Conservative Party: Profit before human need (1963)

From the November 1963 issue of the Socialist Standard

The Conservatives have been in power for twelve years now. Somehow they have managed to create the impression that they are the party of prosperity. A condition for this prosperity, we are told, is national unity. The Conservative Party accordingly claims to stand for the interests of the nation as a whole and calls upon all to rally behind them. Business efficiency and social reform will bring about “One Nation at home”—indeed, it is already supposed to have done this.

But is this true? Is there a classless democracy in Britain today? Can we sensibly talk of “the nation” as a whole? Consider the facts. The economic editor of one of the well-known Sunday newspapers who is certainly not a Socialist has written of “the fantastically unequal distribution of wealth” and has estimated that nearly one-half of the total personal wealth in this country is owned by 2 per cent. of the adult population. This inequality of ownership is at the heart of the capitalist system. The propertied minority who own all the means of living (land, factories, railways, etc.) live off the unpaid labour of the majority, the working class. This is not an old-fashioned dogma. It is a fact—one which the Conservatives are extremely anxious to gloss over with their talk of “national unity” and “One Nation.” This is because the Conservative Party is a party of the owners, of the propertied minority who live off the workers. They thus represent the interests of the class to whose interests those of the working class are diametrically opposed.

The Conservative Party also likes to portray itself as the party of the so-called little man, the small farmer, the small shopkeeper and the homeowner. They talk of property-owning and share-owning democracies. Today this claim is challenged by the Liberal Party and with some success as by-election results have shown. More than ever before, the Conservative Party is a party of Big Business, of the giant combines and semi-monopolies. The so-called Beeching Doctrine (the doctrine of efficiency) has become party policy. This policy has been well described by Enoch Powell, the late Minister of Health.

“Does it pay? is the question which, quite unashamedly, we have to ask today of all our economic and commercial doings. Does this railway line pay—that coal-mine, this shipping route? Does that industry in that place pay?” (The Observer, 13/5/62).

However, as the Times explained almost a year later, the adoption of such a policy is bound, sooner or later, to affect the little man:

“Sooner or later, for instance, even Conservative leaders are going to be driven away from agricultural policies that they certainly know are designed to preserve small, under-capitalized farming units which impair rather than encourage efficiency. They will also one day be driven to act, as they would long ago have liked to act, to get rid of price resale arrangements to which thousands of small local shopkeepers cling for protection."

The triumph of the Big Business elements within the Conservative Party may or may not drive the so-called little man into the arms of the Liberals. But one thing is certain. The workers have nothing to gain by supporting drives for efficiency. Capitalism, under which production is only undertaken in accordance with the principle enunciated by Mr. Powell, has nothing to offer them. Nor, therefore, has the Conservative Party, an avowed party of Capitalism and of production for profit.

We can see well the consequences of production for profit. Basic human needs are neglected because it is not profitable to satisfy them. Housing is a good example. It is more profitable to build office blocks, luxury flats and cathedrals than housing for the workers. Again, production is only carried on if what is produced can be sold at a profit. When this is not the case factories lie idle and unemployment appears. Say, for example, that “industry in that place” doesn’t pay? Then it closes down and sacks its workers. Let us take a concrete example. This month the factory of John Webb & Co., brass founders, at Nantyglo in Monmouthshire, is to close down. The valves which the factory produces will in future be made in Birmingham. Explained the company secretary:

“It has been decided that production of water and steam fittings produced by the Delta Metal group of companies must be consolidated to enable them to be fully competitive. A number of steps in this direction were taken at other works in the group earlier this year. Competition has continued to increase both in this country and from Germany, Italy and Japan and the time has now come when our production must be streamlined.” (South Wales Argus, 26/8/63.)

This is what “efficiency” means. To be sure, some of the 200 workers are to be offered jobs in Birmingham. This is what “mobility” means. For in Conservative Party thinking the producers are considered not as people but as productive resources, no different from the machinery and raw materials they use. If a manufacturer finds it more profitable to establish his factory near the coast or to concentrate his production in Birmingham then workers must be prepared to be mobile if they want work. This is everyday experience.

The Conservatives admit that their emphasis on mobility involves hardship for some. They could not very well deny it since this, too, is everyday experience. But, we are assured, these difficulties are necessary evils which we—the workers, not the capitalists, of course—must be prepared to put up with in a “dynamic” economy. And, after all, they are but a small price to pay for “the economy of abundance” which the “proper” allocation of resources brings! This is what efficiency means. For what is efficiency but the ruthless ignoring of human needs to make a profit?

It is difficult to understand how so many of those who suffer most from Capitalism can find reasons to support the Conservative Party which openly proclaims that profit must come before human needs. Clearly the workers have nothing to expect from the Conservatives but what they get—unemployment, bad housing, pay restraint, insecurity and other examples of what the Conservatives call private, family and personal difficulties.

Production for profit, which Mr. Powell praises, does not lead to One Prosperous Nation, but rather to one prosperous capitalist class and to degradation and insecurity for the working class.

Adam Buick

Reflections on images (1961)

From the November 1961 issue of the Socialist Standard

Mr. Gaitskell has been saying it again. This time, it was at a meeting at Blackpool, organised by Socialist Commentary during the last Labour Party Conference. Perhaps the Labour leader was joking. Perhaps he was trying to cheer everybody up. Or perhaps he was serious. Anyway, he said it. He denied that the Tories have the predominant appeal to the electorate and added: “I think the Labour Party at the moment has a tremendous opportunity which I hope it will grasp.”

Now what must have struck the audience was that this is the sort of optimistic statement which political leaders are always putting out and which mean exactly nothing. The Labour Party reckoned that they were full of hopeful expectation just before Eden trounced them in 1955, and again when Macmillan came out on top two years ago. It is, in fact, curious that on one occasion when they did win, and with a thumping majority, there is evidence that they were not particularly optimistic. Mr. Shinwell once said that, although he expected the landslide victory in 1945, most of the other Labour leaders took a gloomier view of their chances. Naturally, nobody expects Mr. Gaitskell to say that he is looking forward to losing the next election and that there isn’t really much point in all this arguing about election programmes because the Conservatives already have it in the bag. When he muses upon the Labour Party’s great opportunities and the success which he says is in their grasp we know that, whether he is right or wrong, he is saying what he is compelled to by the necessities of his situation.

For Mr. Gaitskell must project an image of his party to the electorate Labour are out for power over the affairs of British capitalism and to get this they do not have to educate or enlighten people. They only have to persuade enough voters that they are the cleverest, most responsible, most humane bunch of would be ministers in the land. And, of course, the most successful. Most politicians must be attached to the slogan “Nothing, succeeds like success.” Like the salesman who tells you that his product must be good because it sells so well, the political leader must always strive to give the impression that their fortunes are set fair. It is all part of the business of projecting an image.

It does not end there, as we saw at the last Labour Party Conference. This year’s conference rejected once again the idea that they are a party of wholesale nationalisation. Let us say right away that nationalisation is not, and never was, anything more than an alternative method of organising capitalism. But the Labour pioneers used to cling to it as the cure-all for capitalism’s ailments. We may depend on it that they would have castigated Mr. Gaitskell for his milk and water version of their favourite potion. Yet in doing so they would be ignoring the reasons for the Labour Party going back upon itself. Nationalisation, which might have had a brief fling as a vote-getter just after the war, is now an electoral liability. The theme of Mr. Gaitskell’s great battle over Clause Four was his realisation that the surest way to lose votes was to declare for outright nationalisation. True, Gaitskell lost his battle over the clause. But his party’s attitude to State control has changed and to that extent so has their public image.

