The Common Market
In the summer of 1961, after months of cautious soundings, the Macmillan Government finally announced Britain’s application to join the European Economic Community – the Common Market, as it was then universally known. This was the biggest decision in post-war politics, which determined – even though it was another decade before Britain’s third application was successful – the gradual redirection of British policy towards ever closer involvement with the Continent. In time, Mrs Thatcher as Prime Minister came to feel that this process had gone too far, and set herself to slow or even to reverse it. She felt no such doubts in 1961. In a characteristically thorough speech in her constituency on 14 August, she tackled the question of sovereignty head-on.
First she denied that Britain faced a choice between Europe and the Commonwealth, as many older Tories feared, arguing that the Commonwealth would only benefit from Britain being strong and prosperous. Besides, she frankly admitted, the Commonwealth was not the same as twenty or thirty years earlier: ‘Many of us do not feel quite the same allegiance to Archbishop Makarios or Doctor Nkrumah or to people like Jomo Kenyatta as we do towards Mr Menzies of Australia.’ Seldom has that point been more bluntly put.
Second, she warned that it was important to join the Community quickly in order to be able to help shape the Common Agricultural Policy. In fact it was already too late for that: the Six were pressing on deliberately to settle the CAP before Britain was admitted. But the principle she enunciated – that Britain needed to be in at the beginning of future developments – was an important one whose truth did not diminish.
Third, and most crucially, Mrs Thatcher faced up to fears of loss of sovereignty and national identity and dismissed them as groundless. Britain already belonged to alliances – principally NATO – which limited her independence. These were an exercise of national sovereignty, not a derogation of it.
Sovereignty and independence are not ends in themselves. It is no good being independent in isolation if it involves running down our economy and watching other nations outstrip us both in trade and influence… France and Germany have attempted to sink their political differences and work for a united Europe. If France can do this so can we.8
What is remarkable about this statement, in retrospect, is its unblinking acceptance of the political dimension of a united Europe and Britain’s proper place within it. Yet it only reflected the common assumption of British politicians in the early 1960s – and still in the early 1970s – that Britain would be joining the Community in order to lead Europe, or at least to share in the joint leadership. It was the confidence that Britain would still be a great power within Europe – indeed a greater power as part of Europe – which allowed them to contemplate with equanimity the loss, or pooling, of formal sovereignty. It is a striking illustration of this confidence that even so ardent a nationalist as Margaret Thatcher felt no qualms in 1961 on the subject which exercised her so furiously thirty years later.
Pensions minister
Less than two months later she was invited to join the Government as joint Parliamentary Secretary at the Ministry of Pensions and National Insurance (MPNI). The offer had come a little sooner than she would have liked, when the twins were only eight; but she knew that in politics, ‘when you’re offered a job you either accept it or you’re out’, so she accepted.9 It was an exceptionally rapid promotion – equal first of the 1959 intake. Probably Macmillan and his Chief Whip simply wanted another woman to replace Patricia Hornsby-Smith in what was regarded as a woman’s job. But their choice made Mrs Thatcher the youngest woman and the first mother of young children ever appointed to ministerial office.
She stayed in the Ministry of Pensions and National Insurance for three years, longer than she might have wished in one department; but it was a good department in which to serve her ministerial apprenticeship. The nature of the work suited her perfectly. Though she knew next to nothing about social security when she arrived, she quickly set herself to master both the principles of the system and the immensely complex detail. With her tidy mind – honed by both chemistry and law – and her inexhaustible appetite for paperwork, she rapidly achieved a rare command of both aspects which enabled her to handle individual cases confidently within a clear framework of policy. The MPNI was not a department where a minister – certainly not a junior minister – had large executive decisions to take, rather a mass of tiny decisions investigating grievances and correcting anomalies across the whole range of benefits and human circumstances. Three years of this gave Mrs Thatcher a close working knowledge of the intricacies of the welfare system which – since she never forgot anything once she had learned it – became a formidable part of her armoury twenty years later (though much of her detailed knowledge was by then out of date).
Her first minister was John Boyd-Carpenter, a pugnacious character who had been at the MPNI since 1955. ‘He was a marvellous teacher,’ she later recalled, ‘fantastic man, total command of his department.’10 He won her undying gratitude by coming down to meet her at the door the first morning she turned up bright and early at the department just off the Strand. This gallantry made such an impression on her that she made a point of extending the same courtesy to her own juniors at the Department of Education ten years later.
In her memoirs she conceded that generally ‘the calibre of officials I met impressed me’.11 Yet the enduring lesson she took from her time at the MPNI was that civil servants have their own agenda. She was shocked to catch them offering advice to Boyd-Carpenter’s successors which they would not have dared to offer him because they knew he would not take it. ‘I decided then and there that when I was in charge of a department I would insist on an absolutely frank assessment of all the options from any civil servants who would report to me.’12 Whether this always happened in Downing Street in the 1980s is debatable, but Mrs Thatcher never had any doubt of the need to show her officials very quickly who was boss. Even as a junior minister she always wanted the fullest possible briefing. On one occasion she found herself unable to answer a series of deliberately arcane questions put by her Labour shadow, Douglas Houghton, to catch her out. She was furious and told her officials that it must never happen again. It never did.13
In July 1962, when Macmillan sacked a third of his Cabinet in an ill-judged effort to revive his faltering Government, Boyd-Carpenter was finally promoted. His successor at the MPNI was Niall Macpherson, who in turn was replaced the following year by Richard Wood. Both were much milder personalities than Boyd-Carpenter. The result was that Mrs Thatcher, though still only joint Parliamentary Secretary in charge of National Insurance and National Assistance, was allowed to assume a much more dominant role within the Department than is usual for a junior minister.
Her finest moment in the 1959 Parliament came on the day following Macmillan’s culling of his Cabinet. The House met in a state of shock. By chance the first business was questions to the Minister of Pensions; but Boyd-Carpenter had been promoted to the Cabinet as Chief Secretary to the Treasury and his successor at the MPNI had not yet been named. Into the breach stepped the two joint Parliamentary Secretaries. Of fifteen questions tabled, Mrs Thatcher answered fourteen. It was not simply the fact that she answered, but the way she did it, that made an impact. ‘Amid the gloom and depression of the Government benches’, one observer wrote, ‘she alone radiated confidence, cheerfulness and charm.’14 It was a performance of exceptional composure under pressure.