Western Europe

Western Europe Great Britain Domestic Affairs A HE YEAR 1970 will certainly be remembered—whatever else his- tory may subsequently add—as "the year of the counter-revolution," resulting from the unforeseen Conservative victory in the general election of June 18. When Parliament dissolved on May 29, Prime Minister Harold Wilson and the Labour party then had a majority of 65 seats in the Commons, but was much eroded by by-election losses. On June 19 Edward Heath was prime minister, with an over-all majority of 31 seats and an effective majority of 29. The Conservatives had made a net gain of 66 seats and Labour had suffered 60 losses. This overturn was so unexpected that The Guardian headlined its lead article of June 19: "Mr. Heath does a Truman." Virtually no commentator or opinion poll had predicted this outcome. The dominant tone of comment was to deplore the low intellectual level of the debate between the two dominant parties. The debate had become an adjunct to television, rather than the reverse, it was said. Be that as it may, less argu- able was the equally general comment that no serious issue divided the parties. The two comments were perhaps related. As for the latter comment, it was certainly true that both parties were at one on policy regarding the European Common Market, that they tacitly agreed not to discuss the problem of rapidly rising wages, and that such issues of contention as did exist—the maintenance of a small force east of Suez, agricultural policy, the degree of state intervention in industry, even trade union reform—all failed to arouse the public. Why did Labour, in the face of all predictions, lose? No consensus of opinion has emerged. Wilson certainly chose the election date fortified by indisputable evidence of recovery in Labour popularity. But his own campaign, with its insistence on attacking the Tories, did not sufficiently exploit this positive factor. Heath, on the other hand, although he also stressed the negative aspect of Labour's rule, e.g. rising prices, high taxation, and wage inflation, was able to identify actual, not merely possible, evils. The fact is that in the years and months before the election the Labour government had tacitly admitted much in Heath's arguments. Thus it had accepted working- 314 GREAT BRITAIN / 315 class resentment against high direct taxation; reduced commitments in public spending and reimposed health-service charges that it had come in to abolish, and postponed extending compulsory education. When the general election came, the Labour party was thus compromised in a wide range of issues— to say nothing of its retreat in the face of trade union opposition to its policy of limiting the opportunities for unofficial strikes. Even the government's undoubted success in strengthening the balance of overseas payments was susceptible to a last-minute Conservative scare. No great difference divided the major parties on Middle East policy. But Heath struck an unusual note in his remark that Europe might speak with a united voice on Middle East problems, and that British troops in the Persian Gulf would help maintain a stability in the interests of the Middle East as a whole. Race played a part in the campaign, but only fleetingly and with an impact impossible to identify and ascertain. The National Front (AJYB, 1967 [Vol. 68], p. 306) polled only 11,449 votes in the ten constituencies it contested. Its percentage of the poll varied from 1.9 per cent (Cardiff South East) to 5.5 per cent (Islington North). Sir Oswald Mosley's Union Movement had no candidates in the election. At the national level, race became an issue just a fortnight before election day when Wedgwood Benn, then minister of technology, declared: "The flag of racialism which has been hoisted in Wolverhampton is beginning to look like the one which fluttered 25 years ago over Dachau and Belsen." Enoch Powell, Conservative party candidate who was up for reelection (AJYB, 1969 [Vol. 70], pp. 318, 326) made no direct reply; but two of his own speeches, a fortnight later, whether by accident or design, went some way to substantiate Benn's otherwise wild remark. In the first of the two speeches, Powell predicted that the prospective growth of commonwealth immigration and immigrant-descended population "will result in civil strife of appalling dimensions." In the second, he described the "danger from within" which he identified not only with immigration but also with student and mob demonstrations and the civil rights movement in Ulster. None of this seemed in any way explicitly to involve the Jewish position. Similarly, as far as can be ascertained, the fate of no Jewish candidate of either party was thereby directly affected. Eighty-four Jewish candidates stood for election, 47 Labour, 21 Conservative, 13 Liberal, 2 Communist, 1 Independent. Of these, 