We also saw at Blackpool—as we expected to see—the Labour Party break off its short flirtation with the unilateralists. Now that was a vote loser if you like. The nuclear disarmers are a small minority in the population—so small that there is no point, in them testing their policy in a parliamentary election. It seems certain that if the Labour Party were to tie themselves permanently to C.N.D., it would not be long before they were counting their members in thousands instead of the hundreds of, thousands of today. That may not worry a party of rigid principle, but for those who are bothered about getting power before anything else, it is a different matter.

Then there is the little business of strikes and this, sadly for Mr. Gaitskell, is something which cannot be shaken off by a conference resolution. There are a lot of political correspondents who think that the London bus strike in 1958 did more damage to the Labour Party in the 1959 election than anything else. We all know why they are associated in the popular mind with strikers. The Labour Party built itself on a foundation of working class sympathy. At one time their members were proud to be at the head of the Jarrow marchers, to wear cloth caps to the Commons, to be militant trade unionists. Inevitably, strikers looked to the Labour Party for support and strikes became part of the party’s image.

That was all very well in the old days, when Labour were climbing to power; it’s very different now. Firstly, if they get into power over British capitalism, strikes are going to be a nuisance which they will have to deal with, just like 1945/50 all over again. Secondly, large numbers of workers regard strikes as stupid, or anti-social, or the work of layabouts, and so suspect a political party which they connect with them. This notion seems to be stubbornly held. If it were not, surely it would have been squashed by the stern anti-strike measures of the 1945 Labour government? Whatever the evidence, however much Mr. Gaitskell may soothe and reassure, no matter what his party may write in their manifestos, the idea will stay in working class heads. Strikes equal Labour. Labour equals strikes. This is the sort of thing which is so bad for the image which Mr. Gaitskell is trying to project.

For the Labour Party now wants to appear a moderate, adaptable party, ready to manage British capitalism without any complications like political theories. There is only one theory of management that is worth anything to capitalism, and that is that the system is administered in the interests of the capitalist class. Unless the Labour Party can convince enough workers that they conform to that theory they are out, and will stay out.

The Tories have fewer worries on this score. True, they have their wild men— the people described by one Labour Party delegate as “hangers, floggers and let’s-ban-the-woggers.” But there is little political kudos for the Labour Party in this. For many workers, among all their other false ideas, support-capital and corporal punishment and, although they may not practice a colour bar, in fact regard Negroes as inferior beings and would agree to some control on immigration. Here is one of the Conservative’s trump cards. Whatever mistakes they may make, however black their record, they always seem to have enough of what it takes to ride their storms and to touch the responses of the working class. This is ironical, in a party which so openly stands for the privileges and inequalities of capitalism. Perhaps it is the Tories’ empirical attitude which does the trick. Perhaps it is political flair. It could be that they are very clever, or that the working class are excessively stupid and forgetful. Whatever the reason for it, the fact is that the Tory image is a successful one.

The two great parties are not alone in worrying about their public image. Every day, everywhere, we are meeting the same thing. We see it in the advertisements which, since the days of fuller employment came to this country, have adopted an especially irritating image type. Now the earnest, well groomed, rising young executive is the chap who buys the right car, uses the right sort of after-shave and knows which wine will not upset his boss. We meet the image on radio and television, with everybody striving to convince themselves that capitalism’s all right and that what really matters is that, as the girl once said to Wilfred Pickles: “. . . people—are nice—to—people.” This is the theme, too, of the newspapers with their unctuous human interest stories telling us about rock ‘n’ roll stars who still love their deaf grandmothers, or rich greengrocers who would swap it all for the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

Irritating and shameful as this may be, it should lead us to the bigger question of why it should happen at all. The answer is that the image men always project an impression of general satisfaction with capitalism. The people who are depicted as wholesome and confident are, after all, supporters of a social system which has produced the terror and insecurity of the modern world. And if we accept their standards the one thing we shall never do is to question the whys and wherefores of capitalism.

That leads us to an even bigger question. Are we satisfied with the terror and insecurity? Are we satisfied with being treated like mental infants who will be impressed by any vapid image that the politicians or the ad-men like to squirt at us?

The working class could rise above this. They could develop their social consciousness so that the political and commercial images lose their appeal. They could do this—in fact, they must do it, if there is to be hope of solving the world’s problems. But there is no reason for the capitalist class to help in this. No matter; let us leave them with their images. We should be tackling hard, material reality.  

Ivan

Your wages are a problem (1962)

From the August 1962 issue of the Socialist Standard

Do wage increase put up prices?

One of capitalism’s toughest problems is the size of the wage which is paid to the working people who keep the system operating.

Basically, it is a problem of almost mathematical simplicity. The working class produce values which are higher than their wages. They produce a surplus value which goes to their employers. If the workers can force their wages up, there is less of the surplus left for their employers. On the other hand, if the employers can force wages down, more of the surplus will go to them. This must hold good, however the productivity of the worker may be altered by changes in natural conditions or in the intensity of his labour.

It is inevitable that capitalism’s governments should concern themselves in this dispute which, by the way, is known as a “class struggle” by Socialists, who have an uncomfortable habit of calling a capitalist spade a spade. Governments do their governing in the interests of the employing, owning class of capitalism. It is, therefore, equally inevitable that when they concern themselves with the class struggle over wages, governments should take the side of the capitalist class.

Thirty or forty years ago there was no great need for the government’s intervention to be especially vigorous. With capitalism in the doldrums, with never less than one million unemployed in this country, the working class were badly placed to push home any demand for better wages. If they did push any such demands the government had only to stand aside and watch the workers starve themselves onto their knees in a strike or a lock-out.

Since the war, conditions have been rather different. Wage rises must now be restrained by government action and appeals, rather than by the old method of both sides beating their heads together. Sometimes, indeed, conditions have defeated even the appeals and the government itself has surrendered, offering wage increases rather than face a strike. This has happened more than once over the railwaymen, much to the annoyance of newspapers like The Economist, which irritably demands at such times to know whether the government is serious in its desire to stop wages going up.

An essential part of the official campaign on wages has been the thinking up of responsible-sounding excuses for refusing the workers’ demands. These excuses must be epitomised in a snappy name for the refusals. This time last year it was the pay pause which, it seems clear, was designed to hold wages in check for a few months. There are signs that the pause was at least as successful as the government could have hoped. Apart from the rises which were denied to government employees, the engineers themselves forebore to press a wage claim last autumn. The engineering employers have now conceded a three per cent. rise, but in the opinion of at least one newspaper, this would have come earlier but for the pay pause.

Now the “guiding light” on wage increases has replaced the pause, although it is being somewhat buffeted by the arbitration tribunals.

It is safe to forecast that, for those who are willing to do a little research and remembering, the events of capitalism will expose the government’s excuses for what they are. Just after the war, for example, the Attlee government launched a great campaign on wages. There was a propaganda drive to convince everybody that rises were inadmissible because, among other things, Britain’s international balance of payments was in jeopardy. Ministers lost no chance of parading statistics which showed how the British capitalist class were spending more on their imports than they were receiving from their exports. We heard many homely analogies about the difficulties of families which spent more than their income and we were invited to regard ourselves as members of a big, British, capitalist family.

A lot has happened since then. The international trading situation of Britain has varied considerably over the years. Once before—during 1959—the British capitalist class actually had a favourable balance of payments. Now it has happened again. The Treasury has announced that the first quarter of this year yielded a payments surplus in Britain’s international trade of £21 millions. The terms of trade—the ratio of import to export prices—are set fair for British capitalism and have been so for some time. The Chancellor of the Exchequer has suggested that over the year the surplus in payments might come to something like £150 millions.

At the same time another of the difficulties which faced the Labour government has gone, to be replaced by its opposite. There is no longer a desperate need to rush into a gaping wide world market, a market waiting to be filled with any substandard commodities which could be produced fast enough to pump into it. Coal, for example, was one of the big needs of the post war years. But so much has the demand for coal decreased that the National Coal Board has closed many of its pits and intends to close still more.

