Westminster Commentary
Tituaso is almost literally as far away from Westminster as it is possible to get without actually leaving-the mainland. Neverthe- less in a few minutes we are go- ing there. And passengers are requested to• hold on to their hats, as it may be a bumpy ride.
First, however, a few final obser- vations on the subject that has swallowed up so many of my inches these last two weeks. Why will 1—and many people who think as I do—vote for a party which promises to repeal the Litter Act and pull down the Board of Trade building in Whitehall, whereas we will not vote for a party which promises to double the standard of living in twenty-five years? The negative half of the proposition I have already dealt with; the reasons are that we do not believe any party can double the standard of living in twenty-five years, the doubling of the standard of living being a project outside the competence of party politics; and that furthermore we even doubt whether the doubling of the 'standard of living in twenty-five years is more important, to many politicians, than doubling their majority. And this applies with equal force to very many more of the issues re- garded by the parties as clectorally paramount.
Very well, then; what do we want? We want, to check, and if possible reverse, the trend towards the bureaucratic, autocratic, depersonalised, illiberal and hideous super-State that has gone on in this country ever -since the First World War at least. The Litter -Act is a trivial example of this; but it represents perfectly a system which in essence attempts to achieve what is regarded as the national good by further restricting the indi- vidual's freedom to strive for what he takes to be his own. Defenders of the Litter Act must show that the cumulative effect of the latter restriction, and all the dozens of far more serious restrictions which it typifies, are less important than the mul- tiplication of the laws which already existed (and were occasionally used) against the littering of the streets and the other such 'evils.' (And they must also argue convincingly in favour of the usefulness of a law which has not in fact made the streets any cleaner, as a glance out of any window will show, and is obviously powerless significantly to affect the condition of the streets at all.) In the name of 'security,' or 'efficiency' or 'tidiness' or 'social hygiene' or 'public morality,' we are every year, to put it as simply as possible, getting less free than we were, and to no purpose that I for one can approve of. And nobody seems to worry very much. Who now recalls the telephone- tapping storm? Who worries about what it revealed? Nobody but me and my friends. Who will seek our votes with a straightforward pledge to abolish the practice? Ah.
But tonight we go to Paradise by way of Thurso. In Thurso they have a family called Waters, and another called Banks. Also a café named Cardusi's. And a branch of the Boys' Bri- gade. And according 'to the evidence quoted in 'Abe House of Commons some very odd policemen indeed. And—which is just as well in the circum- stances—Sir David Robertson for their M P. Last week, on an adjournment debate late at night, Sir David quietly and passionlessly told a story about the foregoing dran atis. persome that made my hair stand on end—no mean feat, as a glance at the decoration at the head of this column will show. Sir David's tale, to which he said he had seventeen separate written witnesses' statements, is briefly as follows. A fifteen-year-old boy, John Waters bight, went to the cinema in Thurso, and afterwards to Cardusi's café. Cardusi's, says Sir David (who knows it), is a respectable establish- ment; the boy, to judge by the references given on his behalf to Sir David by his headmaster, employer and Boys' Brigade officer, is of a posi- tively alarming respectability. (*They are far better,' said Sir David, 'than would ever have been given me at his age.') Well, then. While John Waters was in the café with his companions, two policemen, named Gunn and Harper, entered (without being invited and in response to no dis- orderly conduct) and took the boy outside, where they told him, for no reason apparent to anybody within sight or earshot, 'to behave himself. In doing so, they tore his jacket. Disinclined to take impertinence of this kind from a couple of roz- zers, the boy ran after them to remonstrate. They topk him down an alleyway, where he was shortly afterwards found beaten and bleeding, and with his clothing torn, by, a Mrs. McPhee. She took him to a doctor, who listed the various bruises and lacerations upon the boy and noted that he was in a state of shock, as well he might be. The same evening, the Waters family, which was in a high state