Part 30 - Fiji, My Fiji, How Beautiful Thou Art (Tuesday, 3 February, 1970) Peggy had largely streamlined government processes. In the past a cabinet of almost 30 people had proved unwieldy - any measure brought before such a body would be subject to a bewildering number of viewpoints each representing competing interests. In a cabinet of equals it was almost impossible to make decisions without some form of compromise. Hence the system of Cabinet sub-committees. Each subcommittee was limited to a few relevant and trusted ministers, and Peggy. Today the Prime Minister was meeting with her 'D' sub-committee, responsible for defence of the realm. Peggy wasn't really happy with the word 'realm' but the other substitutes that came to mind, 'union' and 'commonwealth' could be prone to misinterpretation. But for the moment there were more important things to consider than nomenclature. Denis Healey spoke briskly but his voice could not hide his underlying concern, "None of the three services can be said to be reliable. We are promoting the democratic officers as best we can but our best intelligence is that they are still outnumbered by likely Unisonists. Our position is marginally better in the Army than the RN or RAF but the Army presents the greatest threat against the popular government." Jennie Lee added that she was comfortable with the Chief Constables of the four largest cities but that it would take time to get reliable people in the other regions, police appointments having latterly been so devolved. During this period of transition is was vital to have a reliable army. Peggy pondered. Eventually there would have to be a new People's Army built entirely from scratch. In the meantime there would have to be... not a compromise, like those Stalinists in Moscow were always making but an intermediate step. "How about a purge?" she suggested.

The President was rapidly losing his temper with his hapless Secretary of Defense. "Do you understand what I'm saying, son?" "Absolutely, Mr President," said Bob. It was still 'Mr President' to his face although since September last year the whole White House was calling him 'Lyn' behind his back. "But our constitutional processes, our courts and our legislatures, are like an electronic computer. They have to be fed the right information to work properly. If we just..." "I'm asking you to feed 'em the right information, Bob," Lyn growled, "And the right information is that at no time have US forces targeted civilians." Garbage in, garbage out, thought Bob. Aloud, he said, "Mr President, even if I limited myself to deliberate targeting there's still ambiguity. In Vietnam, who is a civilian? The NLF have their own provisional government. Is an official of that..." Lyn broke into a paragraph of blistering Texan dialect. The gist of it was that Bob was to tell the congressional committee that US forces had never targeted civilians. If he couldn't do that he should, what was the word Bobby used, stonewall the committee. And then the half hour was over. It was time for Bobby to come and give his briefing about the rest of the Asia-Pacific region.

Jennie looked at Peggy as if the PM had just said something Stalinist in her own right. "A purge, Prime Minister?" "Indeed. Our armed forces are to defend the people and their government, the realm if you will. But at the moment they are a threat rather than a protection. And many of the servicemen are not even located in Britain, is that not so Denis?" "Yes, Prime Minister. We have many troops in Germany protecting Western Europe from the iron heel of Soviet error. And even with our withdrawal from Vietnam will still have considerable forces East of Suez - Malaysia, the Pacific islands, places like that." "Where they are not defending the realm?" asked Peggy. "Oh, we have interests there, Prime Minister," said Denis, airily. What those interests were, he couldn't say in detail. Foreign and Commonwealth Office matter, really. And the FCO weren't represented at the meeting of the 'D' sub-committee. "So," concluded Margaret, "If we withdrew from, as you say, East of the Suez, we could substantially reduce the army in size. Give the excess officers early retirements and take steps to ensure that the right officers are retired. "Yes, Prime Minister," chorused Denis and Jennie. Peggy pursed her lips. She hadn't finished speaking. It was so rude of people to interrupt her and they would not learn. On the other hand she had an extraordinary tolerance of people saying 'yes' to her so she let the matter slide.