The dilemma

NCB chairman Lord Robens, speaking at the last annual conference of the National Union of Mineworkers, put his finger on British capitalism’s present dilemma:

“This is not an era of coal at any price—that ended in 1957; we are in the era of hard selling based on price, quality and service, and in this situation the fundamental need is to be able to produce the right produce at the right price.”

Conditions, then, have decidedly changed since the 1945 Labour government and in doing so have wiped out the excuses which were used to justify the wage freeze and the other restrictions of Crippsian austerity. The government itself has changed. But government policy on wage increases remains unaltered. All that has happened is that the old excuses have been replaced by the new. The catch-phrases of the late forties have given way to those of the early sixties. A pay pause may sound different from a wage freeze, but in fact it means almost exactly the same.

In one respect the government has not been caught napping by the changes of the past seventeen years. They have not run out of excuses. Now, we are told that wage rises are inflationary. The argument which goes with this assertion has almost become part of the mystique of modern capitalism.

When wages rise, runs the argument, the costs of production go up and the employers automatically increase their prices to recoup this. Higher prices mean that any unit of currency is able to buy less than before, which means that more currency units are needed to circulate the same amount of commodities. Thus wages are supposed to be going up closely followed by prices which, as they rise, nullify the wage increases and cut the purchasing power of the pound. This, say the pundits, is inflation.

This argument ignores several basic facts of capitalist life. Wages are the price of the commodity labour power and generally will fluctuate in accordance with the state of the labour market. But a market for one commodity can be buoyant at the same time as for another it is depressed. Although the coal mines are having difficulty in selling their product it is still possible for miners to get rises because at the moment most of them could get another job without great difficulty. The prices of many of the commodities which will for ever be associated with the so-called Affluent Society—television sets, refrigerators, washing machines—have tumbled over the past few years. But, as we have seen, the wages of the electricians and the engineers who make these goods have increased.

Karl Marx made the point over a century ago and it is still valid today. Highly paid workers can produce cheap commodities, and vice versa. A wage rise need not, therefore, be followed by a price rise.

The Guardian recently challenged the starting point of the inflation theory. In an editorial published on June 25, they said: This is the same mode of thinking as the one that regards success in enforcing a pay pause as the overriding test of present British economic policy. But in fact labour costs in the United States have risen sharply in periods of falling production and have actually declined in periods of recovery in spite of bigger increases in wages. . . . There is much evidence that the same is true of Britain.

Where, now are the protestations of The Guardian—and of other papers—that wage increases must put up labour costs? Are they buried, along with the other stale excuses? If so, we may be sure that they will return, even if in reincarnation.

Yes, wages are a problem and like most problems they are fertile in paradoxes. Perhaps the biggest paradox of all is that the problem will not be solved by putting wages up, or down, but by getting rid of them altogether.

Ivan

Editorial: What difference is there? (1963)

Editorial from the October 1963 issue of the Socialist Standard

Labour governments aren’t what they used to be. They no-longer send chills of horror down the spines of the rich, the near-rich, and workers with a few pounds in the savings bank. It was not always so.

Forty years ago when, for the first time a Labour government took over in Britain, there was quite a lot of fear and panic in the air, even though Ramsay MacDonald went to great pains to give his cabinet an image of respectability by appointing a number of peers. In particular by making one of them, Lord Chelmsford, who had no Labour Party associations, First Lord of the Admiralty so that those who feared the worst could at least feel that the Navy was not in dangerous hands. That Government lasted for about nine months.

The Norwegian Labour Government which came into office in 1928 was less circumspect about its power to inspire fear. Instead of putting the Navy into the hands of a conservative it announced its intention to disarm altogether and threatened other things horrifying to the propertied class. There was a sharp financial crisis and out they went after a fortnight. After a few years mellowing they were back again, with no panic, and continued in government with hardly a break for twenty eight years; only to resign now after narrowly escaping defeat on a Parliamentary vote of ‘no confidence’.

What is significant about the changeover from a Labour to a Conservative government in Norway is the general comment of political observers that it will make little or no difference. The Guardian’s comment was typical.

“Political observers,” it said, predict that the new government “will make few changes in domestic or foreign policy”. When the Norwegian Labour Party took over in 1928 it promised to put the interests of the workers first and to introduce what it called Socialism. Now the voters in Norway know that capitalism will carry on in much the same way whichever party is in power.

It is the same here. No one with any knowledge of the present political situation thinks that a Labour Party victory at the next election would be followed by drastic social changes. If such a thing were possible it would mean that the differences between the Labour Party and the Conservatives are deep and vital, whereas in fact the publicity men in both organisations have a hard time finding differences that look big enough to fight an election.

As fears of Labour government have receded, there is more scope for conservatives and others to air their views on problems of taxation and government, without being obsessed with their old apprehensions of ruin and revolution. So Mr. Harold Wincott, writing in the Financial Times last July, was urging his readers to consider what to them must have seemed a novel proposition. The great problem of the ‘nation’ (meaning of course, British capitalism) is, he argued that of halting and reversing the enormous increase of government expenditure that has taken place during this century. This, for him, is so much the greatest problem that he could write: —”I am …. sure that until a solution to it is found no government of whatever party, or under whatever leadership, will achieve more than temporary success.”

From that point Mr. Wincott’s reasoning goes thus:— A Labour government is likely to go on increasing the size of government expenditure; the Tories are better suited—in the long run—to tackle the twin jobs of getting economy and efficiency, but at present the Tory government is quite unable to think about it let alone do it; so the best solution would be a Labour government in office and the Tories in opposition where they could think about the great task of reducing the amount of the capitalist’s income sucked away to run the Administration. And he adds: —

“It seems that the real, long-term interests of Britain would best be served in part if the Tories lost the next election and. going into opposition, gave themselves the time to solve the outstanding problems of our age.”

That was Mr. Wincott in the Financial Times in July. Two months later the Editor of the Sunday Times (1st. September) started another hare. He would have agreed with Mr. Wincott that a Labour electorial victory was not particularly alarming, nor even a successful Labour government. What he fears is a Labour government which proves a failure:

“This would indeed be an alarming situation, since it would mean that both parties had failed in the same way at once. … If the Labour Party first wins and then fails, that would produce a crises of confidence not in the Government, but in ‘government itself.”

It could be summed up by saying that the Sunday Times is not afraid of a Labour Government because it would hardly be distinguishable from a Tory one. A year, or perhaps two years, after a Labour victory the electors may discover “that nothing really new has happened, that the Labour Party has no answers which the Conservatives did not have, that it has only some other and less energetic Ministers and a younger and perhaps more energetic leader”.

The Sunday Times and Mr. Wincott see the problem rather differently. While the latter appears to put the major emphasis on cutting down expenditure, the Sunday Times editor takes the line that administrative methods are hopelessly out-of-date and that top priority should be given to that problem. “Reform of the system of government is the essential preliminary to all other reforms”.

Of course the fears and hopes of those two gentlemen do not exhaust the possibilities, nor do the policies or lack of policies of the major political parties. If a realisation that there is little to choose between Labour and Tory Government turns workers’ thoughts to a realisation that there is a deeper problem, concerned with social structure and class relationship, they may be the readier to come our way and work for Socialism.

Macmillan changes nothing (1962)

From the September 1962 issue of the Socialist Standard

We have been here before. There is no novelty in Government changes, even if they are in one big purge at the top, as Mr. Macmillan has just pushed through. Punch greeted the news with a reprint of a cartoon which showed a shelf full of discarded top ministers from the Balfour government of 1905. Clement Attlee was always liable to make important changes and in some of them won for himself a reputation for ruthlessness.

