The price of chivalry
David Carlton
Whatever the outcome of this week's local elections, the Tories have little cause for complacency about an eventual general election in June or later. The most astonishing aspect of the Darlington by- election result in March was its uncanny similarity to that produced in the same con- stituency in the general election of February 1974. The votes cast were (1974 first):
Labour 20546;20544 Conservative 18477; 18132 Liberal/SDP 11398; 12735 Even the turnout was identical at 80 per cent.
Such an echo from Edward Heath's crucifixion cannot be reassuring for Margaret Thatcher. Nor will she have overlooked the slippage in the Government's performance since the by- election at Mitcham and Morden held when the 'Falklands factor' was predominant. In short, politics are now back to normal with the Conservatives facing electoral judgment On the basis of their domestic achievements.
The Prime Minister may thus already be regretting that she missed her chance to hold a khaki election. How did it happen? We may presume that the public proclama- tions of a number of her senior colleagues — including John Biffen and party chair- man Cecil Parkinson — were of central im- portance. They argued — without evidence — that to seek an immediate electoral man- date would be unthinkable and ruinous. The voters, it was held, would be alienated by such blatant opportunism. Had Margaret Thatcher not misspent her Youth as a chemist and a tax lawyer but had instead become an historian she might have realised the extent of her folly in accepting such arguments. For every parallel in modern British history shows that the elec- torate rewards those who seek oppor- tunistic mid-term endorsements of popular triumphs in overseas policy. Conversely, those Prime Ministers who have opted for the more chivalrous course have paid a heavy price.
A striking example of a Prime Minister who 'missed the bus' (a term he himself made famous in another context) was Neville Chamberlain. In September 1938 he returned from Munich proclaiming 'peace with honour' and duly received an ecstatic welcome. He considered holding an im- mediate general election even though the Parliament had a further two years to run. But on the way back to Downing Street from the airport his Foreign Secretary the Cecil Parkinson of his day — whispered discouraging words in his ear. Lord Halifax recalled in his memoirs: I remember saying to him . . . that he would find in London people who would urge him very strongly to have an im- mediate election, which these advisers would recommend as being greatly in the interest of the Conservative Party. I told him that I thought he ought to resist the counsel, for he was no longer only a par- ty leader; for better, for worse, what he had just done had made him a national leader and he must act accordingly.
Chamberlain thus passed up the chance to secure a five-year mandate for Appease- ment, which he would assuredly have got if he had asked for an immediate dissolution. In a by-election at Oxford in October a pro- Munich Conservative, Quintin Hogg (now Lord Hailsham), had a signal triumph. Soon, however, the public mood changed: a Popular Front candidate, Vernon Bartlett, gained a seat from the Government at the Bridgwater by-election. For Oxford read Mitcham and Morden. For Bridgwater read Darlington.
True, Chamberlain did not lose a subse- quent general election. But in order to avoid that fate he felt compelled in March 1939 to steal the clothes of his opponents and, against his better judgment, to aban- don the Appeasement policy. He was driven to endorse a repugnant quest for alliance with the Soviet Union, then war for Danzig, and finally a coalition with Labour — in short, everything the Tory Wets of the day demanded. His own removal as Prime Minister inexorably followed. And all because he did not go to the country im- mediately following his Munich triumph.
Margaret Thatcher might also have recalled that Benjamin Disraeli was another Prime Minister who was able to bask in public plaudits for achieving 'peace with honour' at a time when his term of office was more than half spent. He, too had every reason to expect victory in an im- mediate electoral contest held in 1878 after the Eastern Question was settled by the Trea- ty of Berlin. But he hesitated and was duly lost. When the general election was finally held in 1880 the Liberals had a sweeping victory. As Disraeli himself remarked, there is no gambling like politics.
Not every Prime Minister, however, has been as chivalrous (or pusillanimous) as Disraeli, Chamberlain and Mrs Thatcher. Consider, for example, Stanley Baldwin. In the autumn of 1935 he suddenly realised that the policy of appearing to stand up to Mussolini over Abyssinia had achieved great electoral popularity. The nation had applauded Sir Samuel Hoare's notably resolute address at the League of Nations and had welcomed the prompt imposition of economic sanctions on the aggressor. But, as usual, a high-minded Biffenesque voice was to be heard. On this occasion it belonged to Ramsay MacDonald, then Lord President of the Council. He urged the Prime Minister not to go to the country because it might be said that he was 'ex- ploiting a mood of national unity for party ends'.
At first Baldwin appeared to concur. But on 16 October 1935 he wrote to the King: . . . at the time of my last audience with your Majesty, it had seemed to me that the election might be held back until the New Year . . . The ground for this an- ticipation has, however, been altered by the developments in the international situation . . . the alternative of an autumn election seems to me inevitable.
Needless to say, Baldwin's cynical move was rewarded. The British people gave him an overall majority of more than 200 seats.
No less successful were Lord Salisbury and David Lloyd George in holding khaki elections in 1900 and 1918. Lloyd George, it is true, could not in any case have long delayed calling a general election. But it was his choice to campaign in favour of hanging the Kaiser and of squeezing Germany until the pips squeaked — a chauvinistic perfor- mance that paid off handsomely. As for Salisbury, he had the option in 1900 of re- maining in office for almost two further years. He preferred, however, to exploit Mafeking emotions and was returned to power with a majority of more than 100 seats.
Margaret Thatcher, by contrast, now faces a daunting task to win an outright working majority in a general election in which domestic issues seem certain to predominate. For in the 116 years since working people began to be enfranchised only one elected Prime Minister after hav- ing served for more than three years has gone on at the subsequent general election to win a second full term. This was Salisbury in 1900 and he, as has been seen, held a premature khaki election. Thus if history is any guide the Prime Minister's best hope must be that the Argentines oblig- ingly attempt another invasion before her time runs out!
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