The Benn Diaries: 1940-1990 (7 page)

Tea was not exciting and Clem’s conversation never rose above the ordinary except in his digs at Churchill. I think he has an inferiority complex.

Vi was very la-di-da in her latest creation, with long red fingernails. She might have been a leader of society and her comments were very ‘upper class’, especially her reference to the proposal to open Chequers to Festival of Britain visitors, which was ‘How awful’!

Wednesday 11 April

I must describe the events which have led up to the present crisis in the fortunes of the Party.

When Gaitskell came to consider his budget he was faced with the need for a considerable increase in revenue to meet the rearmament programme and the inflationary dangers that accompanied the rise in world prices.

He also had to demand, even more firmly than is usual for a Chancellor, that government expenditure be held down tightly. The Cabinet Committee which considered the various ways in which these objectives could be achieved reached the provisional conclusion two weeks ago that no charge should be made for dentures and glasses on the Health Service. At about that time Nye Bevan made a speech in public at Bermondsey in which he said that no Government of which he was a member would introduce such a charge.

This was taken to be. a statement of fact. It now appears it was nothing of the kind – rather an ultimatum to Gaitskell designed to intimidate him.

Perhaps I should say at this point that Nye’s Celtic pride has been deeply hurt during the last six months. When Cripps resigned as Chancellor he was bitterly disappointed that he, Nye, did not replace him. Harold Wilson felt a similar resentment – of which more later. Then a few weeks ago, when Ernie Bevin resigned the Foreign Office, Nye felt that he should have had first refusal. Instead Herbert Morrison got it. These rebuffs and the emergence of Hugh Gaitskell, which shifted the old balance of forces in the Cabinet, produced all sorts of results. Nye, who had accepted the defence programme reluctantly, believed a socialist budget could make the sacrifices more palatable. When he learned, as late as Monday last, that Gaitskell intended to impose the health service charges, he decided to act.

The Cabinet met at 10.30 last Monday morning. The charge was
disclosed as a definite feature and Nye announced his decision to resign if it were not withdrawn. Gaitskell, backed by the whole Cabinet (except Harold Wilson), stood firm. The Prime Minister, of course, was in hospital with a duodenal ulcer and he was kept in touch. By lunchtime no decision had been reached and so the Cabinet met again on Monday evening at 6.30 and sat for three hours. Nye and Harold Wilson decided that they would resign the following day and letters between them and the PM were actually exchanged with the understanding that they would be published the following evening at 7pm.

After the Cabinet had adjourned, Hugh Dalton (according to his own account) stayed late, with Nye, to dissuade him. Nobody seemed to care very much whether Harold Wilson resigned or not and from this one could learn that indispensability should not be assumed, nor tested too often.

At about 3.40 on Tuesday, after Questions, Hugh Gaitskell, looking pale and nervous and complete with buttonhole, came along the Front Bench to open his Budget.

I looked along the Treasury Bench. Dalton and Chuter Ede, Herbert Morrison and Douglas Jay – they were all there, even the dying Ernie Bevin. But Nye was not.

The Chancellor began. His speech lasted for more than two hours, a brilliant exposition: there is no doubt that speech made his reputation secure. When he came on to the detailed proposals we heard definitely of the decision to charge for glasses and false teeth under the Health Service. I looked at once to the group standing beside the Speaker’s chair. Nye and Jennie Lee and Michael Foot had just entered and they stood there to hear the announcement. As soon as it had been made Nye peered anxiously at the Labour benches, eyes going back and forth up and down. The announcement was greeted without a sound. We all took it absolutely quietly. Nye looked crestfallen and disappeared through the glass doors.

The Tea Room and Smoking Room received the Budget well. We had all expected far worse things and the most noticeable reaction was sheer relief.

Monday 23 April

The resignation of Nye was announced this morning. Harold Wilson’s position was uncertain though it was announced later today that he too intended to go. I arrived at the Commons at 2 and went up into the Members’ Gallery. With the sunlight pouring through the windows opposite, the Chamber was suffused in a warm glow of light. Jennie Lee came in at about ten past three and sat, flushed and nervous, on the very back bench, below the gangway. At 3.20 Nye walked in briskly and jauntily and went straight to his seat three rows back. He looked pale and kept shifting his position and rubbing his hands. The Front Benches on both sides were very full – Churchill, Eden and the Tories sat quietly.

