Westminster Commentary
HERE, without a word altered, is a series of connected ex- tracts from the proceedings on Tuesday, the Glorious 4th of June, 1957, of Her Majesty's Commons assembled: Mr. Chctwynd asked the Minister of Housing and Local' Government whether he will investi- gate the pollution of the atmosphere at present affecting the Stockton-on-Tees district, and initi- ate action to detect and remove the cause of the noxious smell which is causing a public nuis-
ance. . .
MR. BROOKE: I understand that there was a bad smell when the hon. Member was in his constituency. . . .
MR. CHETWYND: Is the Minister aware that . . . the smell was Very much worse last weekend when the Prime Minister was there?
Actually it was worse than this, because Hansard, In its majesty, does not recall the laughter, giggles, chuckles, grimaces and general winsomeness with which the bread was buttered. (Mr. Chetwynd, when he got to that dazzling bit about the Prime Minister, was so convulsed with his own wittiness that he could hardly get the words out.) As for me, I had a great desire to go outside and throw up, or even stay inside and do so.
And yet . . . is it really their fault? If Simon de Montfort could see his handiwork now he would, it is true, be struck dead with remorse on the spot. But the triviality and absurdity of the members are only, after all, a reflection of the triviality and absurdity of the business, whose creatures they are; and that in its turn is only another way of saying that the whole structure of Parliamentary democracy in a system choked by overriding party considerations and driven on by the inexorable dynamic of running a modern State is badly in need of a detailed re-examination, preferably of a somewhat deeper nature than the one it is likely to receive from that well-known skiffle-group Earl Attlee and his Privy Council- lors. It needs, in short, the searching light of a Taper, and in the long recess it will get it.
Mind you, the example I have quoted is by no means the only sign, from this week's business, that they need the Whitsun break as badly as I do. The spectacle of Mr. Bob Mellish, in a high state of choler, springing chivalrously to the protection of Mr. Philip Noel-Baker was highly entertaining (though not, I would guess, to Mr. Philip Noel- Baker). A number of hon. Members on the Tory side have taken to groaning with real or assumed dismay whenever Mr. Noel-Baker senior rises to his feet. The groaning is in fact set on a firm base of empiricism; when Mr. Noel-Baker rises to his feet you can bet your Derby winnings that he is about to produce some pretty overripe bananas, and a groan seems to me to be as good a way of placing the bet as any other. Indeed, is it entirely my imagination, or does Mr. Speaker himself call `Mr. Philip Noel-Bakerrrrr' in tones indicative of something rather less than uncontrollable excite- ment at the prospect of hearing what the Right Hon. Gentleman has to say? But Mr. Mellish's threat to organise a counter-groan for selected members of the Government front bench is an excellent one and should certainly be put into effect without delay. May I suggest, as a prelimin- ary list (I leave off it the more obvious boobies like the Foreign Secretary and the Attorney- General), the Secretary of State of Air, the Parlia- mentary Secretary to the Ministry of Housing and Local Government and, above all, Charlie Hill, whom I for one would be happy to see greeted not merely with groans but with stones?
Which useful missiles very nearly came into play when that great statesman Mr. Aneurin Bevan had a jolly spat with that great statesman Mr. Harold Macmillan, apropos the hydrogen bomb. Mr. Bevan was asking the usual question, and the Prime Minister was giving the usual answer, when suddenly some Tories began to barrack. 'Oh, don't be so bloodthirsty, for heaven's sake,' Mr. Bevan shouted, and when he sat down it was clear he had lost his temper. Mr. Macmillan rose and did his soft-shoe shuffle to the table. Striking an attitude that would have got him thrown out of the Wigan Pier Fol-de-Rols for hamming it up too much, he puffed up his moustache and declared that he deeply resented Mr. Bevan's interjection. This was patently non- sense, and many worthy folk showed clearly that they knew it. If Mr. Macmillan wants us to accept him as of equal stature with say, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, he must take good care not to give the game away so often. As for Mr. Bevan, if he wants us to accept him as ranking with, say, Miss Margaret Bondfield, he must not ask the Prime Minister silly questions and then shout, yell and bawl in a thoroughly undignified manner when the Prime Minister is giving silly answers. As for Mr. Gaitskell, he must take one of those courses advertised on the posters in the Under- ground and stop blushing when Mr. Bevan is making an ass of himself.
The debate on racial policy in Central and East Africa turned, as one might have known, into an elaborate experiment to determine precisely how many cliches can dance on the point of a plati- tude. Mr. Lennox-Boyd, looking very brown (probably from talking to all those Nigerians), set the key with a speech—incidentally, I do wish he wouldn't shout so—which seemed to be composed entirely, and was in fact composed largely, of re- marks like 'contrary to the spirit . . . mutual confidence . . . harmful to the real interests of the Africans . . . poisoned atmosphere . . . greatest possible interest and sympathy . . . treating human beings as human beings . . . get- ting this thing out of proportion . . . a lead in the right direction . . . men and women of our stock . . . carping criticism . . . loyal service . . . the ladder ought to be built . . . interesting leading article in the Manchester Guardian . . . strong action . . . these regulations, which are as distasteful to me as to everybody else . . . a very great disservice to the cause of orderly progress . . . in so far as it is proper for a United King- dom Minister to answer . . . I must apologise to the Committee for the lengthy speech I have made. . .
Now this was a pity. Though Mr. Lennox-Boyd is not the wisest nor most successful of Colonial Secretaries, as many widows of British Service- men in Cyprus could testify, he is far from being the worst; indeed, his tenure of the Colonial Office has been marked by some striking advances. I suppose Mr. Lennox-Boyd could reply that the debate had been asked for by the Opposition, and it would have been churlish of him simply to announce that he had nothing to say on the sub- ject and resume his seat. But if he had done so he would have set a.' precedent which might have been followed with advantage by many of the subsequent speakers. Mr. Callaghan led off for the Opposition with as soapy a speech as I have heard this many a day, and as the evening wore on I became more and more convinced that when Str Roy Welensky declares that he is not interested in what Westminster has to say on the subject of the Central African Federation, Sir Roy has a point there. A small prize to Mr. Nairn (a slightly larger prize to anyone who can tell me who Mr. Nairn is) for beginning his speech with the words 'Perhaps I should start by saying that 1 still travel upon a Southern Rhodesian passport, and that I felt it is a very heavy responsibility to take part in a debate of this sort'—a remark 1 have not heard equalled since Major-General Spears's splendid announcement, during the 1945 election, that hundreds of millions of Arabs were watching to see how he was faring as Conservative candi-
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