In one of his reshuffles he called to Ten Downing Street a minor minister who was generally accepted to be running his department satisfactorily. The minister left smiling brightly and the newspapers decided that Attlee had called him only to say, “Well done—carry on.” In fact, the minister had been brusquely sacked and was never seen on the front benches again.

This may have been typical of Attlee’s handling of his men, but it does not fit in with the popular conception of Macmillan. Up to his last purge the Tory premier had stuck to some of his men through thick and thin. When the responsible minister offered to resign after the shake-up over the Portland spy case, Macmillan refused to let him go. He has stood by Selwyn Lloyd under the opposition’s fiercest fire, answering criticism with promotion. This had given Macmillan a reputation for personal loyalty to his ministers.

So we have had a lot of nonsense from the press, who like us to think that the men who run British capitalism are affected in their work by sentiments like loyalty and friendship. There is a certain grim humour in this. Politicians, after all, are the men who must try to hold down our wages, decide to explode bombs which they know will release lethal fall out, declare war which they know will kill hundreds of thousands of people. And while they are doing all this, they must justify it by telling us that it is done in our interests.

So politicians must be hard and cynical and ruthless. They must be cold liars. They must be calculating mass killers. It is too much to believe that they are also the sort of men who will regret sacking a colleague because he went to Eton with them, or because he once took on one of capitalism’s dirtier jobs for them.

The men who are at the head of capitalism’s affairs are very remote from the rest of us. It is, therefore, difficult to discover the reasons for government changes, but we can discuss one or two aspects of them. Were the changes intended to reinvigorate the government? It is a popular delusion that a vigorous minister who runs a better department means a better life for us all. The Guardian plugged that line in 1950, when it thought the Labour government was tired and in need of a rest. It thinks something like that about the Tory government today. It may be that an energetic minister is better at his job than one who has been broken by years of trying to solve capitalism’s insolubles. But nobody has yet demonstrated that an energetic and efficient administration of capitalism benefits its people. Problems like bad housing and slumps and wars persist in capitalism, whoever may try his hand at getting rid of them. Sometimes, in fact, they can transform an energetic minister into one who is washed out. They did this to Anthony Eden. Sometimes they can break an entire government, as they did the Labour administration in 1951.

This goes, too, for the theory that young men make better ministers than old men. This theory is beloved in many places—perhaps most strongly among young workers, who hope that a young minister understands their problems. This was one of the themes on which Kennedy took power in the United States. Yet the facts shoot the theory full of holes. Young men who have risen fast in the government—men like Anthony Eden, Harold Wilson and Hugh Gaitskell—have shown no more skill than their older counterparts in taking capitalism’s hurdles. It cannot even be said for them that they have brought any especial benefits to young people. They have, for example, always eagerly supported the wars in which young men are pushed into the extremities of danger and suffering. In fact, young ministers have run capitalism, as best they may, no better and no worse than old ministers have run it.

Perhaps the Macmillan purge was designed to improve what is called the image of the government—its appearance before the doubtful electors. A government’s image is important; in some cases it wins or loses them votes. Yet in one way the changes do nothing to help the government’s image. For the image must be a successful one. And can a government which has had to be put through a shattering change be described as successful? Perhaps there are different interpretations of the word. Up to the last moment the government were assuring us that Selwyn Lloyd was successful, that his policies were correct and that he was administering them firmly and wisely. What sort of an image has Lloyd, now?

We could go on like this for a very long time; the politics of capitalism are full of double dealing, lies and worse. But let us consider the reshuffle from the point of view of the people who are meant to be impressed by it; the people who vote governments in and out; the people who keep capitalism running; the working class. For them, what are the changes worth?

In a word: Nothing. We have been here before and we have seen it all before. Governments have come and gone, been reshuffled, turned upside down, inside out and up the right way again. Prime Ministers have been ousted and replaced. The governing party itself has been changed. Through it all the same old problems have kept nagging at us.

Many workers who decided in 1945 that the Tories were a pack of played out, hard-faced men, were disappointed at the Labour Party’s efforts to do better. Whatever changes are made in any government’s personnel the results are roughly the same.

There need be no mystery about this. Governments run capitalism. And capitalism will keep throwing up economic troubles, personal insecurity, international disputes and the rest, as long as it exists. Whoever is in charge of any particular ministry can have no effect’upon these problems. Foreign secretaries have failed to remove war from capitalism. Chancellors have not been able to budget poverty out of existence. Housing ministers have been baffled by slums.

The evidence of the past says that this is true. So does the evidence of the present. One of the brightest stars to rise in the recent reshuffle is Sir Keith Joseph, who is now the Minister of Housing and Welsh Affairs. This man seems to have everything. Educated at Harrow and Oxford. A beautiful home, a lovely wife. Oozing with culture and knowledge. The top papers rushed to eulogise him and to tell us how lucky we are to be bossed by somebody like the elegant Sir Keith. One of them, carried away, described him as man who offers his opinions like fine sherry served on a silver platter.

Now what sort of sherry has Sir Keith to offer on the housing question, which nags and depresses and desolates so many workers? This is how The Guardian, on August 1st last, reported his contribution to the House of Commons debate on the homeless in London:

“The remedy was more new houses. At first he wondered if slum clearance could be stopped, but when one realised the condition of some of these slums. Cable Street, Stepney, for instance, no Government would wish to stop their clearance, however bad the housing shortage . . . ‘That is undoubtedly what we need, more low-cost housing in London, and my purpose is to try to help the L.C.C. and other authorities, and private enterprise, to achieve just this’.”

The remedy is more new houses! Not a very original conclusion—we have been hearing it for as long as there has been a housing problem. At the same time, we have also been hearing why capitalism cannot get around to building enough new houses; they can’t be afforded, or must take their turn in the queue behind armaments. We’ll be hearing the same from Sir Keith, before long.

Wondering if slum clearance can be stopped! Here, perhaps, is one solution to the housing question. But it can be extended. Has Sir Keith wondered about housing workers in caves, or in disused coal mines? There are going to be more of these going soon and some of them are probably better than Cable Street.

We need more low-cost housing! In other words, if the working class are to be housed they need more cheap, poky, substandard, working class homes. If they are to be cleared out of today’s slums, tomorrow’s must be ready to receive them.

This is what we are invited to accept as rare sherry on a silver platter. Sir Keith Joseph may be a charming, cultured, educated man. But capitalism has him beaten and fumbling, just as it has the people who vote for it and who don’t need an expensive education to do so. Yes, we have been here before and we shall be here again. Because capitalism keeps throwing up the same problems and bringing us back to the same realities. It is like a nightmarish roundabout, driven by nonsense and ballyhoo and simple lies.

Ivan.

The Confessions of a Tory MP (1962)

From the August 1962 issue of the Socialist Standard

Cyril Osborne, Tory MP for Louth since 1945, often blurts out his thoughts on the state of the country without much regard for the embarrassment it must cause to his Party. He is a stockbroker, a company director, and an executive member of the Association of British Chambers of Commerce; he has a special interest in trade and finance.

He is gloomy about the present, and pessimistic about what comes after. Speaking to the staff conference of the Wholesale Textile Association at Oxford on July 9 he struck out in all directions; with force if not always with accuracy, if we judge by the report in the Times: “The Western capitalist system,” he said, is facing its gravest crisis since 1931, and “the communist powers” are not in better shape.

He found that in most countries excess manufacturing capacity has been built up in many basic industries, and “no one seemed to know how to increase consumption without starting galloping inflation”:

“They were all trying to export more and at the same time cut down on imports. President Kennedy was beaten by the problem and Germany’s exuberance was slowing down. The whole Common Market is losing its value, while Canada is down and out. Neither Government nor Opposition in this country is sure what is the right answer.”

