The Path to Power m-2

by Margaret Thatcher

  Neighbouring Spain was more fortunate, enjoying a more or less smooth transition from dictatorship after General Franco’s death in November 1975. There, doubtless observing the Portuguese resistance offered to too blatant an attempt to seize power, the Spanish Communist Party from the date of its legalization in 1977 preferred to emulate its Italian and French counterparts by adopting the disguise of ‘Euro-communism’. I always considered Eurocommunism as a tactical ploy to be understood in very much the same way as, to take an earlier parallel, the Popular Fronts in the 1930s. It did indeed show a recognition of the force of liberal public opinion and foreshadowed the coming collapse of communism’s internal self-confidence. But it did not represent any abandonment of the essential goals of Marxism-Leninism. Of course, the only ‘proof’ of this could be found in an assessment of the real attitudes and intentions of the Euro-communist leaderships. But in any case the effect of any advance by Euro-communists was to reduce the willingness and ability of the West to meet the growing Soviet threat; for it would have been unpardonably irresponsible to assume that any government in which a Communist Party shared power could be depended upon in a crisis.

  I made these points wherever I went in Europe. But I did so with particular force when I addressed the West German Christian Democrat Union (CDU) Party Conference in Hanover on Tuesday 25 May 1976:

  In some European countries we now see communist parties dressed in democratic clothes and speaking with soft voices. Of course, we hope that their oft-proclaimed change of heart is genuine. But every child in Europe knows the story of Little Red Riding Hood and what happened to her in her grandmother’s cottage in the forest. Despite the new look of these communist parties, despite the softness of their voices, we should be on the watch for the teeth and appetite of the wolf.

  It was clear to me from the uproarious applause which greeted this remark that Little Red Riding Hood had a cousin somewhere in the Black Forest.

  I had been keen to visit West Germany for several reasons. It was, of course, right on the frontier of freedom in Europe at a time when the perimeter of freedom globally was steadily contracting. The West’s strategy for defence depended to an important degree upon the policies of West Germany’s political leaders and the will of the West German people. Konrad Adenauer and his successor Chancellors of the German Federal Republic had staunchly resisted the blandishments and threats of the Soviet Union and its East German satellite. But Willi Brandt’s Ostpolitik, the hidden agenda of which was German reunification on Eastern terms, had shaken many assumptions. It had the unintended effects of promoting neutralist attitudes in West Germany (including in the ruling SPD) and of endorsing the legitimacy of the governments in Eastern Europe. Doubts about Ostpolitik and the soundness of the SPD lingered on, in spite of the robustness of Willi Brandt’s successor Helmut Schmidt, who soon set about strengthening Atlantic links with his call for NATO’s stationing of American intermediate-range nuclear missiles in Europe. In turn, Helmut Schmidt conceived an increasing distrust for the meanderings of US foreign policy under Jimmy Carter.

  The other reason I was eager to make the trip was the importance of the CDU itself, which was, with the Conservatives, the other largest right-of-centre European party. The idea of setting up a joint organization — what became the EDU — originally came from the Austrian (Christian Democrat) People’s Party leader, Alois Mock. But the Germans and ourselves were bound to be the two key elements in it. Although I was later to discover the important differences between the German Christian Democrat and British Conservative traditions, these were not nearly as great as those between Christian Democrats in countries like Italy or Belgium and ourselves. In Germany the social-market approach pioneered by Ludwig Erhard had imposed a more free-enterprise orientation than on most other Christian Democrat parties, which remained heavily confessional and usually somewhat directionless in economics.

  My first visit to West Germany as Leader was from Thursday 26 June to Saturday 28 June 1975. That first Thursday evening at the British Ambassador’s residence in Bonn my mind was focused, however, on what was happening back home, where the count for the Woolwich West by-election was under way. Unlike my predecessors, I had decided to campaign personally in by-elections, which carried risks but which was an advantage when things went well, as they did on this occasion, for we won the seat on a swing of 7.6 per cent. Since, as usual, the Party was strapped for cash, I was not accompanied by a press officer and, knowing this, Gordon Reece had advised me what to say and do in the event of the expected success. We agreed that I would say something on the lines of ‘This is the first step on the road to the end of socialism,’ and then I would make a Churchillian victory sign — all the more appropriate since I was in Germany. Gordon did not consider coaching me in the gesture itself. So when, the following day, I was asked to comment on the result I smiled and raised two fingers, unfortunately the wrong way round, which was taken by delighted cameramen as an expression of lighthearted if vulgar contempt for the Labour Party rather than satisfaction with our own success.

