The Path to Power

substantial lead of probably 10 per cent. This meant that we might hope to win without the risks of a televised confrontation. And those risks were certainly large. I might make a mistake which it would be hard to obliterate. Jim Callaghan was usually a polished performer on television and he would certainly have no hesitation in using his authority and experience to patronize me. The fact that in the early tentative discussions we learned that he would wish to have the first debate on foreign affairs, where he would be able to deploy all those strengths, caused me to reconsider my earlier enthusiasm.

Moreover, the Liberals were to be offered a quid pro quo: a long interview with David Steel on the Friday before polling day. My advisers and I were in full agreement that the most serious danger to us would be a last-minute upsurge of Liberal support — all the easier to imagine since they had just taken the Liverpool Edgehill seat from Labour at a by-election and were busily seeking, as Liberals always do, to exaggerate the ‘momentum’ this had given them. I had no wish to give the Liberal Leader any more political exposure than necessary.

So I was persuaded to turn down the invitation to debate. It was not worth the risks. In any case, as I wrote in my published reply to ITV’s invitation: ‘Personally, I believe that issues and policies decide elections, not personalities. We should stick to that approach. We are not electing a president, we are choosing a government.’ It was the right decision and the criticism it provoked in some quarters quickly dissipated.

The other tactical question concerned the morning press conferences. Gordon Reece would have liked to dispense with these altogether. In terms of media impact, he was right. Very rarely did anything which happened at the press conference — other perhaps than egregious slip-ups, which were thankfully absent during this campaign — make its way into the day’s main news. But the morning press conference does provide the press with opportunities to ask awkward questions, and this in turn provides an opportunity for politicians to show what they are made of. The morning press conferences are therefore an opportunity to win the respect of seasoned journalists whose judgement will influence the coverage they give throughout the campaign.

A further complication on this occasion was that neither we nor the Labour Party were prepared to surrender the convenient 9.30 a.m. slot to the other. Consequently, our press conference in Central Office was held at the same time as Labour’s in Transport House across the square. A posse of journalists would arrive in the already overcrowded and overheated Central Office conference room to ask questions on the basis of allegations and attacks made by Jim Callaghan, Denis Healey or Shirley Williams at the beginning of the Labour press conference. A final element of chaos was contributed by the new ‘ENG’ (‘electronic news-gathering’) cameras. Though ridiculously unwieldy by present-day standards, they greatly increased the flexibility and extent of television coverage. But the number of cameramen also increased. And the shoulder-held television cameras with their trailing cables both at Central Office and at locations along the route of my tour were a constant threat to life and limb.

For some reason, the Conservative Party always starts campaigning later and builds up more slowly than the Labour Party. Labour on this occasion, however, had an even freer run than usual between the Dissolution and the launch of our manifesto on Wednesday 11 April — largely because the political colleagues to whom I left the public appearances and statements were not very effective. This was, indeed, a difficulty throughout the campaign. With the exception of Michael Heseltine, always relishing a headline, they seemed to behave more like ministers-in-waiting than politicians — which meant, of course, that they risked waiting a good deal longer than they expected. It also ensured that even more of the focus was on me, which even I felt was a mixed blessing. In all campaigns there should ideally be a balance of tones and personalities.

Labour used this period to some effect in order to begin attacking policies which we had not yet published. But the trade union leaders managed, before they were muzzled by Labour Party managers, to play into our hands by adopting tones reminiscent of the Winter of Discontent. Sid Weighell, leader of the National Union of Railwaymen, threatened that with free collective bargaining and a Conservative Government, he would ‘say to the lads, come on, get your snouts into the trough’. Bill Keays, leader of the print union SOGAT, promised ‘confrontation’ if the country was ‘foolish enough to elect the Tory Party’. David Basnett, leader of the General and Municipal Workers, also predicted industrial conflict. It was the same old tune which had played well for Labour in the past, but which was out of harmony with what voters were now prepared to tolerate.

Nor had I been entirely silent. On Thursday 5 April I had addressed the candidates (including Conservative MPs standing for re-election) at a meeting at Central Hall, Westminster. This was not my — or probably anyone else’s — favourite place for a public meeting, since it was then rather drab and characterless. There was a special difficulty this year because the candidates expected to hear from me the main themes of a manifesto which was still unpublished. I had to give them some idea of what was coming without revealing the details. So I concentrated heavily on income tax cuts to give greater incentives for wealth-creation and on the need for trade union reform. An audience composed entirely of speakers is not the easiest to address. But their enthusiasm confirmed my instinct that we had chosen the right battleground.

THE FIRST WEEK — D–21 to D–14

On Wednesday 11 April the manifesto itself was launched at the first Conservative press conference which I chaired, joined by Willie Whitelaw, Keith Joseph, Geoffrey Howe, Peter Carrington, Jim Prior, Humphrey Atkins, Peter Thorneycroft and Angus Maude. The manifesto’s tone was modest and practical and Chris Patten and Angus Maude had dressed our ideas in language which was simple and jargon-free.[60]

It went down well in the following day’s press. But the heat at the hugely overcrowded press conference itself was almost unbearable. And my perspiring male colleagues clad in their thick worsted suits suffered worse than I did.

The following day was Maundy Thursday. Because Easter fell during the campaign, four days of electioneering were lost. So my first day of serious campaigning was on Monday 16 April — what in the election agents’ jargon was D–17. (‘D-day’ of course was polling day itself.) We had decided to begin in Wales. Having flown down from Gatwick, I met the election battle bus at Swansea Airport, visited an NHS hospital and went on to the local Conservative Club, where I was to give regional television and radio interviews. I was aware of a fair amount of background noise at the club. But I only learned afterwards that a huge row, which finished up with fisticuffs, had arisen when the club authorities had tried to keep women reporters out of those rooms reserved for male members only.

Then I went on to Cardiff for the first of the major rallies of the campaign. It was an appropriate place to start. This was very much the heart of enemy territory since Mr Callaghan’s constituency was Cardiff South East. So it was a good thing that Cardiff City Hall had a pleasant feel, the right acoustics and an enthusiastic audience. I also had an extremely powerful speech to deliver. It was an uncompromising statement of how socialism had debilitated Britain and of the need for a fundamental change of direction — though not towards some experiment with Utopia but rather back to principles from which we had mistakenly departed.

…In politics, I’ve learned something you in Wales are born knowing: if you’ve got a message, preach it. I am a conviction politician. The Old Testament prophets didn’t merely say: ‘Brothers, I want consensus.’ They said: ‘This is my faith and vision. This is what I passionately believe. If you believe it too, then come with me.’ Tonight I say to you just that. Away with the recent bleak and dismal past. Away with defeatism. Under the twin banners, choice and freedom, a new and exciting future beckons the British people.

The audience loved it and so did I. But my cunning adversary, Jim Callaghan, successfully used it to awaken all of the old fears in the Tory Party establishment about the unnerving figure leading them in an uncomfortable, unfamiliar direction. The Prime Minister subsequently claimed that in my speech I had moved the Conservative Party to the right and that this opened the centre ground for him. Appropriately enough, the main speaker at the Conservative press conference that morning was Reg Prentice, former Labour Cabinet minister and now Conservative Party candidate, who with other ‘converts’ from socialism was living proof that it was Labour which had shifted leftwards. But in any case I agreed with Keith Joseph that it was the ‘common ground’, not the ‘middle ground’, on which we must stake our case. From now on a gap opened up between the way in which