For some reason Lyn still had a bee in his bonnet about Vietnam. The war was all but over, it was just a matter of getting the Politburo in Hanoi to see this. "I don't get it, Bobby," Lyn said, "You got Russia and Red China skirmishing over that river yet both sides are supporting Ho." "Ho's dead, sir," said Bobby as deferentially as he could manage, "Le Duan is the new Chairman". "Whoever," Lyn muttered, "So which of Russia and China do the Vietnamese favour?" "The Soviet Union," Bobby explained, "But many of the supplies Moscow sends are shipped through China." "So Russia and China are almost at war with each other and Russia's shipping arms through them?" asked Lyn. "Not only that, sir, but the Vietnamese believe that the Chinese are skimming some of the supplies for themselves." "Can't we ask Mao to stop the shipments? Do us a favour and we can do him one back?" Bobby was glad that he'd told Hank to stay away. Lyn's questions would have been sure to prompt one of the Security Adviser's little schemes. Hank was forever going on about the need for better relations with the PRC while studiously ignoring just what sort of man Mao Zhedong was. "Hank, the American public won't stand for it," Bobby had told him. "So don't tell them," was Hank's reply. That was Hank's problem - he could be insightful and at times brilliant but he lacked the intuitive understanding of transparency and democratic values that came so naturally to native born Americans. Besides, Lyn seemed distracted enough over Watershed. Limiting the President to a single channel of foreign policy advice prevented further distraction. "We're not in a position to engage in high level negotiations directly," said Bobby. "We'll have to go through a trusted ally." Normally they used Britain. Bobby glanced at the clock in the Oval Office. Time was getting away. He'd better mention Fiji. "It's not a domino, or anything, Mr President, but the CIA think Fiji is going to go Communist on independence." Lyn looked sharply up, "Didn't a lot of those African countries do just the same thing?" "Yes, Mr President. But it didn't last. Usually corruption, or coups, or tribalism ensured they made the transition to stable dictatorships. Often it didn't need our involvement at all. But Fiji's different. All those African nations had democratic elections at the outset. With Fiji, Communism is almost hard wired into the proposed constitution." Lyn's gaze became more critical, "A proposed constitution written by those Limeys you tell me are so democratic. Is there something wrong with the picture you've painted me?" Bobby spoke soothingly, "There's some residual Fabian socialism in the British Colonial Office, it's been like that for years. And with Lord Stansgate in charge," both men smiled at a shared memory, "that doesn't exactly help. But things aren't much different than they were under Prime Minister Butler. Do you remember how we thought that new Zimbabwe country was going to be Communist forever?" Both men smiled again. Suddenly Bobby was serious, Kennedy-grim. "I've spoken with John McCone. The agency will take steps to ensure Fiji has the same choices as other newly independent nations."

(Saturday, 21 March, 1970) The meeting with Lyn had been exactly as Peggy had expected. The First Secretary was old for a man in his mid-sixties and terribly set in his ways. Peggy also noted with disdain that the woman described as his 'personal physician' could not have been more than nineteen, although pretty in a bovine way. But things were a little more lively at the soiree she was hosting at the British embassy on the Smolenskaya Naberezhnaya. She had been addressing members of the politburo on the merits of Marxism. While other visitors had preached capitalism, Peggy's lecture was a novel experience for most of them. Only Gromyko could remember Hoxha's visit in 1953. Once the speech was over, the next pedagogic phase was showing the Soviet leadership how a proper G&T was made. While the throng was being served, Peggy found herself in discussion with a slim bespectacled fifty-something man with greying hair. "I used to think British Empire was in decline," he confessed, "But listening to you, lady Prime Minister, I am not so sure." "Thank you," said Peggy, "but there is no British Empire. My government is opposed to imperialism in all forms." "This is also the policy of the Russian SFSR. It is also the identical policy of the other 14 socialist republics of the USSR, our allies in the Warsaw Pact and the Mongolian People's Republic," he said without an apparent trace of irony. "If truth be told, I sometimes fear that Soviet Union is in decline, too. We have not the rigor we had in the early days, when Lenin and... the others led the Revolution. In my position I see statistics that suggest..." "Your position? I'm not sure we have been introduced," Peggy observed. "A thousand pardons, Prime Minister, I am Yuri." The spy-master, thought Peggy, nodding. "If I may just continue, lady Prime Minister, I have seen statistics that suggest that growth in my country is not what it might be, that drastic measures might have to be taken if we are ever to reach pure communism." What an interesting fellow, thought Peggy. This is a man with whom we could do business.

