The Prime Minister spoke next. He began his reply in a surprising way:
I congratulate the Right Honourable lady on a most effective parliamentary performance. It was in the best manner of our debates and the style in which it was delivered was one of which the Right Honourable lady can be proud.
It was a good start. But all that the Prime Minister then had to offer in the body of his speech were further concessions to the unions — exemptions from the 5 per cent pay limit, tighter price controls and extension of the principle of ‘comparability’, under which public sector workers could expect more money. All these were intended as inducements to the unions to sign up to a new pay policy. But he signally failed to address what everyone except the far Left considered the main problem, excessive trade union power.
To my offer the Prime Minister made no direct reply. He had clearly been wrong-footed. The question now was whether I should repeat the offer the following evening in our Party Political Broadcast — or limit myself to attacking the Government’s paralysis and pledging that a Conservative Government would reform trade union law.
I was still uneasy, and toughened the script when I saw it the following day. But after all, the offer had already been made, and the higher the profile we gave it, the more tightly it would bind reluctant colleagues and the more public support we would gain. So we went ahead, filming it in my room at the House of Commons. Again, the Government made no direct reply.
In any case, by now the whole political atmosphere had been transformed. From trailing the Labour Party by several percentage points in the opinion polls before my interview with Brian Walden, we had now opened up a twenty-point lead. From being a liability, our perceived willingness to take on the trade union militants had become an advantage. Within the Shadow Cabinet, the opposition from people like Jim Prior and Ian Gilmour to the approach which Keith Joseph, Geoffrey Howe and I wanted was effectively silenced — for the time being at least. Personally, I was conscious that in some strange way I was instinctively speaking and feeling in harmony with the great majority of the population. Such moments are as unforgettable as they are rare. They must be seized to change history.
THE FALL OF THE GOVERNMENT
But now Banquo’s ghost came back to haunt the Labour Government. Devolution, which they had embraced solely as a means of staying in power with support from the Scottish and Welsh Nationalists, returned to grimace and gibber at Jim Callaghan at his lowest point. Following the defeat of the Scotland and Wales Bill in early 1977 Labour had reintroduced devolution legislation in the form of separate Bills for Scotland and Wales, with provision for referenda in each country before they came into effect. Backbench dissent on their own side led to the passage of a number of amendments, including the crucial additional requirement that a minimum of 40 per cent of those eligible to vote had to support devolution in each case. Although I had not publicly campaigned for a ‘No’ vote in the referenda in Scotland and Wales, that was the result I wanted. When the vote took place on 1 March 1979 in Scotland a bare majority of those voting was in favour — well below the required 40 per cent of the total electorate — and in Wales a large majority of those who voted rejected the proposal. For the moment, devolution was dead: I did not mourn it.
From this point on it seemed likely, though not certain, that the Government would be unable to continue in office; but the circumstances under which a general election would occur were far from predictable. The Prime Minister sought desperately to spin out discussion about devolution rather than go ahead immediately with the repeal of the Devolution Acts. But his potential allies were preparing to desert. The SNP now had no reason to keep Labour in office and wanted an early confidence motion. The Liberals were keen on an early election, even though their standing in the opinion polls was weak; this was principally in order to avoid the embarrassment of the forthcoming trial of their former Leader, Jeremy Thorpe, on a charge of conspiracy to murder, of which he was later acquitted. Admittedly, the Welsh Nationalists, who were more of a socialist party than their Scottish equivalents, might still be persuadable.
That meant that the Northern Irish MPs — ten Ulster Unionists, one member of the Social Democratic and Liberal Party (SDLP) and one Independent Republican — were likely to be decisive. Gerry Fitt, the SDLP Member, had been alienated from the Government by their attempts to court the Ulster Unionists with additional seats for the Province. Frank Maguire, the Independent Republican, was entirely unpredictable. A majority of the Ulster Unionists had been prepared to keep the Government in office until the legislation increasing the representation of Northern Ireland had passed through Parliament: but this it had done by 15 March. There was now much public talk of Unionist demands for a gas pipeline to link the Province to the natural gas network on the mainland and the strengthening of local government powers in Northern Ireland as the price of their support for either of the two parties. Airey Neave, who had by now established close personal links with a number of the Unionists, was responsible for the discussions on our side.
Many of our backbenchers wanted an early confidence motion, but initially the Shadow Cabinet held its fire. One reason was that we would need the support of anti-devolution Labour MPs to make absolutely sure that the order repealing the Devolution Acts went through; we did not quite trust the Government on this question. Moreover, unlike previous occasions when there had seemed a possibility of bringing down the Government in a vote in the House of Commons, we were extremely reluctant to put down a Motion of No Confidence until we were assured of its likely success. A Government victory would strengthen it at a bad time. When we considered the matter at Shadow Cabinet on Wednesday 21 March we decided, indeed, that we would not move such a motion unless the SNP, the Liberals and, if possible, the Welsh Nationalists gave firm assurances of support. But there was still no question, as far as I was concerned, of doing deals which would tie my hands in government.
On Thursday 22 March the Prime Minister made a last effort to keep devolution alive and win over the SNP, making a parliamentary statement offering yet more talks and following it with a Prime Ministerial broadcast that evening. He never had any real chance of success, and when assurances of SNP and Liberal support for our motion seemed to be forthcoming — though there was none from the Welsh Nationalists — I agreed that it should be tabled, which was done a little before 7 p.m. The Conservative Whips now went all out to persuade the minority parties to see that their less reliable members actually joined us in the lobbies. Equally important, of course, was ensuring that there was a full turn-out of Conservative MPs. Luckily, none was seriously ill — though one Member’s car overturned on the motorway as he was driving down and another insisted on voting for us though he had been shattered by the death of his wife the previous day.
Oddly enough, the most intractable problem that evening was caused by the strike of catering staff at the Palace of Westminster. Not even the most blood-curdling threats by the Whips could prevent Tory MPs drifting off to their clubs or to the Savoy for something to eat. Willie Whitelaw and I dined in the Chief Whip’s office with Humphrey Atkins and his colleagues off the contents of two large hampers brought back by Spencer Le Marchant and Tony Berry from Fortnums. But I could not summon up much appetite. The opening speeches of the debate itself had gone, I felt, more or less as expected — neither was a triumph of oratory. But sitting around our improvised supper table, Willie, Humphrey and I knew that the result, on which so much hung, was too close to call. Perhaps because they really felt that way, or perhaps because they did not want to raise my spirits to have them dashed by the narrowest of defeats, I had the impression that they thought the Government would somehow manage once again to survive. In my heart of hearts, I thought so too.