of indignation about all this, was visited by a Mrs. Banks, the employer of the boy's mother, and (it is said) a relative of one of the coppers in the case, and I do mean case. She attempted to get the Waters family to agree that they would not proceed with a charge against the police, and failed, I am happy to say. (She has since entered a mental hospital, and there, since her evidence has nothing to do with what happened to the boy, we may for the moment leave her.) Later a charge was laid at the local police station. It was not proceeded with. Mr. Waters pare was told a week or ten days later to take the matter to Wick, the county town. He took it. Eventually he was informed that the Procurator Fiscal (equivalent in Scottish law of a bench of magistrates in England) had decided, on advice from Crown Counsel, that there was no case to answer. Enter Sir David Robertson, MP. He put down a question to the Lord Advocate (Scottish equivalent of "the Attorney-General). He was asked to withdraw it while inquiries were made. He did. The Lord Advocate reported that he could see no grounds for a prosecution. Down went the question again. The Lord Advocate budged' not an inch, and refused to give' the evidence (he claimed to have investigated the matter) on which he decided that seventeen inde- pendent witnesses (plus the boy) were either lying or totally mistaken. Whereupon (some months later, for the mills of Parliamentary procedure' grind slowly) Sir David got his adjournment de- bate, and we were off. And so, I trust, before this business is over, will be the head of the Lord Advocate. I am often accused of treating Parliament with con- tempt; but if ever I treat Parliament with the con- tempt displayed by the Lord Advocate on this occasion, I hope I will be not merely summoned to the Bar, but hit on the head with it. 'Crown Counsel decided,' he said blandly, 'that criminal proceedings would not be justified.' And 'I hope,' he added, with a manner presumably meant to be ingratiating, but which reminded me of nothing so much as the celebrated definition of the least appetising thing on earth (a cup of warm lard with a sardine in it), 'the House will note how I phrase that.' He then went on to refuse once again to give the reasons for his decision, to tell some idiotic cock-and-bull story about a hypothetical case which was the exact reverse to this one, to dredge up a pre,cedent of Sir Hartley Shawcross, and to sit down.
I think not. To begin with, who is the Lord Advocate? Who and ,what is this extraordinary creature? For the record, he is a Mr. Milligan (though not to be confused with his famous namesake, Mr. Spike Milligan). Now does he believe that the facts in this case do not justify a prosecution? I fear he does, but could wish he did not, for on the face of it such a belief would seem to indicate that there is something seriously wrong with the inside of his head. Seventeen witnesses may be wrong; or there may be eighteen on the other side. But seventeen wit- nesses, as they say in the Useful Data in the front of my diary, equal one case, and the Lord Advocate will come to the penitent's stool and say so before this business is over, or some of us will know the reason why.
So, I think, will Mr. Niall Macpherson. Mr. Macpherson, who is one of the three ineffable Under-Secretaries of State for Scotland (and whose thumb-print, it is said, may still be seen on the Dumfries and Galloway Standard), had to answer questions on this subject on Tuesday, the Secretary of State having preferred discretion to valour. Sir David Robertson asked him to hold an inquiry; not he. Mr. Howell, Mr. Wood- burn, Mr. Shinwell, Mr. Herbert Morrison, like- wise. No. Came the usual Tory stooge to say that he thought the Minister was wonderful (like our policemen). Thank you. Followed a less usual Tory (Sir James Hutchison) to say that anxiety over this matter was not confined to the Opposi- tion, with an encouraging rattle of Tory hear- hears.' Mr. Macpherson hid behind the Lord Advocate's office and made a noise like a door shutting. Mr. Woodburn knocked at it, and Mr. Shinwell rattled the handle. Nothing happened.
No, I think not. I think that there is more at stake here than the future (or even the past) of two policemen. I think something is going to be done about this, even if it means teaching Lord Advocate Milligan a thing or two on the way round. '
If war is too serious a matter to be left to generals, justice is too serious a matter to be left to lawyers. As for me, I shall be happy to think that I have made a shade clearer my reasons for objecting to the Litter Act. Give them a fag-end, and they'll take a truncheon. And hit you over the head with it too, I shouldn't wonder.
'TAPER
Previous page