Discounting some exaggeration, Mr. Osborne’s description of trade conditions in the Western world is indisputable. There are an increasing number of firms and industries here and across the Atlantic that are working far below capacity; not because they could not expand output by getting more workers out of the hundreds of thousands of job-seekers, but because they can’t find enough buyers who will offer profitable prices for their products. In some big industries, coal and railways, shipbuilding and aircraft production, the number of jobs is falling as sales decline.

It is a telling point Mr. Osborne makes that the countries are all trying to increase exports while curtailing imports, forgetting that one country’s exports are another country’s imports. (Mr. Osborne probably does not know that Socialists were making the point before he was born). And Mr. Osborne is at least getting a little nearer to the truth when he doubts whether the remedy is to be found in the Common Market, or in Kennedy’s policies, or in Canadian dreams of greatness, or in the way they run their trade in Russia. According to him, “the communist powers” are anxiously watching to see if we can find the key to the problem.

But first a word or two about Mr. Osborne’s personal and Party responsibility. He tells us now that the workers (and “the management”) have got to work harder and expect less, and put up with the loss of jobs that will follow the bankruptcy of many inefficient firms and that even so it is uncertain whether recovery can come “without the cruel harshness of an economic slump”: in other words, back to the nineteen thirties and the depression years.

He finds the root of the trouble in the outlook of this generation, “that has been told it can vote itself anything it desires.” But who told them that if they voted a Conservative Government back into power it meant voting to double the standard of living in this generation, and meant “Prosperity and Peace,” and “prosperity and opportunity for all”? Who told the electors in 1959 that 1951, when the Tories came into power, “was a turning point in British history”? Turning away from what to what? Surely it wasn’t supposed to mean turning to the grim outlook Mr. Osborne now threatens us with?

And it is transparently clear that Mr. Osborne knows no better than those he slates how to put things right. He wants the workers to work harder and expect less so that prices will be lower and British goods improved in quality. But just as it is impossible for all the world’s exports to expand if all the worlds’ imports are being cut—which Mr. Osborne sees—it is likewise impossible to make trading conditions better by having each worker producing more and buying less.

And while British industries are lowering prices and raising quality and producing more, what are the rest of the world’s manufacturers supposed to be doing? They will all be chasing the same elusive solution.

But note just how silly Mr. Osborne’s solution is. The problem, as stated by him, is “how to increase consumption” since many industries have excess capacity which will not be used unless consumption is increased—and his remedy is that consumption should be decreased (The workers must “expect less.”)

We have to correct one of Mr. Osborne’s errors, his belief that no one seems to know how to increase consumption without starting inflation. Socialists know very well how to do this and have been trying to get workers to heed it for a long, long time. All it needs is to bring the production and the consumption together. The world’s population needs, and would like, to increase its consumption of all kinds of things by very large amounts. The world’s resources of human labour, nature given materials, and machinery, etc., could vastly increase output of the things people want. Let Mr. Osborne tell us why the two should not be brought into direct relationship, with production solely for use without the complexities of buying, selling and profit-making that the Western and Eastern powers agree in supposing to be necessary.

Edgar Hardcastle

The Common Market Special Survey: 1. The Background (1962)

From the January 1962 issue of the Socialist Standard

A shiver of apprehension is running through the national press as cabinet ministers and captains of industry set about the task of preparing the public for what to expect if Britain’s application to join the Common Market should be accepted. Mr. Macmillan calls it “a bracing cold shower we shall enter, not a relaxing Turkish bath” and one of the industrial bosses thinks it will rather be “an icicled channel swim at nought degrees Centigrade.” Prophecy is dangerous, but the chances are that within 15 months from now this country will be part of the European Economic Community.

What reasons do the British ruling class put forward for having to join the Common Market? Why should Britain shift the traditional centre of gravity of her economy from the Commonwealth to Europe? Why should she wish to wind up the European Free Trade Area (EFTA) she had only recently been instrumental in creating? And what effects will this have upon the British working class?

Weakened and impoverished by the ravages of World War II, the rump of continental Europe lay prostrate in front of the Iron Curtain, useless to the bloc of Western powers dominated by the United States of America as a profitable market, useless in the game of power politics as a defence against the rival bloc grouped around the Soviet Union. Only an economically healthy Europe would offer reasonable guarantees of safety to the American world of finance and industry. And so from the dust and ashes there arose new life, frantic activity, a giant mesh of scaffolding throughout Western Europe, factories, banks, stores, communications shot up at breakneck speed—financed by a massive programme of American aid and investment. The Marshall Plan "of which the sole condition was that the countries of Europe must band together and agree upon a joint recovery programme.”

British industrialists watched with consternation ultramodern plant swinging into action across the channel. But with both the home market and the Commonwealth, with its established system of preferential duties, crying out for manufactured goods after the shortage and wastage of the war years, profits were still secure in spite of outdated plant and methods.

Powerful vested interests were haunted by the fear of a resurgent Germany, the spectre of Krupp and Thyssen—the giants of the Ruhr and the power behind the expansionist militarism both of Prussia and Nazi Germany. German industry was not to be permitted to swallow all the plums in the new Europe. Markets, capital, labour and raw materials were to be divided fairly between the power groups. By 1953 the European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC) was a going concern comprising the coal and steel industries of Federal Germany, France, Italy and Benelux (Belgium, Netherlands and Luxemburg). The Origins of the Common Market.

There was one weak link; Belgian coal was too expensive. Throughout the mining belt across the south of Belgium mines were shut down and miners were out of work in their thousands. But the Belgian mine owners had been helped over the critical period with massive subsidies from the international High Authority administering ECSC. Capitalism had pulled a new card from its sleeve. For coal and steel, ECSC meant larger markets, bigger production, better exploitation of capital and labour, fewer irksome administrative barriers, discriminations and quotas. Why not extend the idea to the economy as a whole?

By March, 1957, there was signed the Treaty of Rome which launched the six participants in ECSC on the road towards the Common Market. Its object was:

“To permit goods to travel freely without Customs Duties or quota restrictions, throughout the area of the Six and thus to permit manufacturers to invest on the scale that modern technology makes possible and necessary.”

Customs duties between the Six were to be whittled down progressively in three successive phases of four years each. At the same time a uniform external tariff wall was to be erected around the Six. Allowance was made for differences between the Six in terms of industrial development and efficiency or productivity, for differences in wage levels between member countries. It was obvious that the impact of a progressive crumbling of Customs duties would have serious effects on certain industries and even countries. To soften the impact the Six adopted a device successfully tried out by the Benelux countries from the start of their Customs Union almost immediately after the last war—a Compensation Tax. Being flexible, this tax can be used to ensure, in the interest of the ruling class of the Six as a whole, that individual national groups of an industry do not cause too much of a disturbance in any specific field.

Big industry and banking seized the opportunity with both hands; American capital poured into the Six. Displaced Persons, human flotsam, waiting to be employed as cheap labour, were overflowing in German refugee camps. Italy, where starving millions were considered a potential communist threat, had been given a major blood transfusion of U.S. dollars and was starting a massive programme of industrialisation with huge reserves of agricultural labour waiting to be drawn off the land in Southern Italy and fed onto the new industrial treadmill.

Developments were rapid. Before the end of the first four-year period the programme of whittling down of Customs Duties had been exceeded by 18 months. Inter-Common Market tariffs are now 30 per cent. below their 1957 level and may be 50 per cent. down by the end of this year. The process may be completed by 1965 if not before.

In the meantime the British ruling class was taking only a modest interest in the Common Market. How modest will be seen from the fact that that even as late as 1960 British private direct investment within the Six (excluding oil and insurance) amounted to no more than £21 million as compared with £208 million invested in the Sterling Area outside the United Kingdom during the same period. In a good many fields British industry was not even interested in exports of any kind. These were the people who could sell all they could manufacture in the home market behind the cover of a high protective tariff wall and in the expectation that the halcyon days were here to stay. Their plant was being amortized at a comfortable rate and foreign competition could not touch them. To break into the fiercely competitive outside world meant hard work, expense, lower profit margins. Why bother?

