`IT'S BEEN RIGGED'

Dalyell attacks the government's 'hypocrisy' in refusing to postpone the Scottish referendum

THE Scottish people are being asked by the government to vote Yes Yes in the Scottish Referendum on 11 September. To date they have been unable to discover what they are being asked to say Yes Yes to.

To try to get a clearer light thrown on what had become a murky matter, I visited Tam Dalyell before Parliament rose for the summer. For 35 years this Scottish baronet (who declines to use his title) has been a thorn in the flesh of successive gov- ernments. His book Devolution: The End of Britain came out in 1977. He is still waiting for his pertinent questions to be answered. Meanwhile other questions crucial to Scot- land's future (will they end up paying more tax than the English if devolution goes ahead?) also remain unanswered. 'Trust us,' seems to be the most we will get out of the present government.

From torrential downpour my boots slap-slap across Central Lobby where I am met by Mr Dalyell: tall; pale narrow face; head held as if a rod was rammed up his spine. The Labour party's only Old Etoni- an is wearing a navy V-neck and crumpled non-stripy suit at odds with both spick- and-span New Labour and those garagistes on the Tory benches. Even his gait is awk- ward.

`I waddled all the days of my life,' he says in his grave voice as he leads the way through the Commons maze, and I observe he speaks truly. 'I was the despair of every sergeant-major. One leg was rather longer than the other — a design fault in my mother. I got on very well with her.' He finds an empty committee room and directs me to a table by the window. 'I always like to keep an eye on Father Thames — to check the water quality.'

He has a short mouth from which his words emerge in that clamp-jawed accent found among the English upper classes. I keep having to ask, 'What did you just say?' until I'm finally driven to mutter, `Your accent does not make life easy for an American' (a polite way of saying, 'For God's sake, man, unlock your jaw').

`It's the accent of Eton and King's Col- lege Cambridge,' he replies stiffly. His dis- tinguished Scottish parents were in the colonial service. Tam was sent back to Britain for his schooling. 'People have to take me as I am, accent and all. I hide nothing.'

That's the key to his celebrated obses- siveness. He has made a parliamentary career ferreting out truths that others want to hide. And when Mr Dalyell gets obsessed with conspiracy or injustice, he is like a terrier. His ability to ask 50 terse supplementary questions on the same sub- ject leads to groans when he rises in the Commons Chamber, discomfiture for the minister, and respect.

He was the last MP to be hauled before the Privileges Committee for gross con- tempt of the House. This wounded him because it was muddle, not calculation, that led to his leaking an embargoed docu- ment to the press. He would never himself betray a trust, however unabashedly he tears open others' secrets. He was cen- sured by the Speaker, who donned a black cap for the occasion, 'that malevolent Harold Walker. All right, he'd lost his wife,' he adds in an effort to be fair. This took place during a Labour government. `Harold Wilson voted against me because he felt he had to support the Speaker. Mr Shore voted against me because he always did what Harold wanted. Mr Callaghan said he didn't take part in blood rituals. Mr Benn locked himself in the toilet.'

Though he still can be hurt, Dalyell became impervious to public humiliation during his National Service in the 1950s. He'd intended becoming an officer in the Scots Greys, the family regiment raised by Bluidy Tam in the 1660s. Today's Tam had completed the first part of his training with high honours. `Partly because my name began with D and there were no As, Bs, or Cs, I was then made Platoon Sergeant. The officer in charge got it into his head that I assumed I was going to this rather elite cavalry regi- ment founded by one of my ancestors. Pos- sibly I added to that irritation but not by arrogance, by ungainliness and some incompetence. Then that bloody car on Salisbury Plain.' He lost an armoured car. `Anyone could lose a car on Salisbury Plain at night.'

This late and cherished only child was turned out of officer cadet school and served his two years as a plain trooper. `Being a trooper in a regiment where peo- ple know that one's ancestor founded the thing makes one truly hard-boiled.' It made him, he says, unembarrassable.

