acutely aware of what hay the permanent officials could make of their political reputations, naturally take the part of their permanent officials. One of the dangers of democracy is that you become a machine-made possession of the party caucus.'
If Sir Winston Churchill were in his twenties today would he take up politics as a career, or if he did take it up could he look forward to such a career as he enjoyed from the day ha was elected for Oldham ? I believe that a young Winston Churchill today would be sunk without trace in less than ten years. I am disinclined to pessimistic belief, but the menace of a colourless totalitarianism which the present trend of Parlia- ment and the Civil Service threatens does seem to me a horribly real menace. George Orwell's book 1984 is completely ineffective as a warning to this country because readers here suppose that they are being frightened into a die-in-the-ditch resistance to Muscovite Communism. The benignant egali- tarianism of the Welfare State which is slowly stifling us in cotton-wool is not regarded as a form of totalitarianism. How- ever, do let us have more horror plays on television. At least they have the effect of stirring up the back-benchers of the House to bark without cowering under the crack of the Whip.
Perhaps the novelty will encourage them to revolt against party disc;p:ine in more serious matters. And if that happens perhaps young men with vitality, eloquence and brains will again consider politics as attractive a career as big business.
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