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"His sternness, his insistence on punctuality in work and battle, the
inflexible correctness of his demeanour in a period of general slackness...
the political solutions prescribed by him for current difficulties struck me
as proceeding from a character that was basically dictatorial."
- Victor Serge, writing about Leo in Memoirs of a Revolutionary
(Tuesday, 28 April 1992)
It was a slow afternoon in the tea room. Lady Margaret Wedgwood-Benn, the
Baroness Thaxted was sitting at a table with Lord Powell of Wolverhampton,
who was currently going on about how many languages he knew and why
President Kennedy should just leave the Middle East alone.
The 1990s were a strange decade. She's not at all sure Jimmy would have
enjoyed them, had he still been alive. He'd passed away three years ago.
It seemed one couldn't drink pint mugs of vodka on a consistent basis and
expect to escape any ill effects. In the end, not even the NHS could save
him.
In the final months he'd moved away from mid sixties bubble gum pop and
rediscovered earlier, more classic, music. She'd bought him one of those
cassette recorders to have in his ward. On one of the last visits he'd
called her over to listen to a song.
Once in every lifetime,
Comes a love like this.
I need you,
You need me,
Oh my darling... [1]
Enoch now seemed to be talking about the Prime Minister. Peggy was
recalling the last Prime Minister. Neil! That Judas! He was part of the
Programme, one of us. And then the stab-in-the-back. Once Prime Minister
he had shown his true colours - a Luxemburger. He was frit! Frit that he
might lose the election. So he was ready to find a common interest with
progressives of any stripe. But that way led to compromise, to U-turns.
She rejoiced when he lost in 1991. Yes, the hated Tories had won but it
meant Labour could have a re-birth.
Only Ken represented not so much re-birth as after-birth. He could be sound
on some issues but he lacked gravitas. Even 'Private Eye' made fun of him.
The tide of history would not be kind to him.
"And that wife of his!" Enoch was still complaining about the PM. They
belonged to the same party but the new man did not see eye-to-eye with the
Tory elder statesman. Enoch, like so many others, still mourned Hezza and
deeply regretted his heart attack.
Peggy couldn't see too much wrong with the PM's wife, other than he was a
woman of the ruling class. Well the name was a little unfortunate.
'Nigella'. How badly had her father wanted a son? And a few of the
Conservatives muttered about her Jewishness. Some even speculated that her
husband was considering converting to Judaism. Peggy thought it unlikely.
Ladbrokes generally had their ear to the ground. The turf accountants had a
book on the next Archbishop of Canterbury, an office in the PM's gift. Of
all the candidates to replace the Rt Revd David Jenkins the 100-1 longshot
remained Rabbi Lionel Blue.
But she could afford to feel relaxed about the PM. Revolutionary Britain
had not ended on that Friday in October back in 1980. The pace had slowed
but the revolution continued. Many of the things she had established: the
property-sharing democracy, the culture of co-operation, worker veto of
non-portfolio share transfer[2] and BNN had remained in place. Not even the
Tories would dare dismantle them. That much of the revolution was
permanent. And the revolution was being built in other countries.
The United Republics and their absurd 'Wedgwood-Bennism (non-Leninist)' had
collapsed in 1982 and good riddance. While President Nixon had claimed
credit for 'the fall of Russian Socialism' the American himself had actually
drawn on many of Peggy's ideas in his 'managed economy' or 'economic
management' as he alternately called it. His successor, had continued to
emulate Peggy's later policies. (No one seemed inclined to replicate her
experiment with M3 and, in hindsight, she did not blame them.)
Twenty-five years ago it had been the Keynsians that had been the keepers of
the economic orthodoxy. But economists, bless them, had flexible minds.
Trying to explain the success of Britain they had performed U-turns and
embraced the 'London School'. But there might be no more U-turns. Nobel
laureate Haavelmo was arguing "the end of economics" - that any further
discoveries in the field might only be at the margins.
And now there was the new PM who, if you could believe the Daily Telegraph,
had risen to power using a Programme structured not unlike Peggy's. A Tory
who was not merely retaining Peggy's policies out of Conservative inertia
but out of philosophy. He had conceived a 'middle way' between the
feudalism, liberal economics and fascism of the traditional Conservatism -
and Wedgwood-Bennism (Trotskite/ Schachtmanite) - combining the best
features of both.
Peggy recognised that this was not dialectic but dualism - having feet on
two trains, each going in opposite directions. But like other accidents,
there would be a certain fascination in watching. So she had come to
Westminster, to watch. And to contribute. If she praised the PM at the
expense of Ken... That would set cats among pigeons.
"I'm going to give a speech," she began.
"I hope you bore it up Anthony, that obnoxious little..."
"If you'll just let me finish...
[Finish.]
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