But in the Commonwealth things had been happening. Preferential treatment of British goods had disappeared under a great many headings in the Customs Tariffs of Commonwealth countries which are fast building up a market for their products in Europe.

Nonetheless certain Commonwealth countries, notably New Zealand, still depended largely on the British market for their livelihood and raised vociferous objections to any thought of a British commitment with the Six unless their special interests were safeguarded.

Powerful British interests also disliked intensely the possibility of a political entanglement with the Six.

It was all too complicated. Couldn’t the remaining uncommitted countries of Europe (Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Switzerland, Austria, Portugal) be brought into some form of association more to the liking of the British ruling class, without the embarrassment of. political implications and interference with existing Commonwealth trade? Their 97 million people (including the United Kingdom) would not compare with the home market of 170 millions of the Six, but it was better than nothing. And it would strengthen Britain’s hand in any later approaches to the Six. Thus was born the European Free Trade Association (EFTA) or “The Seven.” Finland has since joined making EFTA “The Eight.” Its purpose was to be strictly limited to the progressive reduction of Inter-EFTA Customs Duties and quantitive restrictions.

Now the prospect of an enlarged Common Market of 250 million people or more discriminating against U.S. goods is beginning to alarm the American capitalists. Already pressure groups are at work promoting a direct U.S. participation in the Common Market. This, to quote, the Herter report, “with its highly developed industrial and technological complex and its disciplined workers, would comprise the most efficient workshop in the world” where since 1958 trade among the Six had risen by about 50 per cent. . . .

What is involved in the British application to join the Six, for industry and finance, and what does it mean to the British working class?

If agreement should not be forthcoming, British industry could well find itself faced across the Channel with a fast-expanding, highly efficient and ultramodern competitor of great striking power. Many British manufactured products may disappear from the markets of the world which would entail a major re-alignment of industry. The usual flow of capital from the weak to the strong will be accelerated. The harder it became to export finished goods, the more British capital might have to seek investment abroad for overseas manufacture, albeit in return for smaller profits.

Designed to fit the present requirements of Western capitalist society, the Common Market has, like any other capitalist institution, no permanence. It will be discarded when it ceases to be profitable. To the British worker it reinforces the constant threat for the worker under capitalism of insecurity and unemployment,

Tisserand.

News in Review: Hurrah for the NCB (1962)

The News in Review column from the March 1962 issue of the Socialist Standard

Hurrah for the NCB

Who was it who once prayed to be protected from his friends?

When he was plain Mr. Oliver Lyttelton, Lord Chandos was a prominent member of the Conservative opposition which duelled with the Attlee government over its nationalisation bills. They fought in the House of Commons all day and. sometimes, all night as well. So effective was their propaganda that to many voters nationalisation became a very-dirty word.

But what is Lord Chandos saying about nationalisation now that he is a big industrial boss, chief of the mighty Associated Electrical Industries combine and of the Institute of Directors?

“Nationalisation of a fairly substantial sector of industry has come to stay. Whatever I may have thought in the first place about the wisdom of this policy, it is quite clear that every loyal citizen must try to make our nationalised industries work efficiently … As an industrialist I want cheap fuel and reliable supplies and I believe that with a little more working together that is what you [Lord Robens, chairman of the National Coal Board] will secure for us.”

Lord Robens need not feel embarrassed at this new friendship. Nationalisation was designed to give just what Lord Chandos wants — cheap and reliable supplies of vital commodities.

The only pity now is that Lord Chandos did not tell us this some years ago, when he was spreading the fairy tale that nationalisation had something to do with Socialism.

New Hospitals

One of the things which have missed out on the post war boom is the hospital. Over a fifth of those taken over by the National Health Service in 1948 were built before the American Civil War. Nearly half of them were built before the beginning of this century.

What has been done to put this to rights? Since the last war only one large general hospital has gone up—in Northern Ireland.

To the reformers who have been worried about this, the recent government White Paper must have come as a ray of hope. For plans are being laid to spend nearly £800 million during the next ten years to give us, in the words of the White Paper.” . . . the physical equipment and the pattern and the setting which will everywhere place the most modern treatment at the service of patients.”

This sounds fine. Who can disapprove of bigger and better hospitals? But we have heard this sort of promise before.

We heard it about the roads and the railways and about the Health Service itself. For Capitalism is full of problems which are left to fester until a government decides to tackle them with heavy expenditure.

Many of these grandiose plans have been axed out of recognition in successive economic crises, when, the government has been looking for ways of reducing its expenditure.

There will be more economic crises. Which means that there will be more cuts in expenditure. Which means that Health Minister Powell’s beautiful hospitals may never see the light of day.

Expensive Royalty

Many tongues were clucked at the news that the Royal Family is to have some more money spent on them.

It must cost around £400 a year in fees alone to send the Prince of Wales to Gordonstoun School. The fees, says the school, vary with the parents’ financial circumstances; which does not mean, of course, that the school is full of clever, deserving boys whose parents pay no fees because they cannot afford them.

It will cost about £85,000 to renovate the wing of Kensington Palace where Princess Margaret and her husband are living—£15,000 more than the original estimate.

Some critics say that Prince Charles should be sent to a comprehensive school, like a sizeable part of his subjects. Others think that the Princess should be content to live in a council semi-detached, which to them seems roomy enough for a couple with only one child.

These views are way off the mark. The Royal Family stand for the possessions, rights and privileges of the British ruling class. It is, therefore, only appropriate that they themselves should live in lavish privilege.

And nobody has yet explained how sending a prince to a council school, or sticking a princess in a small house, would help the working class parents who struggle to keep their children at school past the age of fifteen and who have to renovate their house during their summer holiday.

These problems are typical of what faces workers all over the world, under monarchies and in republics.

While the tongue-cluckers do their measly, pointless sums, Capitalism grinds merrily on, providing a fat living for a few of its people and condemning the rest to dull poverty.

Tory Unrest

The Government took on a slight list last month, under the blast of criticism from many quarters.

The strikes of railwaymen and engineers encouraged The Guardian to sigh that, although they reproved the strikers, industrial unrest was the inevitable result of the Government’s policy on wages. Other critics thought that the trouble was caused because the Government had not explained the pay pause properly to the workers.

Some standard bearers for free enterprise were disappointed at the Government’s refusal to interfere with the free enterprise take-over bid from ICI for Courtaulds. Labour had a go on Lord Home’s criticism of UNO. To cap it all Tory M.P. Sir Harry Legge-Bourke suggested that fellow Old Etonian Macmillan is getting past it and should hand over to a younger man.

It would be interesting to hear how a government could explain a wage freeze so that the frozen workers accepted it. Workers sell their energies to their employers, which means that they are bound to resist any effort to keep down the price of those energies, whatever tricky name it goes under.

Such problems are typical of the confusion of Capitalism and are bound to cause unrest as the Government—any government—grapples with them. Critics and rebels may flex their muscles impressively, but when it is their turn to do the grappling they never shape any better than the men they have criticised.

The fact is that the individuals who say they are in charge of the affairs of British Capitalism really have little control over events. And that goes for their critics as well.

So it does not really matter whether or not Macmillan manages to ride this latest storm. We shall still all be in the same boat together.

I’m alright, Alec (1963)

From the December 1963 issue of the Socialist Standard

In many ways, the selection of Sir Alec Douglas-Home as the new Tory Prime Minister made political history. What Macmillan called “the usual processes of consultation” will one day be the subject of countless essays, articles and hopeful theses on the techniques of political dealing. In the end, Home’s succession was a surprise to most of the observers who are supposed to be able to forecast such things.

