Political commentary

Bye, bye, bipartisan

Ferdinand Mount

A bipartisan area is an agreeable spot, providing politicians with a kind of leisure centre where the normal cut-and-thrust of politics is suspended and where backscratching, -ego massage and other expressions of mutual esteem may be exchanged without loss of face: 'The right hon. gentleman's devotion to principle is wellknown in these matters . . . I thank the minister for his kind remarks and would like to take this opportunity of paying tribute to his patient quest for an honourable solution . . . It is a matter for congratulation that the House should be united in expressing its determination . . . ' This soothing atmosphere relieves the politician of the necessity of thinking for himself. Now and then he may express a soupcon of doubt, a mild caveat as to whether this or that action might not, if pressed too far, lead to complications. But this is no more to be taken seriously than the criticism of the motoring correspondent who, after reporting that the Ocelot-Super-Ten combines the luxury of a Rolls Royce with the performance of a Ferrari at the price of a Mini, ventures his opinion that the rear view mirror is sited perhaps a fraction of an inch too far to the left.

Bipartisan is a surprisingly modern word, first recorded here in 1920, though earlier in the United States. And it is mostly used in a highly specific context to refer, not just to ,any old agreement between two parties, but to an issue which is considered to' be so crucial and so delicate that it is in the national interest for the two main parties to agree on a common policy such as immigration, the sterling parity and Northern Ireland. This agreement has and is intended to have a silencing effect upon those who belong to the two subscribing parties. Usually they just cease to examine what it is that they have put their name to. Differences are literally sunk below the level of conscious thought and debate. Without sustained criticism to monitor its movements, the bipartisan area may therefore slide, expand or change shape in quite unforeseen ways so that the two parties end• up supporting a quite different line from the one on which they originally agreed.

The purpose of this practice is to strengthen the government's hand by denying its enemies the prospect of concession or surrender if the government changes.

What nobody ever points out is that bipartisanship is itself unstable. Because there is no real debate and no argument rooted in principle, the agreed orthodoxy can be blown all over the place by a sudden gust. Look how fixed parities toppled in the first gale, leaving western governments floating at the mercy of the elements in a world which was terrifyingly unfamiliar because they had refused ever to think about it. Look how the Provisional IRA was able for a considerable period to blow Westminster this way and that by a series of orchestrated puffs.

For an opposition party the most damnably difficult thing is how to wriggle out of a bipartisan straitjacket and establish its independence without appearing at the same time to discard principles which it wishes to go on upholding. Surprisingly, it is Mr Airey Neave, not noted for the brilliance of his footwork, who has managed a limited disengagement without fuss, merely by stating the obvious: that power-sharing in Northern Ireland is 'no longer practical politics'.

Mrs Thatcher, to put it kindly, has shown herself less deft. It will not do to say that she was 'bounced' into talking about immigration by premature leaks about party plans to reduce the inflow. She knew what she was up to. And she knew what she was in for, as her edgy, abrasive response to criticism indicates. But if you are going to play the numbers game, you must understand the rules and in the confusion that fogges Westminster at the end of last week the only clear thing was that Mrs Thatcher herself was not clear, either about which categories of dependants might be excluded or about the effect that such exclusion might have upon total inflow. She was, unusually for her, badly briefed. Merely to show the black card may create the impression that the Tories would 'do something' about immigration which would at least be more than Labour would do. But this advantage is counteracted not, I think, so much by the potential loss of immigrant votes — only a minority are likely to be Tories anyway — but in a generalised loss of personal authority. That impression of competence which is so vital to an opposition leader who has not yet led a government or headed a major department of state can only be weakened by these statistical bluffs.

Contrary to the humbug of hack moralists, the fears that Mrs Thatcher stirred up were not that she was meditating repatriation on a Powellite scale but that she was talking off the top of her head.

It is more essential for oppositions to learn how not to waste their opportunities, for they are increasingly outgunned by government with its regiments of PR men and statisticians, its army of discretionary powers and its dominance over communications and parliamentary procedures. Mrs Thatcher was quite rightly advised to hold her fire until the report of the

Commons committee on immigration comes out, for select committees not only carry the extra weight of an all-party outfit. they have the time and the research backing to produce ammunition as required.

Tories, on the whole, are not nature's opposers. If they cannot put their feet up on the dispatch box, they prefer going off and making money to the vulgar trades of digging, scavenging and harrying. Consequently, shadow spokesmen tend to wait for the brief to be put into their hand with a ribbon tied round it. This is bad for public and Parliament as well as for their own electoral chances. It is incredible, for example, that Conservative MPs (with the shining exception of Mr Michael Latham) should have waited for six months or more before launching an all-out attack on the government's blacklist of firms that have broken the pay limits. The arm-twisting has now been carried a stage further by Mr Hattersley's announcement during the debate that all firms would in future have to sign a pledge to keep to the government's pay guidelines before being given new government contracts or aid — although the government would still have the discretion to overlook breaches such as Ford's if it so wished, in other words, to act in a totally arbitrary manner. Yet this bare-faced extension of state power — which could amount to compulsory wage control for about half of British Industry—was greeted with limp perplexity by the Tories until Mr Nigel Lawson came to wind up with suitably ferocious indignation.

This is blackmail, foul and simple, and the government's legal, moral and political position is very shaky as is shown by Mr Sam Silkin's pseudo-retreat in the face of legal action and the Treasury's apology to the John Lewis Partnership. Yet it was not until the Sun published a selection of names on

the list that the opposition felt it had enough ammunition to go into action. A senior Tory spokesman admitted quite frankly that they did not have the names themselves and had no idea about how to get hold of them. Yet the point of a blacklist is that it must be circulated. Why have Conservative supporters in the NHS and the universities not passed on the outrageous lists that the government was sending them? Why have Tory businessmen not complained in droves about their exclusion from government contracts?

Political parties — not only the Tories — seem to be losing 'touch with their allies.

While government continues to accumulate power, private energies drain away to the pressure groups. And the political parties, although still able to exert devastating pressure on most MPs, become ill-informed and isolated from society and therefore derided — which strengthens the preference of the pressure groups for communicating directly with government, press or public and so depriving the parties of their collective expertise and political weight. The rise of select committees is a response to the growing weakness of party.