SPECTATOR'S NOTEBOOK
J. W. M. THOMPSON
There's a lot to be said for reducing the number of mi.& as I was remarking the other week. But the one place I hadn't ex- pected to find support for this opinion was in the House of Commons itself. Neverthe- less, a substantial majority of Members have lately been giving the most striking proof imaginable of their own sense of insignifi- cance and redundancy. One begins to think they really are yearning for their own ex- tinction. This, at least, is the most palatable explanation of the fact that something like three Members out of four were absent from the division lobbies when the Divorce Reform Bill received its third reading on a free vote. I suppose it could be argued that this large majority were too lazy or too bored to bother; or that they were too scared of upsetting some of their constit- uents by taking a stand on a delicate issue; or that they dimly thought opening garden fetes and suchlike in their own constit- uencies would be of more lasting value. But the kindest view is surely that they were overcome by a sense of their own unimport- ance when forced to consider casting votes without the whips to tell them how to do it. They saw themselves suddenly as redun- dant or unworthy, and acted accordingly.
Once it becomes law, this Bill will affect innumerable private lives for better or for worse, and it will introduce a fundamentally new element into every marriage. And now, it has sailed lightly through the House of Commons, the grand inquest of the nation and so forth, on the votes of a zealous one- sixth of our elected representatives. 'One man one vote' is all very fine for backward African countries, but at Westminster they have a rather different notion.
Reeling and writhing
One reason why Parliament has not been making a very happy impression lately may be found in the scale and entertainment value of the distractions off-stage. The Cabi- net and 'Luc have been putting on an extra- ordinary performance. It might almost he modelled on the 'Living Theatre' which has recently been plumbing new depths for Lon- don audiences. Like those American theatri- cal innovators, they have been writhing, groaning, wailing and sobbing all over the place; baring their souls if not yet their persons; occasionally throwing a sudden in- sult to a member of the audience or urging a bewildered critic to remove his trousers. What drama! Its hard to recall anything like it in the annals of purposive govern- ment. Perhaps tun shouldn't be blamed if they feel their parts have dwindled to insig- nificance and therefore shirked doing their duty on the divorce Bill.
Portent
By all accounts the flight of the Concorde over central London gave a patriotic thrill to the crowds. As the spectators had all paid through the nose in taxes for the privilege of creating that expensive noise over their heads, they were undoubtedly entitled to some such return on their money: hardly any of them, after all, can ever expect to be able to fly in the machine. Out in the country, I may say, public reaction was cooler. It was not altogether tactful to send the Concorde cruising over villages and countryside already burdened with the in- trusive din of aircraft by day and night.
That loop around south-east England which the newspapers' maps plotted had a menac- ing look, rather as if the Concorde were making a reconnaissance of territory which it, and the forces it represents, will before long invade and subjugate.
I was beside the edge of a wood, in one of those secret bits of rural England which still survive, when the Concorde came over on its recce. 1 couldn't actually see the thing fors the trees, but for a few moments the whole landscape was occupied by its persis- tent, masterful roar. The skylarks and yellowhammers and similar anachronisms which had been in sole possession of the atmosphere until then were momentarily stifled. The entire scene, unchanged in its essentials for I don't know how many cen- turies, suddenly seeemed flimsy, imperma- nent, and doomed.
The urban takeover
It is not in the least fanciful, in fact, to see approaching a great turning point in the history of the English countryside. It is a commonplace among politicians that first impressions of a Budget are never the last- ing ones (this year's, with its hidden pen- sions bill, is an example); and the same may be true of royal commissions' reports. Whereas first reactions to the Redcliffe- Maud report tended to concentrate upon the reshaping of the great urban areas, I'm not sure that posterity won't be more struck by the fact that this report for the first time elevated to the level of national policy the idea that the ancient distinction between town and country must be abolished. The Prime Minister was quick to applaud this proposition: the division between town and country Was 'anachronistic', he said, in view of 'the requirements of planning and com- munications in the modern age'. In practice this means, of course, that the country's tiresome refusal to see itself merely as empty space waiting for the towns to use is to be overcome by suppressing such powers of self-government as it still possesses. There's a rare triumph of efficiency for us.
However, puzzling as it may seem to the devotees of total urbanisation, it won't be achieved without a stiff fight. I'm delighted to see that the Rural District Councils Asso- ciation has unanimously resolved to resist. What's more, the parish of Markenfield. with an electorate of seven, was probably the first local authority unit in the land to reject Redcliffe-Maud lock, stock and barrel. Any electorate of seven is more likely to utter sense than an electorate of 700.000; besides. Markenfield is in Yorkshire and I'm never surprised to hear the voice of saniti coming from that direction.
Don't follow my leader
'A public opinion poll . . . gave M Poher, the 'centrist candidate, his poorest showing in any survey so far-4I.5 per cent.' (Times. page I, 13 June.) 'M Pompidou .. . is now rather in the position of Mr Nixon in the last days before the American election, see- ing his lead steadily diminishing and quite unable to do anything about it.' (Times leading article, same day.)
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