POLITICAL COMMENTARY o we,' inquired one political correspondent D this
week, 'really have to go through all this again?' He was referring, of course, to the nego- tiations, or whatever the currently favoured word is, for entry into the Common Market. He was looking forward with some apprehension to writ- ing about the Treaty of Rome once more; even, perhaps, who knows? to reading it. And it was easy to understand his gloom. What is the precise meaning of Article 237? What is to be done about exports of kangaroo meat, to say nothing of jute? Answer me that, sir. And, while you are about it, what exactly is jute anyway? Such questions as these may have been meat and drink to Mr Edward Heath : this only goes to show what a limited man Mr Heath must be.
It would no doubt be possible for ardent marketeers to argue, employing one of the Prime Minister's favourite phrases, that irresponsible talk of this nature is confined to frivolous British journalists. (The press as an institution is by contrast unbelievably solemn about the Market.) Not so, however. One gets very much the same kind of reaction from Members of Parliament. Perhaps they are frivolous too : but in this column we must take the facts as we find them. And the truth is that, while opposition to the Market has abated—where, for instance, are Sir Derek Walker-Smith's splendid legal sonorities about the sovereignty of Parliament and the position of Her Majesty?—at the same time there is no feeling abroad of a mighty crusade to enter Europe.
Mr Harold Wilson's motives, after all, are fairly sithple : he is trying to get into Europe because he can think of nothing better to do. Or, to put tie situation differently, he hopes in this way to en- courage business to invest. In fact he spelled this out with engaging candour at the Lord Mayor's banquet on Monday. Having said this, is there anything more to be said about the Market? MPs and even ministers do not seem to think so. Having made the sage observation that 'it all depends on the General,' they go on to talk of telephone-tapping and rumours of an imminent Government reshuffle.
There is, I believe, an important political truth hidden behind the slightly weary response which Mr Wilson's statement on the Market evoked. This is that we are now entering a period of dull, or, if you prefer it, stable, politics. There is a case for saying that ever since the end of 1956 British politics have been in an unnaturally febrile con- dition. Certainly there is a case for saying that they have been in this state since 1963. Though one can never tell, things now appear to have settled down. The Government's main lines of policy have been fixed. The talks with the Euro- pean countries will go on and on, Mr George Brown will grow more and more irate, and some- thing may come out of it all in the end, or not, as the case may be.
At home Mr Michael Stewart will become more and more worried (as well he may), Mr Roy Jenkins will not let his admirers down and Mr Anthony Crosland will continue to do good by stealth. 'Ancient institutions and modern improve- ments, I suppose, Mr Tadpole,' said Mr Taper. 'Ameliorations,' replied Mr Tadpole, 'is the better word; ameliorations. Nobody knows exactly what it means.' This, it seems, is to be the pattern of the next few years. And it is therefore as convenient By ALAN WATKINS a time as any to look back on the period from October 1964 until today which, despite the inter- vention of a general election, possesses a certain unity.
Three years ago Mr Richard Crossman wrote a perceptive essay entitled 'The Lessons of 1945.' In this he was concerned, as he put it, `to hack away the jungle of complacent myth and self- congratulatory legend which obscured the real record of the Attlee government from the eyes of the faithful.' And Mr Crossman selected three defects of the 1945 Government : it failed to do its homework before taking office, it retained conservative-minded personnel in the civil service and it broke off relations with the rank and file of the Labour movement.
As it happens, precisely the same criticisms may be made of Mr Wilson's government. I am over- whelmed by a luxury of examples. To take three, covering the three defects listed by Mr Crossman: Was any preparatory work done on what govern- ment policy should be in the event of a run on sterling? Could one be more conservative-minded than Sir Laurence Helsby or Sir Burke Trend? And was the rank and file in Mr Attlee's day ever treated as contemptuously as it was at the last Labour conference? However, it is doubtful whether Mr Crossman would now choose to make exactly these criticisms of the Government of which he is a member. Quite apart from anything else, he is too good a journalist to repeat himself. What, then, would Mr Crossman say in his forth- coming essay (I calculate the year of publication as 1984) to be entitled The Lessons of 1966'? Let me offer him some rough and preliminary notes. becomes clear. Unlike, say, Aneurin Bevan, unlike even Hugh Gaitskell, Mr Wilson does not see politics as being concerned with clashes between social groups or conflicts between great ideas. He simply does not think in these terms.
Thus devaluation was excluded partly because Mr Wilson felt it would somehow be 'dishonest' for the Government to deprive sterling holders of the original value of the money they had entrusted to Britain (a view which, quaintly enough, Pro- fessor Kenneth Galbraith also appears to hold). Again, there has been some criticism among Mr Wilson's colleagues because he has been, as they think, much too forthcoming and open in his deal- ings with Mr Ian Smith.
And, in his relations with the members of the Government, one can also see Mr Wilson's pre- dilection for looking at political questions in personal terms. It is true that the Prime Minister, a great student and admirer of Mr Harold Mac-
millan, believes that the old conjuror's greatest
error was the night of the long knives in 1962. But this is hardly a sufficient explanation for Mr Wilson's reluctance to dismiss ministers. After all, no one is asking for a night of the long knives; merely for the removal of possibly Mr Arthur Bottomley and certainly Mr Fred Lee. Why is Mr Lee kept in office—at the time of writing, at least, he was still in office—except out of loyalty to an old supporter? And, since we are on the subject, why is Mr George Wigg still around? It is vtell known that, on several occasions, Mr Wigg has succeeded in embarrassing the Prime Minister; yet he is kept on. In practice, admittedly, Mr Crossman is taking over several of Mr Wigg's functions; and we may look forward with a fair degree of confidence to some entertaining bound- ary disputes between these two former allies Mr Wilson's cause.
Far be it from me to suggest that Mr Wilson is primarily, or even secondarily, concerned with being nice to people. If he could find a trouble- free method of inconveniencing, say, Mr Desmond Donnelly, there is every reason to sup- pose that he would employ it. It would be too
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