`And having been told by Denis Healey that I'm out of my tiny Chinese mind, and been called a chump by Callaghan, and received the sharp edge of your husband's tongue, I'm unlikely to be upset by any- thing said about me by Downing Street today.' After a moment he adds, 'The arro- gance of power. Four years of Downing Street is enough for anyone.'

Probably his perversity played a part in his voting for John Prescott to become Labour's leader after John Smith's sudden death, when everyone knew it was in the bag for Tony Blair. 'I had sound reasons as well,' he says. 'At the time I felt that only Prescott had demonstrated his leadership qualities. He was good in adversity. He had authority in the party. I didn't know how Tony would develop.'

Had he ever foreseen Blair's autocratic style?

`It's an interesting question.' A long pause. think that he understood very lit- tle of the traditions of the Labour party. To go straight to being prime minister from never having been in government at all is unusual. I thought he might adapt a presi- dential style.'

`Why did you think that?'

`Smell.'

He goes into long, wild, good-natured laughter.

`I like Tony. He is a very clever lawyer. I don't blame him personally for the situa- tion he inherited. In the Eighties, Scots wanted devolution in large part because Margaret Thatcher was against it. Blair couldn't turn against it at the present stage. He doesn't want to quarrel with Brown and Prescott who were always for devolution. The truth is the leadership is not very keen about it. What on earth will they do after- wards? They are stuck with it because of all the things the party said before the elec- tion. The party would argue that if they hadn't said those things there would have been an SNP victory across Scotland. Peo- ple were determined this year to get rid of the Tories.'

`Are you afraid of Downing Street's big stick?'

`Not in the least. I can get on perfectly well with Peter Mandelson. He was a friend of mine. I talk to anybody. I went to lunch at the BBC recently and they said, "My God, you're the first Labour MP who has a good word to say about Mandelson." I thought he was a serious person with serious objectives.

`But I am outraged by Donald Dewar's methods of getting the referendum fin- ished before its basic inconsistencies have been addressed. I'm not prepared to talk about a parliamentary colleague's personal behaviour, but his behaviour to Parliament would not have been tolerated before this government. We were promised a debate and a bill to go through Parliament and then a referendum would be held, instead of which it's been rigged to make people say Yes, Yes without any discussion. I'm incandescent with anger.'

The government's huge majority means Downing Street can intimidate and alien- ate its own supporters by threatening any dissenter with deselection at the next elec- tion. Not a peep has been heard from any other anti-devolution Scottish MP.

`I don't want to be deselected,' Dalyell says. 'I don't think I will be deselected. But what is at stake is the biggest constitutional change since the 1921 Government of Ire- land Act.'

Labour's Scottish Secretary, Donald Dewar, says devolution will strengthen the Union. His new ally in this campaign is the SNP, who want devolution because they believe it will end in the break-up of the Union. One of these new teammates must be wrong Last Sunday everything changed with the violent death of Diana, Princess of Wales. On Monday Mr Blair and William Hague announced that out of respect for Diana and the nation's grief they were suspend- ing campaigning until after the funeral this Saturday.' Downing Street refused Mr Dalyell's request for the referendum to be postponed to give people a chance to recover from their emotional absorption in Diana's death before voting on a highly complex tax-raising issue about which they are still bewildered. On Tuesday, when he and Mr Dewar were both on World at One, Mr Dewar claimed that four days next week was quite enough for a sophisticated populace to change emotional gear, and that he had consulted widely and reached a balanced view that they should push ahead with the referendum on 11 Septem- ber. Only after persistent questioning did he admit his 'balanced view' had been reached by talking only with pro-devolu- tion MPs.

That same day, a leaflet from the Yes Yes headquarters, printed with taxpayers' money, came through the Dalyells' letter- box. It urged pro-devolution activists to continue their telephoning and leafleting throughout this week of supposed hiatus.

`I don't know what you call it,' Dalyell says. 'Hypocrisy, perhaps?'