A sense of the absurd
Colin Welch
T abour is a socialist party, 'or it is nothing'. It was Eric Heffer speaking in the great televised Labour leadership debate. Down memory lane I wandered off. How many times in Labour rhetoric have I heard that Labour is either this, that or the other, a crocodile maybe, or a grapefruit, or it is nothing? Unless memory errs, it was Harold Wilson who declared that Labour was either a 'crusade' or it was nothing. Was I alone in finding this remark doubly risible? Was I like that little man in the Charles Addams cartoon who, while all the rest of the theatre audience around him weep, wail and dab their eyes, grins slily, exposing a sinister tooth or two?
A crusade, or nothing: we can imagine Wilson leading nothing, and leading it very well, but hardly a crusade. He spared us that: it is to his credit. Even against Ian Smith he ventured only absurdities. As I read Runciman's great account of those ferocious irruptions of religion-crazed ruf- fians, I do not at once think of Harold Wilson in that context, any more than I would think of Harry Worth or Roy Hat- tersley, whose tastes and talents also seem to point elsewhere. Did Wilson really think it Labour's task to dispatch thousands of children to slavery, to massacre the local Jews or to emulate, mutatis mutandis, those rufous barbarians who invaded, sack- ed and forever ruined the greatest and most civilised city of Christendom and installed a whore on the high altar of Sancta Sophia? Probably not; and doubtless the crusaders did not all or always intend all the evil they achieved. Yet surely, in its marauding, destructive, wealth-destroying, envious and civilisation-hating aspects, does not modern socialism, though it has lost even the pretence of Christianity, have more than a little in common with that dreadful crusade? On hearing the words 'crusade' or 'socialism' used with unqualified approval, the wise will shiver. Danger is at hand.
The word 'nothing', though intended to repel, is by contrast more reassuring. So is the concept of a darts club, to which Mr Kinnock said the Labour Party would be reduced did it not guard itself against all militants, between whom and himself he discerns an abyss not visible to me. It was not 'nothing' which pillaged Constantino- ple, nor any darts club which threatens now to pillage us. 'Nothing' is beautiful.
In the debate's audience, presumably supplied by the Fabian Society, I noted many characteristic Fabian figures, women with wild grey hair nodding and mirthlessly smiling, grim bearded men in shorts, one presumably 'moderate' wiseacre who with triumphant smirks likened Mr Kinnock to the man who, asked whether he could play the violin, said he didn't know: he'd never tried. Why Mr Kinnock was so non plussed, as if a full dustbin had exploded under his nose, I can't think. His lack of experience was being mocked. But what fruitful ex- perience have the other three? What concer- tos and cadenzas, what great legislative or administrative achievements are credited to them, what feats of statecraft? One or two have sat at Yes-Minister desks, shifted papers, whiffled or raved at the dispatch box. Two are, like himself, notorious wind- bags. In what way are any of them (except perhaps for Mr Shore, who is out of the running) better qualified than he, by ex- perience or anything else, for the monstrously inflated responsibilities they all seek to arrogate to themselves? Why then was he so put out? I had thought him more brazen.
Since he prudently says less and less every time he speaks, why should anyone else say more? Will only the grin soon be left? The other protagonists were also on their best behaviour, appearing civil, benevolent and humorous, talking with one exception no more nonsense — indeed, rather less nonsense — than their position, ambitions and known beliefs would render ap- propriate. Indeed, Mr Shore's clear and contentious opinions, his unequivocal way of dealing with cant, forcibly indicate why he rose quickly in a past Labour Party and will not lead the present one.
The exception was Mr Hattersley. I am sorry to say so, because I would not like it thought that my criticism of him springs from any rancour about past exchanges. First, I cannot care for people who pose as good Europeans when it suits them and then promise as he did that, if given power, they would break all the Community's rules, grab from Europe everything they can get and generally take the Community for a colossal ride. Mr Hattersley calls this socialist Gaullism. I call it shabby.
Worse, however, was to come. Mr Hat- tersley habitually speaks with exaggerated p's and b's, like porridge bubbling loudly. At one stage the other night it was as though someone had suddenly turned the gas up under the saucepan, with risk of the contents boiling over or 'catching'. He 'My wife is a shrew, too.' faced the camera full on, eyes bulging, lips pursed, and, speaking with that undue em- phasis which sometimes accompanies in- sincerity, emitted the following sentiments. I cannot quote him literally, as the dog was at this time speaking with like emphasis in his own campaign for the local canine leadership; but I have the sense right. We are not the party of equality of opportuni- ty, Mr Hattersley declared; that is the Tories' line (it is not altogether mine, in- cidentally, though I am opposed to all artificial and arbitrary barriers). We, he continued, are the party of equality of outcome. Now, why did he say this and, moreover, go out of his way to say it?
Was it because he believes it? Or was it because, mindful of his electorate, he was in effect saying: Look, lads and lasses, you support Kinnock because you think he's as barmy as you are, but really I'm just as bar- my in my own way, or even barmier. Or was it just stuff he'd picked up from some leftist sage like Rawls or the other Runciman, cor- rectly or incorrectly understood, and which he thought would sound good and confer on him in Fabian eyes a certain intellectual kudos?
Whatever his motives, the sentiments re- main absolute nonsense and most discreditable to their emitter — particularly if he quotes Lord Attlee, as he did, to the effect that socialism and common sense go hand in hand together.
I am sure that all the contestants, even if they did not actually say so (which I think they did), would not deny that they are in favour of a more just society. Common sense views justice as virtue, however defin-. ed, and effort rewarded, and wrong-doing and idleness penalised or discouraged. It is not dotty to think that the rewards and penalties should not be disproportionately large; it surely is dotty to suggest that they should not exist at all. Yet this is what equality of outcome, if it means anything at all, does suggest. It postulates a race which all win, or rather in which there are no losers — or winners either. A society which arranges for all its citizens equality of out- come, be they creators of wealth or criminals, producers or parasites, geniuses or jolt heads, workers or idlers, very good or very wicked, is unlikely to last long, not least because it offends all normal notions of justice. Equality of outcome is in fact gross injustice codified and made real.
Come to think of it, equality of outcome is a peculiarly absurd slogan for anyone ac- tively engaged in a struggle for the Labour leadership or any other prize. To sink for a moment into Rawlsian jargon, a 'weak' definition of equality of outcome would decree that all four contestants became leaders. A 'strong' definition would make us all leaders of the Labour Party, members or not, sympathisers or not, fitted or unfit- ted, willing or no, all. Even Mr Hattersley might think this absurd: but how could he do so without snapping off at some ar- bitrary point the thread of his own absurd reasoning?
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