(Tuesday, 14 April, 1970) The House of Commons was packed. It was the first sitting day after Sir Keith Joseph had made the speech. All eyes were on Ted. Ted rather wished they weren't. He wasn't looking forward to doing what he had to do but he felt little choice in the matter. He hadn't spoken with his colleagues but he was sure they would follow him. Keith was an idiot. A compassionate idiot but an idiot nevertheless. The government had proposed legalising abortion. Most Conservative Associations were outraged and Ted could see their point of view. If a chap didn't want to be a father he shouldn't have sex with a woman in the first place. But Keith had proposed extending the existing access to abortion in limited circumstances, to a particular class of person. The class of person needing the concession being the teenage mother of lower socio-economic status for whom ongoing motherhood would see that particular class becoming demographically over-represented. That Keith had used the words 'swamped' and 'picaninny' made matters even worse. Ted, along with a number of Conservative elder statesmen had seen Enoch about the matter, explaining Sir Keith must be disciplined and seen to be disciplined. They had left thinking they had Enoch's agreement. Then last Friday the Opposition Leader had given a television interview, the essence of which was 'boys will be boys'. It had made headlines in all the Sundays. People had stopped talking about the damage Benn and her crew were doing to the country and instead were roasting the Conservatives for the harm they were doing to the fabric of society. There was no mechanism for getting a leader, mid parliament, to step down, other than moral suasion. And Ted knew that wouldn't work on Enoch. But it was now impossible to stay in the same party led by Enoch until 1974. So Ted stood up and gave his personal explanation. "It is with a heavy heart that I have to say this," Ted began, "But the Conservative and Unionist party is not the party I began serving twenty years ago. Its leadership today is not the leadership it has enjoyed over the years. I look at the Right Honourable gentlemen leading the party," if Ted's head turned it was an undetectable flicker, "and I look at the Honourable gentleman on my left," Ted now turned to Jeremy Thorpe, the leader of the Liberal party, further down the opposition benches who was looking like a man who had just made the final payment on his hovercraft, "and I ask myself who is more like me? Who better holds to the principles of Disraeli and Churchill and Butler that I have always held? Who can I trust not to say one thing and do another? For me I have no choice if I am to continue to serve my country and my constituents in Bexley." Ted flounced down to Liberals' seating in the certain knowledge that dozens of his colleagues would shortly follow. He sat ostentatiously next to Jeremy, Cyril having already moved one place along. Jeremy's eyes were shining with the vision of a Liberal revival that had come at last.

(Thursday, 16 July, 1970) Jimmy felt like the Great White Father. He had come all the way to Suva to negotiate the final arrangements, as to have asked these simple but honest folk to come all the way to London would have been too patronising. The weather was surprisingly temperate for a tropical island in the height of summer. Not that Fiji was a single island. There were two major islands and almost a hundred smaller inhabited ones. Viti Levu, which Jimmy was on, and Vanua Levu for some reason reminded him of West and East Falkland islands. The national anthem was a sticking point. Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara wanted 'God Bless Fiji'. But the strident monotheism of this was offensive to the substantial minority who were Hindus. The even smaller minority of Muslims were also displeased because the God in question appeared to have many of the characteristics of the Christian God. Only the largest minority, the Methodists, were pleased. The Ratu said he spoke for this minority although there were a handful of delegates from the Fijian Labour Party who were Methodists also. There was a serious need for compromise and this was an environment that saw Jimmy at his best. "Why don't we adopt an anthem that we can all agree upon, with which we will all be happy?" he asked. It was clearly interpreted as a rhetorical question for it was met with silence. "What if the anthem doesn't mention God but feels if it might?" The Ratu had to ask, "Whatever can you mean?" "Suppose the anthem doesn't mention God but still sounds like a non-conformist hymn. I don't know, something with a first line like, 'Fiji, My Fiji, How Beautiful Thou Art'?" The delegates looked at each other then stared back at Jimmy. "So you'll think about it? Good. It's getting late, we'd better resume tomorrow. 9 o'clock everyone?" It was only a question but Jimmy knew that, coming from the Great White Chief, they'd take it as an order. He'd be seeing some of the others later that night, the Ratu had offered to introduce him to kava. [If you'll just let me continue.]