But in one way—a way that will not be mentioned in the histories—Home’s appointment came up as expected. It was certain that whoever got the job would do so in a smokescreen of what can only be called nonsense. There was, in fact, a different sort of nonsense for each of the candidates. Hailsham was said to be tough, colourful, impetuous—just the man to give some stick to Khruschev or, darkly hinted the Labour Party, to press the button in a disastrous moment of irascibility. Butler was smooth, remote, soft on coshboys. And so on.

The nonsense which was put out about Home was influenced by his peculiar circumstances. There was the usual stuff about the new Prime Minister’s amiable manner, about his propensity for chatting with Foreign Office chars, about the way he eats his breakfast porridge. We have grown accustomed to such stuff and have come to assume that it is all meant to prove something.

What was unique about the Home propaganda revolved around the fact that he was the latest of a long line of Scottish noblemen. The first of these was created a peer by James III, although his gratitude at this was not enough to dissuade him from later joining a rebel movement against the king. That particular peer died in 1491 later holders of the title met a grisly end or figured in a long feud with another Border family. The amiability for which the last Lord Home was famous could easily be due to the serene security in which he has always lived and to the curious reasoning by which some aristocratic families convince themselves that they hold their superior situation in life as a favour to the less fortunate masses.

This, as we might have expected, was meat and drink to the Labour propagandists. Just as they were basing their appeal on a drive to modernise and stimulate British capitalism, just as Wilson was telling us that the future lies in a disturbingly scientific Britain, the Tories make themselves appear outdated, obsessed with the old school tie, by electing the inheritor of an ancient Scottish earldom as their leader! How can such a man, demanded Mr. Wilson, know anything about the problems of kids taking the eleven-plus, or of a couple who are paying the mortgage off their house?

How indeed? But then, even if we accept that Home does not know anything about these things, would there be any advantage for us if he did know? The Labour Party have always tried to present an image of themselves as men who have come up the hard way and who are therefore, familiar with working class problems. Today they may pose as the party for young graduates who are bursting to get their hands on a computer and start driving the deadwood out of the boardrooms; not so long ago they were full of ex-miners who talked about getting the bosses off our backs. Yet what happened when the ex-miners came to power? The 1945 Labour government had many men like James Griffiths and Ernest Bevin whose early lives had been of appalling hardship. Did that government run the affairs of British capitalism any more humanely for that? Did they ever shrink from taking measures which, although essential to the interests of the British ruling class, were harmful to the very people whose votes and work had raised them to power? They did not.

The humble beginnings of some of the Labour ministers did not prevent them running British capitalism in the established manner, with all that that means. Indeed, perhaps there were times between 1945 and 1951 when miners, or dockers, or some other group of workers, may have wished that they were being governed by people who did not know so much about their problems—and about their methods of trying to alleviate them.

For all that, Wilson’s thrust at the fourteenth Earl was typically shrewd and may have set the tone for Labour's future attacks on Home. The Tories’ reply was enough to show that they are as concerned as they need be about the aristocratic lineage of their new leader. Heralded by Peregrine Worsthorne in the Sunday Telegraph, the Conservative machine set out to convince us that Home’s selection proved that a man can become Prime Minister on his own ability, and in spite of the fact that he is an Earl. This, in some peculiar way, is supposed to mean that we are developing a classless society in which all Britons are equal. Home himself made his own version of the point when he commented that the Labour leader is probably the fourteenth Mr. Wilson, which was joyously trumpeted by the Daily Telegraph as the best crack for a long time.

We can see, then, that the elevation of Home has released a flood of nonsense not just about the man himself but about the class to which he belongs and about the class division of society. Class, we know, is something of a dirty word, Every capitalist party strives to assure us that they do not stand for the interests of any one class and that their policies are designed to benefit us all. At the same time they work hard to convince us that their opponents' schemes are class-inspired. The Labour Party damns the Tories as the rich man’s party; the Conservatives sneer that the Labour Party is obsessed with class bigotry. That is not the end of the confusion. Some people think that classes do not exist, others believe that they do exist but they are not sure where the divisions between them begin and end. They talk about lower middle and upper-working class and other, equally meaningless, divisions.

Now the only way to clear up confusion is to present the facts. What, first of all, is a class? It has nothing to do with how much a person may earn, nor the sort of job he does, nor the school he went to. A class is a group of people who are united, whether they admit to it or not, by a common economic interest. This means that in modern capitalist society people are split into two classes, each of them with opposing economic interests. In this situation, it is nonsense to talk of a middle class—a class with “middle” interests somewhere between the two. The two classes which exist today are, on the one hand, those who have to work for a wage for their living and on the other those who can live without having to go out to work. The first of these—the working class have virtually no property in the means of producing wealth and for that reason are forced to rely on their wage to live. They sell their working ability to the other class —who, because they own enough stocks, shares, bonds, and so on, can live very well without having to work. The interests of capitalist and worker are opposed because one is a seller, and the other a buyer, of a commodity—the working ability of the worker.

It is a common fallacy that the gap between the classes is growing daily smaller. Yet there is obviously a pretty big gap between Sir Alec Douglas-Home and the working people of Scotland—the miners, the dockers, the clerks, the farm hands and the rest. The evidence, in fact, says that the gap is as large as ever. The Ministry of Labour Family Expenditure Survey for 1962 gives some idea of what it means to be a member of an average working class family. In the year under review, the ‘families which had a weekly income of between £15 and £20 spent an average of £1 14s. 4d. a week on their housing, £5 7s. 10d. on food—and made what the Survey calls a “net loss” of 4s. 4d. on betting. We know, because these figures are pretty general for all of us, that this sort of expenditure does not allow a very opulent life. But that is all that the average member of the working class can afford.

On the other side of the gap it is a very different story. Last September a young heiress lost her life m a sailing accident off the South Coast. Although she was only 21 when she died, she left a net amount of £82,309—which is far more than any worker can ever dream of earning. A classless society? The Earl of Harrington recently put up for auction his family seat, Elvaston Castle, and the 4,500 acre estate that goes with it. This estate includes three villages. This sale, which was worth over a million pounds to the Earl, will not leave him homeless. He owns 5,000 acres and will be going to live in his other place in County Limerick. These are only two glimpses at life on the other side of the gap. We may not exactly know, but we can take a guess, at what that life is like and at the sort of expenditure the people, on that side can afford. It will not be anything like that of the average family under the Ministry of Labour's microscope.

It is obvious on which side Sir Alec is. He is a member of the capitalist class who also happens to lead a government which avowedly stands for capitalism. The Labour Party may not have many leaders to compare with Home's aristocratic background, but this does not alter the fact that they also stand for capitalism. In fact, what matters is not whether the men who run the private property system of society are blue-blooded or bear the blue scars which prove that they once sweated and suffered down a coal mine. Experience has told us that the ex-miner runs capitalism as ruthlessly as any Tory nobleman. The important thing is what each of them stands for.

Capitalism, by its class ownership of the means of living, its inequalities and its privileges, perpetuates the class system. It is hypocrisy for a party to say that they are opposed to class privileges while they stand for the social system which fosters them. And all the capitalist parties are guilty of this. All of them, in whatever accent, pay lip service to human equality. And all of them in fact support the world in which the masses are condemned to the paltry and the shoddy while a small minority own the land we walk over, the things we work with, almost our very lives themselves. This minority live, to put it mildly, very well off the masses. Perhaps, of a night, they offer up an extra prayer—I’m alright, Alec; do your best to keep it that way.

Douglas-Home has no proposals to alter this state of affairs and neither have his Labour and Liberal opponents. If class society is to be brought to an end, the first essential is that the nonsense has to stop. But capitalist parties thrive—indeed they live—on nonsense. If the working class were to see through it all—now that would really make history and Alec would no longer be alright.

