Why a Re-shuffle?

POLITICAL COMMENTARY

By ALAN WATKINS

It is difficult to see how Mr Harold Wilson can be very much more ruthless on this occasion. True, a few of the middle- and lower-order ministers can usefully be dispensed with. At the same time it should be remembered that, because of the Labour Party's increased representation after the election, an individual MP's chances of office are lower than they were in 1964-66. But the most important political fact is that this is a highly inconvenient time for any substantial re- shaping of the Government.

Of course, Mr Fred Mulley will have to be accommodated when the Ministry of Aviation is finally subsumed in the Ministry of Technology. One of the most diverting aspects of recent specu- lation, incidentally, is the way in which Mr Mulley is now described as 'well thought of or even 'suc- cessful.' While I do not for a moment subscribe to the 'Freds' nonsense—a typical example of English name-snobbery—Mr Mulley is not as well thought of or successful as all that. And if Mr Ray Gunter, who suffered a serious though short illness in the summer, really is to leave the Ministry of Labour for some less taxing post, a suitable replacement might be Mr Reg Prentice rather than Mr Mulley.

But in the upper reaches of the Cabinet, Mr Wilson's scope is limited. Though he might in the end choose to make changes, it is arguable that he would be wrong to do so. Mr Michael Stewart and Mr George Brown, in their different ways, have only just started. Mr Roy Jenkins can hardly be moved from the Home Office when it must appear (to the more impressionable newspaper-readers, anyway) that half the jail population is roaming the countryside. Lord Gardiner, it is true, has been something of a disappointment, both as a law reformer and as a party politician : but, lawyers being what they are, it is by no means clear that any figure currently visible on the hori- zon would necessarily be an improvement.

We are left with the suggested swap between Mr James Callaghan at the Exchequer and Mr Denis Healey at the Ministry of Defence. The difficulty here is that both are in the middle of what are, or ought to be, fairly solid pieces of work. Mr Callaghan is trying to contain govern-

ment expenditure and to get us into balance by the end of 1967 (or is it 1968?—the date seems to advance all the time). Mr Healey is trying to cut defence costs overseas and to integrate the three services. In neither of these endeavours, to be sure, is he having much success, but let that pass: Mr Healey remains one of the most neglected politicians, journalistically speaking, in the present Government. Partly this is because he tends to

hold himself aloof from ordinary mortals, and to spend such time as he can spare in talking either to Americans or to field-marshals or occasionally to both; partly because his manner in the House of Commons is less impressive than his manner in the Cabinet. There is a sense in which Mr Healey is not a politician at all, but an intellec- tual administrator.

Still, the idea of an exchange with Mr Callaghan has its attractions. Mr Callaghan, however, is not only in the middle of a substantial undertaking; more, freed from the overwhelming presence of Mr Brown, he is actively enjoying himself; he does not want to move, at any rate not at the moment. In the autumn, perhaps, it may be differ- ent. 'The end of the road in sight . . . in balance by the end of the year . . . confidence . . . sterling . . . lay down my burdens.' This, we may be sure, is the kind of speech—we all know how it goes—which the Chancellor would like to make, whether in public or to Mr Wilson. And the time to make it is not yet.

But what of those unfortunates who are being continually paraded before our eyes as candidates for the chopper—Mr Douglas Jay, Lord Long- ford, Mr Arthur Bottomley, Mr Fred Lee? The case of Mr Jay is a most curious one. Somehow the story has got around that he is not particularly good at his job. Ministers who have observed Mr Jay at work are puzzled by this. Douglas, they say, may be an awkward customer; he may be stub- born, even something of an eccentric; but he remains a highly intelligent and competent minister. Part of the trouble is that the Board of Trade is unglamorous, with overtones of the nineteenth century (perhaps the same might be said of Mr Jay). It would require our old enter- tainer Mr Ernest Marples to make the department seem exciting.

Again, Mr Bottomley, like Mr Jay, has been unfortunate. Whereas Mr Jay has an unglamor- ous ministry, Mr Bottomley has an unglamorous accent. He comes from Walthamstow. In Labour politics, while a Yorkshire accent is acceptable, and a Welsh accent a positive advantage, a Lon- don accent seems a liability. It is all very odd— another example of the snobbery to which I referred earlier.

Then there is Lord Longford, the chief com- plaint against whom seems to be that he talks too much, and tells other people how to run their departments. But the poor fellow has to do some- thing with his time: leading the House of Lords is hardly a full-time occupation for someone of Lord Longford's energy and width of interests.

And can I, finally, find a charitable word to say for Mr Fred Lee? Yes, I can. In the 1964 Parlia- ment he gave as good as he got in the debates on steel with Mr Iain Macleod. And there is no reason to believe that he ran the Ministry of Power less than efficiently.

All this is not to say that this Cabinet cannot be improved upon. Nor is it to say that what a

minister appears to be, rather than what he is, is unimportant. Indeed in politics, as in life, there is no disjunction : appearance is part of the reality. Nevertheless, we should be on our guard against accepting approved lists of who is a 'failure' and who a 'success.' Mr Malcolm Muggeridge some- where tells the story of how, as an experiment, he wrote in a gossip paragraph be was composing that a certain public figure was fond of music. As far as Mr Muggeridge was aware, the figure con- cerned could not distinguish Beethoven's Fifth Symphony from God Save the Queen. However, the story, once planted, took root. More, as news- paper story succeeded newspaper story, and cut- ting was piled upon cutting, it grew. In the end it was implied that no concert was complete with- out this particular public figure's presence.

It is rather the same with ministers. Some un- happy character is described as unsuccessful; in which case he is marked for life; or else he is ludicrously overpraised, and then written off as a disappointment. (Oddly enough, the reverse pro- cess—where a minister is initially underestimated and subsequently acclaimed as a great success—is much more rare.) One example of initial over- praise is Mr Stewart, who was hailed as a Pal- merstonian Foreign Secretary on the strength of one speech in the debating chamber of the Oxford Union. And another example is Mr Edward Heath.

As with ministers, so also with back-benchers. There is an approved newspaper list, which I will not give yet again, of candidates for promotion. Let me emphasise that I have nothing against the young MPs whose names regularly appear on this list. No doubt all of them would make excellent junior or even senior ministers. But their qualifi- cations are not noticeably better than those of, say, Mr Harold Lever, Mr John Mackintosh, Mr David Marquand, Dr David Owen and Mr Christopher Price, whose names rarely if ever appear on the approved list, and whom I hereby nominate as an alternative batch.

This, then, is one fallacy attendant on re- shuffles: that there are some ministers uniquely deserving of relegation, and other ministers and back-benchers uniquely deserving of promotion. Another, connected fallacy is that re-shuffles sub- stantially change things. Yet Mr Brown is carry- ing on broadly the same foreign policy as Mr Stewart, and Mr Stewart broadly the same economic policy as Mr Brown, There has, it is true, been a change at the Commons since Mr Richard Crossman and Mr John Silkin took over the posts respectively of Leader of the House and Chief Whip: but these are posts which are peculiarly sensitive to personality. In general, re- shuffles do not affect the direction in which a Government is moving. In a way they are a sub- stitute for policy. What, Prime Ministers ask, shall we do next? And the answer comes: let's have a re-shuffle. Re-shuffles may of course affect the reputation of a Prime Minister, as Mr Harold Macmillan's reputation was affected in 1962. Which is why Mr Wilson is exceptionally cautious about them, and why, one imagines, the Govern- ment will not look very different in a few weeks' time.