SPECTATOR'S NOTEBOOK

J. W. M. THOMPSON

Parliament's reputation has almost certainly declined further in the public mind as a result of recent filibustering tactics, notably against the Abortion Bill. Many people, I find, tend to despise such activities. However, I'm not sure this is altogether fair. Admittedly much of Hansard for these all-night sittings makes pretty dismal. reading—a vast flow of verbiage, punc- tuated by such things as Mr Andrew Faulds's notorious bit of schoolboy dirt and such inquiries as, 'Is it in order for the right hon Gentleman to say "bloody impudence"?' But playing for time is not against the rules. One must concede, grudgingly perhaps, that the fact that parliamentary time is finite is a constant element in the legislative struggle. Given that the opponents of a Bill are sincere, they can hardly be blamed for opposing by all authorised means.

If the Government had made it plain from the start that they were willing to provide all the time needed to reach a decision on the Abortion Bill, then probably nothing would have been heard about filibustering. This course was taken with Mr Silverman's Bill against hanging. But offering a limited slice of time to the sponsors of so hotly-contested a Bill not only made the Government seem timid about associating itself too closely with a controversial measure: it also directly invited energetic opponents to give battle on the chosen ground, which they did, with wearisome effect.

Obedience

To my mind the behaviour of MPS in the debate on the Stansted airport plan was far more depressing than any filibuster. I'm not referring to the actual speeches, although it was sad to see a decision which will profoundly affect the lives of a great many people dwindling into a shallow party squabble over the appor- tionment of responsibility. No : what made it so unedifying a spectacle was the obedient way in which more than a hundred Members, who had earlier put their signatures to a motion calling for reconsideration of Stansted, trotted through the division lobby to deny their own words at the order of the Government whips. This is the sort of self-emasculation which really does encourage contempt for politicians —especially since the Minister chiefly con- cerned, Mr Douglas Jay, practises a form of oratory which, whatever else may have been said about it at various times, can never have been described as excessively persuasive.

Boom or bust

There may well have been more stupefyingly absurd enterprises than the proposed 'tests' of supersonic bangs over southern England, but if so they don't come readily to mind. The facts, it would appear, are these: the bangs, while no doubt disagreeable or worse, are agreed to bear little resemblance to the appalling din the super- sonic airliner of the future will produce; never- theless the object is to 'test public reaction'; even so, the Ministry of Technology is decidedly shifty about how people are expected actually to register their disapproval; in any event, one of the few remaining advantages of living on an island is that aeroplanes can be directed over the sea to cut down noise, so there need never be any occasion for British planes to make sonic bangs over our heads; the real objective, therefore, is to decide whether German business- men flying to compete with our exporters in New York should be allowed to crash across this country making an insane racket while they are about it.

In other words, the thing is a laughable non- sense, or it would be laughable but for one's deep conviction that, whatever sort of 'public reaction' is displayed, the day wilt inevitably come when we shall be told that sonic booms are 'a necessary part of modern living' which we 'cannot afford' to do without.

Skin game

It's been obvious for some time that the next development on the 'permissiveness' front was likely to be in favour of the users of the milder drugs: and legal hamhandedness in the Chichester case has probably done no more than speed up an inevitable process. I can bear it, personally, provided only that people don't go on and on about their experiences. Most leisure activities, whether drinking or playing golf or fox-hunting or smoking marihuana, are best practised discreetly and talked about very

seldom. Meanwhile, an innocent diversion for trend-spotters is deciding where the banner of freedom will next be raised. The municipal- brothel advocates of Birmingham hardly have the look of serious runners in the race. I now have a small bet on public nudity, this hunch having been reinforced by reading Anthony Hern's most entertaining new book, The Seaside Holiday (Cresset Press, 35s).

I don't suppose many of the sun-bathing hordes today realise that 200 years ago swimming costumes, bikini-style or otherwise, simply didn't exist. Anyone who bathed in the sea did so naked, and many were thus depicted by Row- landson and his predecessors. The habit of nakedness resisted Victorian prudery at Mar- gate at least into the 1860s, and I shall not he surprised if it comes to be revived fairly soon in the name of twentieth century emancipa!wn. What would be surprising would be a reat-1 to the other practice which Mr Hern d ,t:- ments—namely, bathing off English shore, n the winter months on grounds of health. Finny Burney immersed herself in the Channel it six a.m. (by moonlight) in November 1782 on medical advice, but decided that it would be imprudent to risk a bathe a few years later—in August.

Saved

The Nature Conservancy has made a great gain by taking over some 10,000 acres of wild and

beautiful Norfolk coast to form the new Holk- ham nature reserve. One grows so accustomed to groaning at the destruction of such places that an announcement of this sort brings an

extra bonus of pleasure. I know this strip of coast well and consider it one of the most

fascinating places in England. The landscape is not to everyone's taste, mercifully : the lonely stretches of marsh and sand dunes and tidal creeks tempt no large crowds. Nevertheless, a scattering of devotees up and down the country will sigh with relief at the news of its preservation.

The name Holkham, of course, comes from the vast Palladian mansion which Coke of Nor- folk, the great agriculturalist, built nearby. This rather sombre pile, set in a superb park, is of profound importance in the history of the countryside. It was there that Coke set about revolutionising agriculture in the eighteenth century, transforming his own sandy wastes into a rich property in the process. It's said his rent went up from £2,000 to £20,000 in his life- time, and that his tenants made their fortunes nevertheless. I don't suppose the Ministry of Technology today can claim any comparable rise in productivity or output. Even if they could, they would hardly expect to leave behind a landscape which it would be a national duty to protect.

Togetherness

A week which has produced so many angry disagreements in Parliament may be an odd one to produce the finest flower of the 'politics of consensus' vogue: but this, from a press report after one of the all-night sittings, will take some beating: 'The consensus of opinion appears to be that the [Abortion] Bill will have served its purpose in providing opportunities for MPS to air their views and for the Government to form a fairly accurate assessment of the consensus of opinion.'