40 were elected, thus equalling the 1966 tally. But in 1970 there was a very significant difference in party allegiance. There now were 9 Conservative M.P.'s, as compared with 2 previously, and only 31 Labour M.P.'s, as compared with 38 previously. All the evidence showed that Jewish candidates shared the fate of their party colleagues, with the possible exception of Mrs. Renee Short (Wolverhampton North East) who may have been affected by the backlash from Powell's neighboring consti- tuency and the presence of a National Front candidate who secured 4.6 per cent of the total poll. The only Jew in Heath's new Conservative government 316 / AMERICAN JEWISH YEAR BOOK, 1971 was the 56-year-old Sir Keith Joseph, secretary of state for social services and member of the cabinet. Economy On the day following the election, The Financial Times declared: "Mr. Heath is something of a radical, but it is very doubtful whether the country realises just what that means; and if it had, it might not have elected him." While the second half of this statement remained matter for conjecture, the truth of the first half became more and more apparent throughout the second half of 1970. Indeed, Heath told the Conservative party conference in October that he came into power committed to "a quiet and total revolution." By this he meant a reassertion of British interests abroad; at home, government would withdraw from those areas of life where people could fend for themselves. He would limit public expenditure and reduce taxation. Efficiency would be rewarded, and the inefficient would suffer. He would combine all this with compassion for the minority unable to help itself. The implementation of this general outlook suffered a serious setback through the sudden death, in July, of the new Chancellor of the Exchequer Ian Macleod. Even so, given Heath's declared intention of "less government," it was not really surprising that not until the end of October did the precise shape of Conservative economic policy become clear. It did so under the aegis of Anthony Barber, who succeeded Macleod. Broadly speaking, cuts were made in government spending for defense, social services, and housing subsidies and spending by nationalized industries. This will make possible cuts of 2.5 new pence in the standard rate of income tax and a reduction of 2.5 per cent in corporation tax, to 42.5 per cent. The over-all effect on the economy was expected to be neutral. But this by no means applied to the politics of the country. The "mini- budget," it would seem, inaugurated a counterrevolution. Whereas all postwar governments, Labour and Conservative, had hitherto shared much common ground, except in regard to the nationalization of basic industries, this was by no means true of the Heath regime. It did not accept the prevailing attitude that the removal of injustice and inequality was the primary task of a British government in the 20th century. It preferred to follow a path more in keeping with the tradition of laissez-faire. It was in this light that labor and trade- union opposition to the government's projected Industrial Relations Bill had to be assessed. This bill, though not markedly different from that adumbrated by the Labour government, has aroused intense hostility. The condition of a divided nation must also be the framework within which to evaluate the strike movement of 1970. This was by far the worst year ever. A record total of 3,500 stoppages took place, costing nearly ten million working days, more than in any year since the 1926 general strike. The worst affected industries were motor vehicle, electric power (by a "work to rule"), dockers, council workers, and coal miners. GREAT BRITAIN / 317 Some 2,250 of the strikes were connected with demands for higher wages. As a result, weekly earnings have been rising twice as fast as prices, which themselves have been rising twice as fast as the average in the past ten years. By autumn, weekly earnings were about 13 per cent above the 1969 level. On the other hand, this has not brought with it certain of the normal symptoms of an inflationary society: demand has been kept in check, growth remained at an annual rate of about 3 per cent, and the unemployment figures have set fresh postwar records with each passing month. By December 620,000, or 2.7 per cent of the labor force, were unemployed. The explana- tion of the paradox of inflated earnings coupled with a comparatively stagnant economy probably was psychological: the very fear and expectation of falling money values spurred on inflation. The change of government may well have contributed to this situation. The collapse of Labour's industrial legislation and the end of Labour's price and income policies certainly released a projected and an actual barrier to wage inflation.

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