SPECTATOR'S NOTEBOOK

J. W. M. THOMPSON

We have had a heavy crop of intemperate and even lunatic remarks from extremist immigrant spokesmen in recent days. 'One of the biggest ways we can help ourselves is to ruin the economy of this country,' said one 'Black Power' leader. Another speaker has talked of the 'inevitability' of 'race war' here. There has been a call for separate trade unions for coloured people and also (light relief, perhaps) a demand that India should 'leave the Common- wealth' unless the Commonwealth Prime Minis- ters' Conference next month dealt with race relations in Britain. It is, of course, tempting to dismiss all this as hot air and nonsense from a few wild men, and such remarks certainly don't represent the ideas of coloured people generally in this country. Nevertheless, I do think they pose a problem, and one which is not being faced.

When a white politician makes immoderate speeches a powerful chorus of refutation is instantly audible: other politicians condemn it. newspapers join in, and Mr Mark Bonham Carter expresses his disapproval in cogent language on television and the press. But when a coloured speaker airs his extremist views there is little but embarrassed silence from the liberal ranks. This is an absurdity and a potentially dangerous one. I have made the point before, and make it again now because. it does seem to me important: the language of violence or extremism needs to be countered and argued with whatever its source may be. Some of the responsibility belongs to the moderate leaders of the immigrant com- munities: it is up to them to help teach their followers the ideas of free speech and tolerance which this country tries to sustain. But me. Bonham Carter, as the legally appointed cus- todian of race relations, clearly has to face this question too. His reply to Mr Enoch Powell's Eastbourne speech was substantial and effective. Where is his reply to all the extremist voices (and forces) on the other side of the fence? Does a Black Power fanatic have td' get elected to Parliament before he merits the attention of the Race Relations Board?

Owls for breakfast

Our legislators have so contrived things 'that they start work later in the day than almost everybody else, except night-watchmen. In one sense, therefore, it's not surprising that they acquiesced--or put up only an ineffectual pro- test—when British Standard Time was pushed through Parliament. Now, of course, the coma Plaints foretold by anybody who thought Properly about the matter are being heard in the land. By 'properly' I mean, naturally, in terms of human beings instead of in terms of some ridiculous economist's calculations about notional savings in fuel. To make matters worse or us all, the gloomy mornings we must endure horribly match all the dark news which at present swirls daily around us like an evil tide. An owl hooted in the blackness outside my window as I was having breakfast this week. At night-time I like to hear owls, their note on a moonlit night always seeming to me decidedly more cheerful than popular belief allows. But at breakfast time the effect was unpropitious, to say the least; we might have been fugitives roused at midnight to start on some dreadful journey into the unknown. What would the Romans have made of such an omen? Nothing encouraging, I am sure. But it fitted all too well the dire news of human failures and miseries which the BBC was transmitting in routine fashion over the radio at the time. This combination of black news and Stygian mornings is some sort of summa- tion of all our present discontents.

Let there be dark

It was Mr Callaghan who pushed British Standard Time through Parliament, with that well-known air of unctuous superiority which he favours. Now he appears to be worried about the unpopularity of his 'reform': at least he promises that it will be reviewed at the end of this winter. When it was being discussed in Parliament the point was very firmly made that nothing less than a three-year trial was ade- quate. People would have to be habituated to the change, one gathered, like experimental rats in a laboratory, before they came to accept whatever benefits there may be in it. It must naturally take a little time to recognise the 'advantages of having our clocks chiming in unison with those of Zagreb or Giurgiu. What troubles Mr Callaghan and his colleagues now, no doubt, is the thought that people might prove more refractory than had been calcu- lated: that they might still be fuming at this impertinent interference in their lives when the next election comes along. That, on top of everything else, would really cook Labour's goose.

The episode is in fact a classic example of nanny-like state meddling. There was no public demand for the change at all, but some dim soul in Whitehall thought it would be good for us and so it was duly forced through Par- liament by means (this is almost incredible) of the party whip. It says a terrible lot about the way we are governed. It also says a lot

about Mr Callaghan's nature as a politician. Why on earth did he put the whip on to enforce BST, instead of letting sin reflect public opinion in a free vote? For the same reason, presumably, that made him put the whip on to force through his pet decimal money system, and to enforce his votes-at-eighteen plan, and to carry his House of Lords proposals. All of these were proper subjects for free. non- party votes: but Mr Callaghan seems to enjoy making Parliament (and the rest of us) do as he says.

Out of scale

Everyone seems to assume these days that the Redcliffe-Maud commission on local government is going to recommend much larger local authorities than at present exist (Mr Callaghan gave a strong hint to this effect the other day). This, it is presumed, will rejuvenate local government, lead to greater efficiency, and so on. May be. But I find it rather odd that of all the complaints made so vociferously

against public administration—that it is too

remote, too bureaucratic, too impersonal, too reckless of individuals' rights—the one com- plaint that is never heard from the public is that it is too localised or that it operates in too small units. Stories of large authorities' failure to cope with small local problems are met with everywhere (John Grigg had a fine saga recently in the Observer of Blackheath's battle with various distant authorities to get a

pedestrian crossing) and the whole drift of public discontent with the administrative machine is against the polarisation of power at remote points. Yet hardly anyone seems to argue that therefore the sensible course is to revive local government by letting the power in local matters genuinely reside locally: which means small, but effective, local authorities. I recall that Tory and Labour MPS alike nearly had a fit recently when they found that the Transport Bill actually contemplated allowing local councils to fix their own speed limits. Tut tut! Such anarchy! That was quickly squashed; and what we are going to get after Redcliffe-Maud, no doubt, are regional super-councils: and much joy may they bring us.

The Smith report

That was a comical mishap suffered this week by Mr B. M. Smith, Socio-Educational Re- search Fellow (no less) at the University of Sussex. He wrote a pompous letter to The Thnes defending the practice of presenting undergraduates with questionnaires about their own and their parents' private lives—it was, he explained, 'research,' and there was no need to fear that unauthorised eyes would ever see the replies, since `no one but myself and my staff has access to this information.' Poor Mr Smith thereupon had the mortification of seeing his letter published on the very day there was an outcry over the Birmingham students' action in raiding the private and confidential files of their own Vice-Chancellor. The moral which many will have drawn, alas, is—if you have confidential information, don't entrust it to a university these days. Mr Smith, in view of the dignity of his title, may be expected to recognise the tag. 'Et setnel emission volat irrevocabile verbum': it may be rendered (for those not in socio-educational circles) as 'A word once let out of the cage cannot be whistled back again.'