Road to Ruin’: ‘Mrs Margaret Thatcher, the pretty blonde MP for Finchley, got a standing ovation for one of those magnificent fire-in-the-belly speeches which are heard too seldom.’7
In 1967 she paid her first visit to the United States. It was a revelation to her. In her forty-two years she had scarcely been out of Britain before, apart from her honeymoon and, since 1962, her annual skiing holiday. Ever since the war she had been well disposed towards America as the arsenal of democracy and Britain’s great English-speaking ally in the cause of Freedom. But the potential love affair had not been consummated until now. In the spring of 1967 she went on an American government ‘leadership programme’ designed to show rising young British politicians the American way of life; for six weeks she was whisked all round the country. ‘The excitement which I felt’, she wrote in her memoirs, ‘has never really subsided. At each stopover I was met and accommodated by friendly, open, generous people who took me into their homes and lives and showed me their cities and townships with evident pride.’ Her theoretical awareness of the ‘brain drain’ was brought into focus by meeting a former constituent from Finchley who had fled ‘overregulated, high-taxed Britain’ to become a space scientist with NASA.8 Two years later she went back for a four-week speaking tour under the auspices of the English Speaking Union. Henceforth America became for her the model of an enterprise economy and a free society: not only American business practice, but American private health care, American penal policy and American business sponsorship of the arts were the examples she encouraged her ministers to study in the eighties.
Shadow Cabinet
After eighteen months working with Macleod she got her reward in October 1967. By her performances in the House, Mrs Thatcher had certainly earned promotion to the Shadow Cabinet; but still she only gained it when she did because Mervyn Pike stepped down on grounds of health. She now had no rival as the statutory woman. Significantly, however, Heath did not simply give her Miss Pike’s social services portfolio – which would have been a traditionally feminine responsibility. Instead he set her to shadow the Ministry of Power, an unmistakably masculine brief comprising coal, nuclear energy, electricity and North Sea gas. More important than the portfolio, however, admission to the Shadow Cabinet marked Mrs Thatcher’s arrival at the top table, just eight years after entering Parliament. As Whitelaw had foreseen, she would not easily be got rid of now. In less than another eight years, in fact, she had toppled Heath and leapfrogged over Whitelaw to seize the leadership.
In her memoirs Lady Thatcher wrote that she felt marginalised as a member of Heath’s Shadow Cabinet. ‘For Ted and perhaps others I was principally there as the “statutory woman” whose main task was to explain what “women”… were likely to think and want on troublesome issues.’9 It is clear that she no longer felt – as she had done as Treasury spokesman – part of a team. If initially she talked too much she soon learned to keep quiet and bide her time.
Meanwhile, shadowing Power gave her the chance to master another important area of policy. Interviewed by the
Shadowing Power, in fact, was all about the nationalised industries. Every speech that Mrs Thatcher made during the year that she held this portfolio – and the following year when she was switched to Transport – shows her developing ever more clearly the conviction that public ownership was economically, politically and morally wrong. Though she never cited him, all the signs are that she had been reading – or rereading – Hayek, whose two-volume elaboration of
In 1968 she was invited to give the annual Conservative Political Centre (CPC) lecture at the party conference in Blackpool. This was a considerable honour: previous lecturers had been recognised party thinkers. Mrs Thatcher, the
The Tory party was in a considerable ferment in the summer of 1968, as grass-roots loathing of the Government combined with mounting criticism of Heath’s leadership to fuel demand for a sharper, more distinctive Conservatism. Mrs Thatcher’s lecture did dimly reflect this rising tide. Instead of nailing her colours boldly to the mast, however, she offered an uncharacteristically woolly, largely conventional Tory critique of the growth of government. Concern about the size, complexity and facelessness of modern government was a commonplace right across the political spectrum in the sixties. The New Left warned of ‘alienation’ and demanded more ‘participation’. The right blamed socialism and talked vaguely of ‘getting government off people’s backs’ and ‘rolling back’ the state. Mrs Thatcher’s CPC lecture was just another Shadow Cabinet expression of this line – padded with some oddly naive banalities and altogether much less strikingly expressed than many of her Commons speeches. Such press coverage as the lecture received was typified by the
The fact is that it would have been imprudent for an ambitious young frontbencher, only recently appointed to the Shadow Cabinet, to have come out openly as a Powellite in October 1968. Only six months earlier Enoch Powell had been sacked from the Shadow Cabinet for making his notorious ‘River Tiber’ speech calling for a halt to coloured immigration and the assisted repatriation of immigrants. This speech transformed him overnight from a cranky economic theorist into a national figure with a huge popular following, a hate figure to the left and a looming challenge to Heath’s leadership. Mrs Thatcher was never close to Powell in the few months they sat together in the Shadow Cabinet: Powell was an explicitly masculine politician who frankly deplored the intrusion of women into politics. But she was becoming increasingly interested in his economic ideas; she also ‘strongly sympathised’ with his argument about immigration. She regretted that Powell’s new notoriety henceforth overshadowed his economic agenda, allowing opponents to tar free-market thinking with the same brush as either right-wing extremism or crackpot nostalgia, or both at once.13
That autumn, in the run-up to the party conference – just when she was writing her lecture – Heath had made a speech in Scotland firmly repudiating those Tories who were attracted by the seductive Powellite prescription of rolling back the state. ‘That’, he declared, ‘though a century out of date, would certainly be a distinctive, different policy.’
But it would not be a Conservative policy and it would not provide a Conservative alternative. For better or worse the central Government is already responsible, in some way or another, for nearly half the activities of Britain. It is by far the biggest spender and the biggest employer.14
That was precisely what Powell, the IEA and, in her heart, Mrs Thatcher, wanted to reverse. Most practical Conservatives, however, though they might pay lip service to the idea of some marginal denationalisation, took it for granted that a large public sector was a fact of life.
It was in the context of this overwhelming orthodoxy that Mrs Thatcher spoke at Blackpool. The most significant section of her lecture was its ending, an unfashionable defence of party politics, rejecting the widespread hankering for ‘consensus’. ‘We have not yet appreciated or used fully’, she suggested, ‘the virtues of our party political system.’ The essential characteristic of the British system was the concept of the Opposition, which ensured not just an alternative leader but ‘an alternative policy and a whole alternative government ready to take office’. Consensus she dismissed as merely ‘an attempt to satisfy people holding no particular views about