Morrison, Chuter Ede, Noel-Baker, Dalton, Gaitskell and the others sat
unhappily together. Then the Speaker called Nye Bevan to make his resignation statement.

His rising was greeted by a few ‘hear, hears’. Not many. The Government Front Bench looked sicker and sicker as the speech went on and the violence of the attack intensified. Jennie Lee behind him sat forward and became more and more flushed. Every now and again he pushed back the lock of his iron-grey hair. He swung on his feet, facing this way and that and his outstretched arm sawed the air. He abused the Government, he threw in a few anti-American remarks for good measure. He attacked the Treasury, economists, and the unhappy combination of an economist at the Treasury. Gaitskell showed clearly the contempt he felt. Dalton looked like death once warmed up and now cooled down.

The fact is that though there was substance in what he said Nye overplayed his hand. His jokes were in bad taste. I felt slightly sick.

He sat down, the hum of conversation started and the exodus began. Nye stayed put for a few moments. He rose to go, and Emrys Hughes shook his hand as he passed the Front Bench.

It has to be said that he was written the Tory Party’s best pamphlet yet. I predict it will be on the streets in a week.

Tuesday 24 April

Nearly twenty-four hours have elapsed since I wrote the account of the dramatic scene in the House. Nye’s attack was bitter and personal. His style was that of a ranting demagogue. But there was substance in what he said and his speech reads better than it sounded. Nye will never be in another government until and if he forms his own.

Wednesday 10 October

The large Gallup poll majority against us (still 7 per cent) seems too big to beat in two weeks.

Monday 15 October – General Election Campaign

Harry Hennessy took me to my first dinner-hour meeting, outside the Co-op furnishing factory. Not a single soul came out of the factory to listen and I began to wonder what was wrong. We had a lot of kids from the school which made some sort of an audience, but either through a mistake in timing, or through hostility, we got no one out.

I disappeared after lunch to help Tony Crosland in Gloucestershire South. He did very well in his personal canvassing but I didn’t think much of his speech.

Tuesday 16 October

At 7 Caroline and I went over to the Central Hall, Bristol for the great rally which the Prime Minister was to address. There were nearly 3,000 people
there. Harry Hennessy was a wonderful master of ceremonies. His introductory speech was blunt and honest.

Every Labour candidate in Bristol spoke and as I stood up to speak I felt sick with emotion. Mastery of an audience of that size is a strong task, but what an intoxicating experience it is.

We all did a second speech in an overflow meeting upstairs and Harry started a collection off. We collected £138.

Then Clem and Vi could be seen on the way to the platform. Everyone stood up and cheered lustily, shouting themselves hoarse. ‘Hello Tony,’ he said as if we were old friends! I shook Vi’s hand as she passed. Harry took control again and we all sang ‘For he’s a jolly good fellow’. Then Harry introduced ‘Comrade Clem Attlee’, and pushed him forward. But the bouquet had been forgotten and Alderman Mrs Keel gave Vi the flowers with a moving little speech.

Clem quietly and sensibly reviewed the work of the Government abroad and at home, linking each to the work of two famous West Countrymen, Ernest Bevin and Stafford Cripps. ‘They have both left us now,’ he said, ‘but other younger ones have come to take their place. Christopher Mayhew, one of the most brilliant young men, to replace Ernie Bevin, and Tony Wedgwood Benn, another brilliant man, to replace Stafford Cripps.’

When he sat down Tony Crosland moved his vote of thanks, and paid his tribute somewhat back-handedly by saying there has never been an anti-Attlee faction in the Party (which was both patently untrue and damning with faint praise).

We ended with the first verse of ‘The Red Flag’.

Thursday 25 October

The first thing to notice on polling day is the weather and today dawned clear and blue, with a good winter nip in the air. Everyone was cheerful and there was, a crowd of small boys helping by running as messengers and checking numbers at the polling stations.