Ivan

Greasy Pole: Death of a Buffoon (2001)

The Greasy Pole column from the November 2001 issue of the Socialist Standard

Quintin McGarel Hogg, Lord Hailsham of St. Marylebone in the City of London, who was “a sweet, dear man” (Woodrow Wyatt); a “political genius” (Harold Macmillan); a “cantankerous old man” (Margaret Thatcher); “a gentleman” (himself) died last month. He was 94 years old and his life was richly productive of the kind of material beloved of fawning obituarists, who did him full justice. By the time we had absorbed that he was a kind, effervescent, clever, intellectual giant we could only wonder how the world would survive without him. Could it really go on, with its wars and disease and poverty, untouched by the death of one of capitalism’s more arrogant and volatile politicians? Should we not reproach ourselves for failing to value this paragon more appropriately when he was alive? Except that Hailsham, was not quite like his admirers make him out to be.

He came of a family of lawyers and politicians and ended his career in politics seemingly welded to the Woolsack, holding the job of Lord Chancellor longer than anyone since the days of Lord Halsbury at the end of the 19th century: “. . . he couldn’t go on being that for ever” said an exasperated Margaret Thatcher when she was contemplating removing him from that office. His father held the same job in the 1920s and was the MP for St. Marylebone. His son Douglas is an MP and has held some minor ministerial jobs – although not to wide acclaim or without controversy. A daughter is a High Court judge. The Hogg family looks likely to carry on into infinity, producing volatile eccentrics who are willing to play their part in running British capitalism in the interests of the class they are born into.

Eton and All Souls

Hailsham was educated at Eton; where else could a boy like him have gone to school? He was said to be the cleverest pupil there, too clever for some of the masters and he was fully aware of it, being known as “. . . a disagreeable boy, academically clever, but emotionally arrogant and extremely self-centred”. Of course he was elected to Pop, that self-appointed aristocracy above the aristocrats of the school. Members of Pop wore fancy waistcoats and walked about arm in arm, they were fawned on by many of the masters and feared among the other boys for their arbitrary powers of flogging and the enforced servitude known as fagging. Clearly, Eton had little to teach the young Hailsham (or Hogg, as he was then, before succeeding to the title) about asserting himself as a member of the ruling class. He was notorious for the gusto and frequency with which he beat other boys (his half-brother, Edward Marjoribanks, was “passionate” about it and had a reputation for sadism). It was a useful education in guiltless suppression of anyone classified as socially inferior.

After collecting a succession of prizes at Eton which proved how clever he was Hailsham went to one of the more traditional of Oxford colleges, got a first class degree and was accepted as a Fellow of All Souls. This is a kind of Pope of the university, although more sober and industrious. It was founded in 1437 with the main purpose of praying for the dead (part of its landholdings include Willesden Junction, a grimy part of North West London where the inhabitants need rather more than prayers to give them some hope). Hailsham began his time among the brains of All Souls as a “Screw”, whose job was to decant the after dinner port which was drunk in such quantities. Places like All Souls, with their exclusivity and their rituals, play a part in informing the working class that they must accept their inferior status in society, the running of which should be left to their betters. How reliable a concept this is can be judged by the kind of politician to have passed through those privileged doors – recent examples were Keith Joseph and John Redwood, who have gone down in history as eccentric blunderers. We shall see how Hailsham measured up to the popular expectations of him.

Suez

He burst onto the political scene as Conservative candidate in a bye-election at Oxford City in 1938, supporting the Chamberlain policy of “appeasement” of Nazi Germany against an all-party candidate. This took some living down later, when appeasement became a nasty word and Chamberlain was universally unpopular. Hailsham survived the war with a slight wound and continued as an MP with a reputation as a kind of verbal blunderbuss in his attacks on the Labour government. Some time after the Tories won power he was appointed First Lord of the Admiralty, which pandered to his need to behave like an attention-seeking adolescent. But behind his posturing the fact was that, although he was one of the Service ministers he was kept in the dark about the secret negotiations between Britain, France and Israel which laid the plans to justify the Suez invasion. Hailsham denounced the Egyptian take-over of the Suez Canal as “wholly illegal” (as if such concepts are of the slightest consequence in capitalism’s wars) and never doubted that Britain and France were right to “intervene” (as he called it) in the war between Israel and Egypt. It was not the most penetrating analysis of that sordid affair.

Under Macmillan’s prime ministership Hailsham, who succeeded to the title when his father died in 1950, was given the kind of jobs which could have paved his way to the top. Appointed party chairman, he seized the opportunity to engage hysterically with the membership. In 1957 at the Tory conference in Brighton he made his first appearance in the early morning on the beach, wearing baggy trunks and plunging briskly into the sea for a swim. It was not coincidence that he was accompanied (although not into the water – there are limits to the call of duty) by a posse of newspaper hacks. At the end of that conference Hailsham grabbed the chairman’s bell and rang it in a frenzy, declaiming the poet’s words about who the bell tolls for – meaning the Labour Party. The party faithful loved it, stamping their feet and cheering but others – particularly his rivals in the party – were sourly uneasy at his vulgar publicity-seeking.

Flat Cap

This behaviour was rewarded in 1963 when Hailsham was given not one, but two, jobs involving responsibility for sport and for injecting some hope into the North East, where unemployment was at 4.5 percent compared to 2.4 percent nationally. The region’s most important industries – steel, shipbuilding, coal – were in decline. Hailsham was not a sportsman – he regarded the very idea of a minister of sport as akin to fascism – and he was not an economist. This did not disqualify him from holding the jobs but it did make the appointment look like a typical piece of Macmillan gimmickry. Hailsham did nothing to dispel this by touring the region wearing the kind of flat cap usually seen in working men’s clubs, or the dole queues. Later he tried to explain this away as a matter of chance; he had left his bowler hat in his car in London and was offered a choice of a pork pie hat or the cap. He chose the cap because it would be useful when he was out shooting. But the impression endured, that he was either making fun of the hard-pressed workers there or was clumsily trying to convince them that in spite of his Eton education and his large house in Sussex he was really one of them. “I do not pretend” he wrote later “that the plan (which he drew up after his visit) succeeded to the extent that my visit to the North East permanently solved the chronic difficulties of the region”. Well no, it didn’t but at least he got a nice new cap out of it, for his times on the grouse moors.

Later that year his big chance arrived, when Macmillan decided to resign and the Tory party descended into the kind of frenzied back-stabbing which should have had no place in what was called, in the days before Thatcher, the gentleman’s party. It all happened at their 1963 conference where, after Macmillan’s announcement, the atmosphere was, according to William Rees Mogg, “ugly”. Hailsham was Macmillan’s first preference as his successor but he had to get rid of his title and return to being plain Mr. Quintin McGarel Hogg. Without following the custom of first informing the rest of the cabinet he launched his bid for the top job in a carefully stage-managed announcement at the end of an otherwise dull meeting, which erupted into hysterical applause at the news. Randolph Churchill roamed the conference pinning large badges with the letter Q onto anyone unwise enough to stand still within arms reach. Hailsham got himself photographed spoon feeding his one year old child in the hotel foyer. All of this was not to Macmillan’s taste and so from the chaos of ugliness emerged the unlikely figure of Douglas-Home. Hailsham had blown it.

Relief

Which must have been a relief to the many people who had him correctly summed up, not as a genius but an arrogant buffoon, isolated by his conceit from the real world around him. Throughout his life he was buoyed up by the assumption that he and the rest of his class were superior, born to rule in the best of all possible worlds which is capitalism. The rest of us should only be grateful that there are people like Hailsham who are willing to exploit, degrade and ridicule us. To anyone concerned for society and its people Hailsham will not be missed.

Ivan