  Later that day I had my first meeting with the socialist Chancellor Helmut Schmidt. By the end of our discussion I was concluding that he was a good deal less socialist than some members of my own Shadow Cabinet, two impressions which did not diminish as the years went by. We did, though, disagree about the role of trade unions. On the basis of German experience, Helmut Schmidt could not understand why in Britain we did not just get all the union leaders around a table and work things out sensibly. I pointed out that thanks to the reforms which the British occupying power had made in the structure of German trade unions after the war, reducing their number and making them industry-based rather than craft-based, this was a practical possibility in Bonn. In London a small stadium would be required. (My knowledge of these reforms was due to Paul Chambers, the British member of the Control Commission which had run the Western sectors of Germany during the Allied occupation: I had known him since the 1960s.) I was tempted to add that most British trade union leaders, unlike their German equivalents, were at least as interested in socialist politics as sensible wage bargaining. But I decided that could wait for another occasion.

  A late lunch had been arranged for me by my CDU hosts. The three German celebrities present were Helmut Kohl, the CDU leader and Chancellor-candidate for the following year’s federal elections, Kurt Biedenkopf, the CDU General Secretary and — most celebrated of all — Ludwig Erhard, the great German Finance Minister of the 1950s and sixties. I had had some discussions with Helmut Kohl earlier in the day. My first impression was that he was amiable and instinctively sound on the important issues. But neither of us spoke the other’s language and our discussion tended, therefore, to be somewhat halting. For the next decade, however, we were to be broadly on the same wavelength on the East-West issues that dominated European politics. Professor Biedenkopf was a more cosmopolitan character, fluent to a fault, deeply intelligent and extraordinarily energetic. He bubbled with ideas and reflections so that I found it difficult to get a word in. He was plainly determined, as I was, that when his party returned to power it would do so with a cohesive and well thought-out programme for government. Ludwig Erhard had by this time retired from any involvement in active politics, but apparently he had heard that my politics (and economics) were sufficiently different (that is to say similar to his own) to make a discussion appealing. I was glad to discover that the former Chancellor, as well as being the architect of German prosperity, had a considerable presence and shrewdness. He asked me a number of searching questions about my economic approach, at the end of which he seemed satisfied. I felt I had performed well in an important tutorial. In their different ways these three men symbolized the considerable strengths of German Christian Democracy and I went away feeling that our two parties, both in opposition but both preparing for power, had much in common.

  My reception on my next visit the following year at the CDU Conference, which I have already described, in part confirmed this. B
ut I could never quite adjust to the style of West German politics which I witnessed there. Successive speakers approached the microphone and, from an inch or two away, bellowed into it at great length. The technique for evoking applause appeared to be to shout at such volume that words were lost amid the crackling of overstrained loudspeakers. Neither a Conservative Party Conference, nor in all probability Conservative Central Office equipment, would have stood it.

  Meanwhile, discussions between European conservative and Christian Democrat parties continued about the formation of the EDU. I tried to persuade the less enthusiastic parties, nervous of being seen as right-wing in countries where a tradition of coalition governments had blunted principled politics. In December 1976 I visited The Hague for talks with Dutch politicians — an occasion of longer-term personal importance to me because this was when I first met Ruud Lubbers, the then Economics Minister and future Prime Minister with whom in the years to come I was to strike up a mutually beneficial friendship. I also spoke to the British Chamber of Commerce there:

  I am anxious that… there should be a closer cooperation between like-minded political parties across the Community. Of course I understand that history has put difficulties in our way… Nevertheless, I feel sure that as we examine our policies we will find that the common ground is much greater than we supposed at the outset.

  In June 1977 I paid a flying visit to Rome. This too resulted in some valuable contacts and discussions, notably with the grand old man of Christian Democracy, Professor Amintore Fanfani, and also with one of Italy’s most clever and effective Finance Ministers, Filippo Pandolfi. My visit concluded with a private audience with Pope Paul VI — my first experience of the Vatican. These are always very private occasions. With Pope Paul VI and later with Pope John Paul II I discussed Northern Ireland; and with John Paul II, whose election as Pope has always struck me as providential, I held in addition a discussion about the irreligious nature of communism and the challenge it presented to Christian statesmanship. It is no secret that I greatly admire the role played by John Paul II in the liberation of his country, Poland, and of the other countries of Eastern Europe from the legions of communists that proved no match for his spiritual authority.

  In public speeches on this visit I called for the involvement of the Italian Christian Democrats in the nascent EDU: I recognized that the word ‘conservative’ had a different and pejorative significance in Italy, but urged my hosts to consider instead the reality of our similar policies. I made the point in person to Aldo Moro, then the Christian Democrat party leader. He was an aloof, academic figure on the left of his party, and I did not feel he was very sympathetic to what I was saying. Alas, there was no occasion to return to the subject, for within a year Signor Moro was kidnapped and murdered.