The first indications were of a moderate swing – Labour majorities reduced by about 1,500 and Tory votes similarly up. It looked as if this would give a working majority to the Tories but only two Conservative gains were reported in the first hours.

We reached Wick Road School at about 11.45 pm after having left Stephen at Winifred Bishop’s house. My agent, Eric Rowe, standing behind the returning officer, had a huge smile on his face. The growing piles of votes in 250s showed us to have about a two to one lead. We almost doubled the by-election majority, although it was down 2,000 compared with Cripps.

I spoke briefly in the count, about the efficiency of the official staff, the clean way the campaign had been fought, and the miracle of British democratic decision making. I was carried on the shoulders of supporters to Ruskin Hall where I thanked them more personally.

A very tired MP and his wife got back to their hotel at 3 am. We listened to the results as they came in until about 3.45.

After the inflation caused by the Korean War, the arguments within the Party, and the drive towards rearmament in Britain and Europe, the defeat of the post-war Labour Government was perhaps inevitable. But the Labour vote remained high and was actually greater than the popular vote that carried Winston Churchill back to power.

Although Clem Attlee carried on as Leader of the Labour Party until after the General Election of1955, it was obvious that the Party was moving to the right, with the rise of new leaders, of whom Hugh Gaitskell was the most significant; while the left under Aneurin Bevan’s leadership was on the defensive. After the Election Tony Benn only kept an intermittent record of those years in opposition, as a humble backbencher.

Wednesday 31 October

This evening David Butler came to dinner. He had been summoned before the 1950 Election to Chartwell and had spent the evening with Churchill discussing electoral possibilities, and he remained overnight as a guest.

Another summons came and David presented himself at Hyde Park Gate at about 10.30 in the morning, where he found Winston in bed drinking a whisky and soda. The first thing that struck him was how he had aged in the last eight months.

He asked several questions about his chances of success in the Election. David was cautious and indicated that an overall majority of forty or so was likely. Putting it into betting odds, he got a more lively response and they had a little backchat.

Churchill remembered almost exactly David’s remarks about eighteen months earlier.

Before he left, Churchill asked him quietly and soberly, ‘Mr Butler, do you think I am a handicap to the Conservative Party?’ It was said without dramatic intent – indeed with a rather pathetic desire for reassurance. David did not answer for a while. ‘Come Mr Butler, you need not be afraid to tell me.’

‘Well,’ replied David, ‘I do not think that you are the asset to them that you once were . . . the public memory is short, you know.’

‘But the people love me, Mr Butler. Everywhere I go they wave and workmen take off their caps to cheer me . . .’

A Note on Hugh Gaitskell

Just before the Election was announced I wrote (as radio adviser to the Party) to Hugh Gaitskell asking him whether I could give him any help with the Party political broadcast he had been asked to give on 29 September. He sent a message asking me to come to his room at the Treasury and I asked Michael Young, Secretary of the Party’s Research Department, to come with me.

Gaitskell walked across from his desk to greet us, and as we were ushered in his smile was welcoming. We sat round his desk and he outlined to us the script that he proposed to deliver.

He was immaculately dressed in a brown suit, with the very slightest aura of aftershave lotion and talcum powder about him. His curly hair and receding chin gave him a boyish but also slightly ineffectual appearance. His smiles are slightly distant and complacent – his mind appeared to be working on its own and only part of it was devoted to the people who were with him.

After he had finished I asked him to what audience he would be directing his remarks – floating, middle-class, trade unionist, unhappy Bevanite? He looked a little pained and bored when I pressed the point and countered by a reminder that honest politics meant speaking the truth, and what fine service Cripps had done to establish this tradition.

Under the mildest form of criticism, he always reverted to this slightly detached and hurt off-handedness so reminiscent of Tony Crosland. The similarity between the two was too noticeable to be missed and no wonder that Crosland thinks so highly of him.

I could see very dearly how the character of Gaitskell and his mannerisms would have driven Nye Bevan to fury. I won’t say he is slippery because he is too straightforward to be that, but he could easily by a gesture or smile or frown or word-choice make it clear he wished to avert a head-on collision in argument with those who disagreed with him.