A Spectator's Notebook

Christmas began early — all too early, it might be thought, for a nation in economic disorder and worse. Many people were already going away on the previous Monday; by Christmas Eve the London stations, while not deserted, were much quieter than they are on any normal weekday. A week's holiday — that is what it amounted to for a great number — can only be called an ill-timed indulgence; an extravagance compounded, moreover, by the standstill to which we are now subjected on New Year's Day.

Various contrasts nevertheless come to mind. One, admittedly extreme, is the fortitude (or whatever) of the Asian shopkeepers in our midst who remained open throughout Christmas Day and Boxing Day, no doubt to considerable public convenience — and, one hopes, some advantage to themselves.

Where does responsibility lie for the astonishing coup in Vienna when the OPEC ministers were so easily taken hostage — that is to say ultimate responsibility? Amid much speculation there is a growing belief, in some quarters amounting to certainty, that the real authors are not to be found in the Arab world. More probably, they are the' agents of a conspiracy having its origins in Moscow, a conspiracy dedicated to the overthrow of western society, western values, the broad western interest — which of course includes stability in the Middle East.

The selfsame conspiracy is no doubt responsible for what is happening in the Lebanon. Day by day, this rich and beautiful little country is being brought to destruction by forces directed from beyond its own frontiers. It is tragic, not only for the Lebanon and the Middle East in general but for the larger western cause.

The playwright Ronald Duncan and Miranda Weston-Smith are together editing a book that promises to be very informative. They are calling it The Edge of Knowledge: an Encyclopaedia of Ignorance. In their own words, this will be "an attempt to define knowledge from a new vantage point — from the position of what we do not know." Among other revelations (if that is the term), some of the world's leading scientists will be discoursing on what they are most conscious of not knowing in their own fields.

An enlightening affair. Any readers who may see themselves as contributors should write to the enterprising pair at Mead Farm, Welcombe, near Bideford, North Devon.

There would be little hope of stability in Pakistan if the opposition parties were to succeed in dislodging Mr Bhutto. No one in the country is equipped to replace him as Prime Minister. Zulfikar Ali Bhutto is not only the most accomplished political leader in Pakistan: with Chou En-lai he is outstanding among eastern statesmen.' In manner and appearance, as well as intuitive skill, he has been likened to a younger Harold Macmillan. Other characteristicstapart, he has something of Mr Macmillan's relaxed, even languid, wit. The fiasco at Oxford a year ago when he was denied an honorary doctorate of civil law (which he had never sought) was of course a disgrace to the University and an embarrassment to the British Government. Not that Mr Bhutto took it altogether tragically. In a memorable comment, made to George Hutchinson shortly afterwards and reproduced in The Times, he remarked: "If I'd sat for the damned thing I'd have got it easier". Quite true, too; he read law at Christ Church.

Mr Bhutto is both a millionaire and a socialist. He is also a man of apparently limitless energy and of worldlywise insight. He is intellectually as well as physically tough and resilient. What is more, he is an orator, a romantic. While no one is literally indispensable, Pakistan would be in poorer shape without him.

The Afghan Government, a, contemptible puppet of the Soviet Union, is working against him unceasingly nowadays, especially in the North West Frontier Province, forever preaching secession over the radio and unleashing havoc by bombing and other forms of terror ism. This from a secular state that brazenly proclaims itself, with such hypocrisy, "The Islamic Republic of Afghanistan." This from a country condemned as a prime source of the ghastly international traffic in drugs.

Then again the Pakistanis have the awful example of Mrs Gandhi's fascist India alongside them — a police state, a tyranny not unlike the Soviet Union or its satellites. Mr Bhutto, in contrast, is an old-fashioned radical, strongwilled but high-minded.

O Returning to Mr Heath and the Speakership, a subject discussed in these columns last week, there is the further appeal of precedent — though not exact precedent. If he were prepared to accept Mr Selwyn Lloyd's role Mr Heath would not be the first to have held office both as Prime Minister and Speaker. Addington did so; but in reverse order, the other way round.

Henry Addington, later Lord Sidmouth (1757-1844), was Speaker first, Prime Minister second. The distinction might perhaps attract Mr Heath. He likes to be a bit different.

El We keep hearing about Mrs Thatcher's impending reshuffle of her shadow cabinet. When is Mr Wilson going to reshuffle or reshape or reinvigorate the real Cabinet? Can Mrs Castle, for one, be allowed to remain a member of the Government after so antagonising the medical profession?

Barbara Castle has had an outstanding political career. But enough is enough: time to call it a day, in her own and everyone else's interests. Surely Mr Wilson could ennoble her in her own right, so that she might join her husband in the Lords, along with all the other IPC journalists.

fl "Whatever the politicians might occasionally do to ridicule one another, they were held in high esteem by the public. For this there were many reason's. Members of Parliament were unpaid; and somehow the public always likes amateurs. The great majority of Members had no desire for office. They sat, often unopposed, in Parliament after Parliament, for constituencies which had elected their fathers and grandfathers. Many, of course, were the eldest sons of peers. Parliamentary sessions normally began in February and ended half-way through August — as they still do in the United States, Australia and other democratic countries. An autumn session was practically unknown. So Parliament did not interfere unduly with normal country life. Grouse, partridges, pheasants had been disposed of, a reasonable amount of hunting had been managed, before the call of the Parliamentary Whips."

Thus Mr Harold Macmillan, alluding to his own youth, in his new book The Past Masters. Are we better off under today's arrangements? Are the lengthier parliamentary sessions more productive of good government, more fruitful in achievement?

It is a poor do when journalists (like those at the BBC) either strike or threaten to strike over allegedly "unsocial hours" of work. The attitude is quite pitiful in members of a Bohemian profession. What was Fleet Street called? The Street of Adventure? But perhaps the editorial staff of the BBC is more akin to the bureaucracy.