Political Commentary
The conference game restarts
Patrick Cosgrave
Keats's description of autumn as a "season of mists and mellow fruitfulness" is scarcely appropriate even climatically as one contemplates the opening of the new political season. For again this year both the major Party conferences are to be held in Blackpool; and I shivered — not metaphorically — last Sunday as I sat in my comfortable living room and listened to a BBC news announcer tell me that Mr Jack Jones had just addressed a rally of old age pensioners in driving rain in that Sparta of the North. Nor do I expect the Political climate to be much of an improvement on the physical when either Labour or the Tories gather together at the seaside. The leadership of either party is never very keen on conferences anyway, if only because they are felt to be a bore — I remember once asking Mr. Reginald Maudling Whether he was enjoying himself at Blackpool, and this after he had made a notably successful speech, and he looked at me Witheringly and replied, "When has anyone ever enjoyed a conference?" — and this year I should think that either Mr Heath or Mr Wilson would cheerfully see large numbers of their followers march down Blackpool pier after some piper and jump in at the end; for both gatherings are-bound to be worried and acrimonious.
As it happens, I like conferences once I am sira. Although they have grown far too big
in recent years — their size, incidentally, is one of the 'reasons why they can no longer take place in the delightful Brighton — both the Labour and the Tory conference can be expected, in any given year, to have a special
feeling, a special identity, of their own; and an identity, furthermore, that can change with disconcerting abruptness. I remember, for example, the Tories arriving at Brighton with the bit between their teeth in 1969. During the conference an opinion poll appeared suggesting a recovery in Labour's fortunes. A pall of gloom immediately descended: you could feel — almost touch — the atmosphere of frustration and near desperation at the thought that Wily Willy Wilson was going to get away With it again. Every conference worth its salt has, too, at least one great moment, one dramatic crisis, which can be anticipated, savoured when it happens, and endlessly debated afterwards. In recent years Mr Powell has been the usual instigator of such occasions when the Tories get together — last Year in his unlikely guise as President of the Hackney and Shoreditch Conservative Association. And Mr Wilson almost inevitably Provides Labour with their high drama — as Well as, of course, With a renewed diet of that endless speculation about the current state of his health, capacity, and intentions which provide the political connoisseurs with most of their material for conversation. However — are the conferences any use? It is not an easy question to answer. A big conference reputation is sometimes held to advance a political career; and it is often said of Mr Maudling that his ambitions were frustrated because he could never set the party faithful alight at seaside towns. But then, neither could Mr Heath; and the great conference orators of recent Tory times, Mr Macleod and Lord Hailsham (who returns this Year, incidentally, in the guise of Conservative Political Centre guest lecturer) have not gained very mucb from their rhetorical fireworks. Lord Butler, it is usually agreed, did irreparable harm to his chances of becoming leader of the Conservative Party by his lacklustre performance as Mr Macmillan's standin in 1963: but that was partly because it was in such marked contrast to the success ;of the then Lord Home; and Lord Home's success was in part the result or an incredible and spontaneous demonstration of affection for him from the floor. (It is worth remembering, when all the talk about magic circles and suchlike is about to be revived by the publication of the final volume of Mr Macmillan's memoirs that, had the Tory leadership crisis of 1963 been settled by conference vote, rather than in London the following week, Sir Alec would have romped home ahead of all other contenders). It is very difficult to say, therefore, that conference successes or failures markedly handicap or advance individual political careers; nor, it seems, do they decide policy — though whether or not they should do will again be the subject of bitter disputation at this year's Labour get-together.
Conferences can, however, provide very satisfactory drama. Conference speeches are a very special political art-form, and provide perhaps the only occasions nowadays on which all the techniques of political oratory can be deployed. Since British political oratory is a very fine thing in itself, we should therefore be grateful for the conferences which provide its setting, and keep the technique alive, just as Test matches keep the techniques of batsmanship alive at a time when one-day matches are destroying them. Further, the brief ,spell of publicity in which conferences take place can do untold good or ill to a party's image. Labour's annual shenanigans, in which Mr Wilson fights for the life of fairly moderate policies against the wild-eyed proponents of socialism purple with rage at the prospect of renewed betrayal by its leaders, fuel the Tory propaganda machine for months after, and allow sage leader writers who do not want to have to think too hard about what is really in the Labour shop window the opportunity to denounce the irresponsibility and unreality of the left-wing party — just as the massed ranks of Tory hats allow other leader writers to re-fuel prejudices against the right-wing party which are social in character and have nothing to do with policies. Conferences and conference results are, therefore, there to be exploited by those who have a mind to do so.
The main thing that will, 1 fancy, distinguish the Tories from Labour this year is that Tory delegates will be pre-occupied with national issues (even if their concern really is that national policies should not damage the party's prospects in the next general election) while Labour will again, and viscerally, be preoccupied with itself. All the Labour debates will merely reveal aspects of the grand debate — who runs the party, and who ought to make policy? Since Mr Wilson's announcement of his determination to veto any policy proposals of the National Executive which he did not like, this argument has been given a new fillip; and such is the stupidity of Labour delegates in public relations terms that we can fully expect to see various of them tell the serried ranks of the comradel what they want to hear — that they, assembled together, are the source of all political wisdom and that everything and then a bit more should be nationalised.
A very deep and anxious concern will, by contrast, mark Tory debates on Europe and on the economy. Which will provide most fiery action rather depends on what Mr Powell does. He is rushing out another short book on Europe and the tactics of re-negotiation of the Brussels treaty, and this indicates that Europe is the issue to which he will devote the five minutes he is allowed. But the essence of Mr Powell's conference technique is surprise; and he may well have something up his sleeve which will be revealed only on the day. One who groans at the prospect of Mr Powell rising on Europe is Sir Alec Douglas-Home who, if that happened, would again be required to put the pieces together in his fatherly manner at the end. Whatever Mr Powell does he is sure of a thunderous reception. But he must also consider that this is perhaps his most important conference speech yet. On every earlier occasion since 1968 he has had some definable issue to exploit on which he could be pretty sure that the bulk of the conference felt very deeply against the leadership. This time it is uncertain quite what they feel, and to what extent they will be encouraged by the grith prospect of a general election _to-rally behind Mr Heath: it could be the most interesting Tory conference for years.
The conference season begins this week with the TUC, and they are followed by the Liberals on September 18. Despite their recent revival, the Liberals have too little form yet for an assessment of their prospects for providing drama to be made. With the TUC they are still to be considered as providers of an overture to the two big ones, of starting that gush of adrenalin through the political bloodstream which shakes off the snake's skin of the summer before parliament re-opens in October. With, this week, a TUC disavowal of incomes policy; with the Liberals preparing for further adventures; with Labour striving to avoid another war, and with the Tories
(probably led by a reshuffled Cabinet) looking with, horror on inflation and Europe, and with
all the other problems forming the backdrop to the political display of the conferences, it promises to be an exciting new season.
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