The Path to Power

been easier for all concerned. The rest was musical chairs. Patrick Jenkin I moved sideways to Social Services, replacing Norman Fowler who became Transport spokesman outside the Shadow Cabinet. Francis Pym returned after his illness to Agriculture.

In the remodelled Shadow Cabinet we faced three major strategic problems. The first, already mentioned, was the question, repeated mantra-like by the commentators, ‘How will you get on with the trade unions if you form a government?’ We urgently had to come up with a convincing answer because, as 1976 wore on, there seemed an increasing possibility of the Labour Government collapsing.

Our problem was made worse because we could not rely on many of the large industrialists prominent in the CBI, whose nerve had been badly shaken by the three-day week and the Heath Government’s fall. Keith, Geoffrey, Jim and I met the CBI leaders in January 1976. We heard an extraordinary tale. CBI members would apparently be ‘horrified’ if we did not support the Government’s incomes policy. They themselves were committed to supporting a second and possibly a third year of it. They did not like dividend controls and they were desperate to break free of price controls. This was all well and good. But it was obvious that they were not being entirely candid either with me or with themselves. Not only were their nerves shaken; in their demoralized state, they were positively attracted to wage controls — and indeed to the entire corporatist paraphernalia of the ‘little neddys’ (the NEDC sector working parties). These men were managers who had lost all hope of the possibility of ever really managing their companies again.

I could not go along with such defeatism. Still, I was convinced by Jim Prior’s arguments that we had to show that we could, if we formed the government, achieve some sort of working relationship with the unions. I took up the theme in a speech in early February to the Young Conservatives in Scarborough, noting that ‘the bigger majority we have, the more it would be obvious that many members of trade unions have voted Conservative’. It would therefore ‘not be difficult to work with responsible trade union leadership’. Admittedly, this did not get us very far.

The following Friday, 13 February, we held an all-day Shadow Cabinet discussion, much of which was based on a paper by Jim Prior. This urged us both to show the electorate that the TUC was being consulted in the formation of our policies, and to show the TUC that those policies would bring prosperity and jobs. But could this be achieved without sacrificing necessary reforms? I had my doubts, but I kept stressing that we were both willing and able to get on with the trade unions, using interviews and speeches in February to do so. This caused some rumbles of discontent among my supporters on the right. But it was not their opposition which finally scuttled this approach, but the failure of the TUC to respond in any meaningful way. A year after Jim’s paper, in 1977, I met the leaders of the TUC privately for informal talks. The meeting itself was amicable enough, but not surprisingly there was no real meeting of minds. In any case, the Grunwick dispute and the controversy over the closed shop had by then begun to cast clouds over our relations.[39] Whatever the tactical benefits of the ‘opening’ to the trade unions in which Jim believed, it bore no worthwhile fruit. And when the Winter of Discontent came along in 1978/79, our bad relations with the TUC were a positive advantage.

Our second problem was how to use to best effect the steady shrinkage and final disappearance in April 1976 of the Government’s original majority of three over all other parties combined. This was obviously a help to the Opposition, but it contained hidden difficulties. The press were inclined to exaggerate our chances of actually defeating a Government which, after all, still had a considerable margin of votes over the Conservatives. So when some measure squeaked through, our supporters in the country became depressed and resentful and looked for someone to blame.

More important, our occasional victories did not seem to lead anywhere. The Government remained insecurely in place. On Wednesday 11 February (on the first anniversary of my becoming Leader) we won a division on a motion to reduce the Industry Secretary Eric Varley’s salary by ?1,000 — a formal means of expressing rejection of policies. Then, in the midst of the sterling crisis of March 1976, the Government was defeated as a result of a left-wing revolt on a vote on its public expenditure plans. And, as one does on these occasions, I demanded that the Prime Minister should resign. I never imagined that he would. But the following Tuesday Harold Wilson did just that, letting me know of his decision in a note I received just before the announcement was made.

I can say little in favour of either of Harold Wilson’s terms as Prime Minister. Doubtless he had principles, but they were so obscured by artful dodging that it was difficult for friends and opponents alike to decide what they might be. Yet I regretted his departure for several reasons. I had always liked him personally, I had appreciated his sense of humour, and I was aware of his many kindnesses. He was a master of Commons repartee, and I usually scored nothing better than a draw against him in the House.

This would continue to be the case with his successor, Jim Callaghan. He adopted in the House a manner that appeared avuncular, was in fact patronizing and made it hard for me to advance serious criticism of Government policy without appearing to nag. In a larger sense, Mr Callaghan in those years was a sort of moderate disguise for his left-wing party and its trade union backers. As a result, he articulated views and attitudes — on education, family policy, law and order etc. — which were never embodied in government policy. Tactically brilliant, he was strategically unsuccessful — until eventually in the Winter of Discontent the entire house of cards that was Labour moderation collapsed. Until then, however, he proved extremely talented as a party manager; he had a real feel for public opinion during the three years he was Prime Minister; and under the pressure of economic crisis, he made a brave public break with the Keynesian economics that had underpinned Government policy since the war. He was a formidable opponent.

Within weeks of Jim Callaghan’s becoming Prime Minister, relations between Government and Opposition chilled to freezing point as a result of Labour chicanery on a Bill nationalizing the aircraft and shipbuilding industries. After a long campaign by one of our backbenchers, Robin Maxwell-Hyslop, the Speaker had finally ruled that the Bill was ‘hybrid’ and so subject to special (and time-consuming) Commons procedures. Labour announced that they would ask the House to set aside the relevant Standing Orders, effectively nullifying the Speaker’s ruling. This was bad enough, but there was more to come. That night several MPs on each side were unwell and were paired. It so happened that Labour had one more sick MP than we had, and he was absent unpaired. There were two divisions that evening, the second following immediately after the first. The first was tied. By precedent the Speaker cast his vote for the status quo and the Government lost. But this revealed to the Government Whips that they were one vote short for the next — and crucial — division. So they went out and found a Labour MP who was paired — that is he had agreed with a Tory MP that neither of them would vote that night. They pushed him into the Labour lobby, as a result of which the Government won by a single vote.

Since the Labour Party had in fact lost its majority, the temptation to do this sort of thing was obviously great. But to nationalize two great industries by a single vote, breaking agreements into the bargain, was completely unacceptable. Tempers ran high on both sides. Michael Heseltine, our Industry spokesman who had led for the Opposition in the debate and felt personally affronted, grabbed the Mace and tried to present it to the Labour benches to symbolize their breach of the conventions.[40] This in itself was a grave offence to the order of the House, as Michael recognized as soon as he was calmed down by Jim Prior.

Less dramatically, I called off all pairing arrangements and withdrew cooperation over Commons business, demanding that the Government hold the division again. This was designed to cause the Government maximum difficulty: not only did all their MPs — however eminent — have to turn up for important divisions, but the Government could not know how long to allow for its business, much of which passes by agreement with the Opposition. Government business slowed down to a snail’s pace. This continued for almost a month until Mr Callaghan asked to see me and said somewhat huffily that we could not go on in this way. I told him that I could. In the end we agreed that the Government and Opposition Chief Whips should investigate what had happened, and when their report showed that we were in the right the Prime Minister conceded a second division on the disputed question. The Labour whips made certain that all their Members were present that night and accordingly won.

Against this background of ill-feeling, we decided to propose a Motion of No Confidence in the Government. Had we not done so, we would have been accused of failing to press home the attack on a Government which was resorting to chicanery because it had lost its majority. But the other side of the coin was that we would be made to look foolish if we failed, as we were very likely to do because the minority parties feared an early general election