Campaign Commentary
Cynicism is not enough
Patrick Cosgrave
It has been a sad and shoddy campaign. No intelligent elector could have had his heart lifted at any moment of it, and the worst moments were not just bad, but tawdry. From Mr Wilson's little word games based on the prefix 'con' to Mr Heath's inability to distinguish between the meaning of the word 'contemptible' and the meaning of the word 'contemptuous' we have been through very nearly three weeks of Newspeak irrelevant to the condition of the nation. The sadness derives from the fact that, in each of their manifestos, the three main parties stated clearly and unequivocally, as well as truly, that the nation was facing a crisis of major proportions; but that in each of their acts, and in each of the acts • of their major spokesmen, they gave the lie to that recognition. The shoddiness derives from the sheer poverty of language and imagination which each major party leader who had his say in the forefront of his party's campaign — I choose this form of words to excuse those who, like Mr Whitelaw, were constrained by loyalty; those who, like Mr Lever and Sir Keith Joseph, were constrained by censorship, and those who, like Br Benn, were constrained by tactics — adopted, not just willingly, but with joy. One would have thought that the slick and expert media advisers of the Labour Party would have been given their marching orders in 1970; and those of the Tory Party seven months ago: but, no, they are all back in force, giggling away over opinion polls' information and 'orchestrating' (the quotation marks indicate that I would not care myself to use any form of the verb) the • campaigns of leaders who should know better than to employ them.
Thus a bitter preface to a column which hopes to examine some of the qualities which will be required of British political leadership in the next few years, but which should also serve its normal duty of providing my readers with a prediction of the result of this Thursday's general election. Last February's result was, by comparison, easy to guess at. There are so many new factors abroad now — growing realisation by the people that their leaders care less for those who vote them in than for office itself, the rising tide of nationalism, and the falling tide of Liberalism — but, to get it over quickly and without gagging, I fancy there will be a real but small overall majority for Labour by midday on Friday. One way or another, however, we shall still, by this time next week, have a government. How much longer after that we have a parliamentary-based government nobody can say. One of the characteristics of the kind of government we have, however, is that it will — on the evidence of the campaign — be government by coterie. As for the duration of the campaign Mr Wilson meets, first thing in the morning, with Professor Donoghue and Lady Falkender; Mr Heath with Mr Day and Mr Waldergrave. Each man meets with the people who are most anxious to sustain him — a second-rate historian, a jumped-up secretary, a bored man of advertising, and a bright undergraduate — and seeks rather the comfort they offer than the interest of the country. The advisers of course, have no political standing of their own, and must sustain the leader they have, rather than face a wilderness without him. And, when anybody is in doubt about what to advise, the modern version of taking the auspices supervenes, and private and public polls are consulted. Thus — it is a sorry thing to say, but,it must be said, as a matter of news and not comment — the Labour social contract arose entirely from a private opinion poll reading of public reaction to a casual phrase; and the Tory commitment to national government was born in a like fashion.
• Where, then, were the leaders? I suppose, waiting. It was not thus when Churchill — like any political leader, and perhaps more than some, dependent for comradely sustenance on his close personal friends; dependent on them for long social sessions, general chat, kindliness and love — on the advice of Ismay decided to turn down the claims of his personal friends to office in 1940, because they were not good enough. To Mr Wilson and Mr Heath alike have clung in office human appendages inadequate to high responsibility. 'The difference between Harold and Ted", observed one senior Tory to me before the recess, "is that Harold's advisers are third rate, and Ted's fifth rate".
Both leaders, it appears, await the emergence of a consensus not in the nation, but among their advisers. They are guided in what the nation thinks: they do not find out themselves — in their own personalities and minds — what should be done for their fellow-citizens. This has thus been a deeply cynical campaign—for neither Mr Wilson nor Mr Heath nor Mr Thorpe has been up there saying what. he believes: he has been, rather, spouting words written down for him on the basis of the best technical advice available. Since Mr Wilson has, however, relied least of the three on the prepared pap feeding of so-called experts, he best deserves a mandate.
None of this is to say that a good political leader should not use, and often be swayed by, good advice. The vital point is that any Prime Minister should, in the words of Sir Herbert Butterfield—which I have had occasion to quote before — be 'the presiding mind of his cabinet". In the last five years we have had, rather, a Mr Wilson asking his advisers to tell him how best to regain power, and a Mr Heath pathetically raising the same question, and grabbing at any answer that seems available. For all that Mr
Previous page
