Even in 1978 I had felt that we could do better than this. I had insisted that there must be a right of appeal to the courts if someone was unfairly excluded or expelled from their union. But in 1979 we went significantly further by dropping the formula about the closed shop being objectionable but inevitable and making a clear commitment to change the law. Existing employees and ‘those with personal conviction’ (a weasel phrase but still unavoidable in the circumstances) ‘must be adequately protected, and if they lose their jobs as a result of the closed shop they must be entitled to adequate compensation’. The manifesto also promised an enquiry into the coercive recruitment practices of the SLADE printing union.[58] Additionally we made it clear that the code of practice would have statutory force.
But the main change of substance related to picketing. In 1978 I had gone along with what Jim Prior wanted, which was not very much: ‘In consultation with all parties, we must find acceptable means to regulate the conduct of picketing. The strict arrangements adopted by the NUM in February 1974 could provide a sensible basis for this.’
There was no mention even of a code of practice, let alone legislation. It was also, in retrospect, not particularly wise to remind voters directly of the occasion when the previous Conservative Government had been broken by the miners’ strike. Thankfully, the shocking scenes of the Winter of Discontent ensured that this feeble approach was now out of touch with reality and people’s expectations. We now promised to make secondary picketing unlawful and to review trade union immunities. Moreover, there was the clear suggestion that we would be prepared to take further legislative steps if these proved necessary: ‘We shall also make any further changes that are necessary so that a citizen’s right to work and to go about his or her lawful business free from intimidation or obstruction is guaranteed.’
Two other new provisions were inserted between the 1978 and 1979 texts: one was the promise to ‘seek to conclude no-strike agreements in a few essential services’ (which in fact came to nothing), and the other to ‘ensure that unions bear their fair share of the cost of supporting those of their members who are on strike’, which we later implemented. Together with the limited proposals to ease the effects of the closed shop and equally modest proposals to finance postal ballots for union elections and other important issues, these constituted our package of trade union reform. I was very happy with it: indeed, it would turn out that I was far more confident not just in its practicality but also its popularity than some of my colleagues.
By contrast with my victory over the position on trade unions, I scored no better than a draw on incomes policy. On this question, of course, I could not place my usual reliance on Geoffrey Howe who had developed a fatal attraction for the so-called ‘forum’.
In 1978 I had argued that we should be clearer about our intention to break away from incomes policies, suggesting that instead of asserting (as proposed) that ‘the return to flexibility will take time, but it cannot be postponed for ever’, the last phrase should be replaced by ‘but it must start without delay’. And I did not even win this small point.
In 1979 the manifesto contained, indeed, a somewhat more explicit allusion to the ‘forum’, even mentioning the German model. But this I could live with. Of more practical importance, there was a strongly worded promise to avoid incomes policies in the private sector: ‘Pay bargaining in the private sector should be left to the companies and workers concerned. At the end of the day, no one should or can protect them from the results of the agreements they make.’
That left one particularly thorny aspect of incomes policy to be grasped in the public sector. The Prime Minister’s offer in January 1979 of new machinery to establish ‘comparability’ between the public and private sectors led to the setting up of a commission under Professor Hugh Clegg to take evidence and make recommendations which, of course, the Government committed itself to honour — after the election. Inevitably, when the election campaign began we were pressed to define our attitude. The question, in effect, was whether we would agree to pick up the bill (size unknown) for Labour’s efforts to buy off the public sector unions.
Our policy for public sector pay had always been based on the strict application of cash limits. Geoffrey Howe and I did our best to stick to that, but there was intense pressure from colleagues and the Party, frankly concerned not to lose vital votes. And so finally we yielded and pledged ourselves to implement Professor Clegg’s recommendations. It was an expensive but unavoidable commitment.[59]
In general, however, I was happy with the manifesto, both as regards contents and style. It contained a coherent philosophy and a limited number of clearly defined pledges. And it passed the most important final test, namely that at no stage in the campaign did we have to modify or retreat from it.
I was to fight three general elections as Leader of the Conservative Party; and each one was different. The 1983 campaign was perhaps the easiest; the 1987 campaign was certainly the most emotionally fraught; but the general election of 1979 was the most challenging both for me and the Party. I never had any illusion that if we lost or even if we failed to win an overall majority I would be given another chance. I accepted this fact and was even prepared to speak about it openly. Personally, I had little doubt that it was also a watershed for the Conservative Party and for Britain.
Unlike some Conservatives, I did not believe that the taming of the Left of the Labour Party would prove anything other than temporary if Labour won an overall majority. The Left knew what it wanted and was prepared to bide its time so as to obtain it. I never put any faith in the resolve or abilities of the ‘centre’. I agreed with Keith Joseph that the ‘centre’ ground of politics had moved steadily leftwards, and I attributed this principally to the lack of moral courage of those who prided themselves upon being ‘moderates’. Time and again these people had been prepared to compromise and adjust their positions; and, as a result, socialism had continued its onward march through our institutions. This march, I believed, had more or less reached its point of no return. So many people and so many vested interests were by now significantly dependent on the state — for employment in the public sector, for Social Security benefits, for health care, education and housing — that economic freedom had begun to pose an almost unacceptable risk to their living standards. And, when that finally happened, political freedom — for example the freedom to join or not to join a union or the freedom to have controversial views and still be entitled to teach in a state school or work in a government department — would be the next victim. Moreover, the advance of communism abroad and the retreat of the West before it was helping to sap the morale of those who wished to oppose collectivism at home.
The 1979 campaign was also different in a number of other ways. It was the first time that the Conservative Party had ever fought so clearly on the theme that it was ‘time for a change’. Implicit in this approach was that Britain had been in retreat for much more than the years since 1974; the 1970–74 Conservative Government, however bravely it had started out, had been part of that retreat. I therefore believed that we should be bold in explaining precisely what had gone wrong and why radical action was required to put it right. I was soon to be aware, however, that this was not how Peter Thorneycroft and Central Office in general saw things. Their belief was that we should at all costs avoid ‘gaffes’, which meant in practice almost anything controversial — in particular, attacks on trade union power — in the belief that the Labour Party was already sufficiently discredited to lose the election. In fact, with a few concessions, I insisted on doing it my way. But this led to tensions.
58
See The Downing Street Years, p. 102n. The report showed that SLADE had been using its strength in the printing industry to recruit among freelance artists, photographic studios and advertising agencies by threatening to ‘black’ the printing of their work unless they joined the union. The report’s conclusion was that the union had acted ‘without any regard whatever to the feelings, interests, or welfare of the prospective recruits’.