  In retrospect, I can see that the Italians were quite right in thinking that they and we saw the world very differently. Christian Democracy served a useful purpose in many European countries, where it was important for all shades of moderate opinion to combine in order to resist fascism and communism. Catholic social teaching provided a valuable framework — for Protestants as well — in societies where no strong secular centre-right political tradition existed. The trouble was that, whatever their merits as a view of life, such ideas were not in themselves sufficient to give an ideological basis for the practical policies required in the late twentieth century. This was particularly true of economic policy, where anything from full-blooded free enterprise on the one hand to corporatism on the other could be dressed up in the language of Christian Democracy. Some Christian Democrat parties, like the German CDU, have gone at least part of the way towards making up for such deficiencies by adopting free-market rhetoric (if not always free-market policies). Others, like the Italian Christian Democrats, have gone the way of all dinosaurs. Christian Democracy has also shown itself incapable of shedding light on the great question of the post-Cold War world — the long-term relationship between nation states and supra-national institutions. I conclude that however much individual Christian Democrats may command our respect and deserve our support, Conservatives have little to learn from them.

  In any case, Christian Democrat and conservative parties from Austria, Denmark, Finland, Germany, Iceland, Norway, Portugal, Sweden and Britain did agree to found the European Democratic Union. I was present at the launch in Salzburg in April 1978. Among other party leaders there were Helmut Kohl and Franz Josef Strauss — the leader of the Bavarian Christian Social Union (CSU) and, after Herr Kohl’s narrow defeat in the elections in October 1976, the Chancellor-candidate of the German right. The contrast between the two of them interested me. Both were very large and very German. But Herr Strauss was a mercurial intellectual, had a lively wit and was an accomplished orator. He also lacked Helmut Kohl’s caution and, when pitted against Helmut Schmidt, his impulsiveness, and a not altogether deserved reputation for extremism later defeated him. It was a glittering occasion at the Klessheim Castle and the Austrians, whose brainchild the EDU was, were magnificent hosts. And for me it was also a useful platform at an important time.

  As I have mentioned, the third pressing European question was the role of the countries of the Community in East–West relations. Although this issue preoccupied me from soon after my becoming Leader, I only tackled it directly on one occasion — in a speech, drafted with the help of Hugh Thomas, to the Grandes Conferences Catholiques in Brussels on Friday 23 June 1978. The theme was ‘Principles of Foreign Policy’, covering a wide canvas, including the need to advance democracy throughout the world so as to reduce the risk of war. But the part of the speech which received greatest attention concerned the political role of the European Community. I did not regard the EEC as merely an economic entity: it had a wider strategic purpose. As a zone of democracy, stability and prosperity adjoining Soviet-dominated Eastern Europe, it was both a showcase for the Western way of life and a magnet drawing politicians and peoples away from communism. Moreover, Western European countries should not be tempted to govern their relations with the Soviet Union and its satellites on economic grounds alone, but rather with full regard to the effects of technology transfer and cheap credits in oiling the Russian war machine.

  We must see our relationships with the Soviet Union as a whole. The supply by the West of credit, grain and technology; the negotiation of different aspects of security and disarmament; Soviet and satellite activities in Africa, Asia and the Pacific are all features of one landscape. Unless we learn, as the Soviet Union has learned, to look at the landscape as a whole we shall be consistently out-manoeuvred.

  In order to grasp how we had arrived at such a pass it is necessary to consider the East-West balance more generally.

  EAST-WEST

  One of the first foreign statesmen I met after becoming Leader was Henry Kissinger, President Gerald Ford’s Secretary of State. Over the years my respect for Dr Kissinger steadily grew and — though starting from different perspectives — our analysis of international events increasingly converged. At this time, however, I was uneasy about the direction of Western policy towards the Soviet Union, of which he was acknowledged to be the impresario.

  I did indeed recognize the importance of the ‘opening to China’ achieved under Richard Nixon in the power-play with the Soviets. It was a crucial element of victory in the Cold War to detach China permanently from the Soviet Union. As for ‘linkage’ — that is to recognize the links between one issue and another in bilateral relations between states, in Henry Kissinger’s own words ‘to create a network of incentives and penalties to produce the most favourable outcome’[46] — I took the view that its prospects had been undermined by President Nixon’s domestic weakness induced by Watergate. But I had serious doubts about the strategy of ‘détente’.

  My gut instinct was that this was one of those soothing foreign terms which conceal an ugly reality that plain English would expose. It was difficult to see any difference between appeasement and détente as it began to evolve under the condi
tions of American paralysis after the election of a post-Watergate Congress dominated by ultra-liberal Democrats and the collapsing position in South Vietnam. Although so many obeisances had been paid to the concept that it was not prudent to attack it directly, I came as near as I could. This was not just a reflection of my preference for plain speaking: it was also the result of my conviction that too many people in the West had been lulled into believing that their way of life was secure, when it was in fact under mortal threat.