Attack on Mac

Television ratings are not necessarily a reliable index to political popularity, but Tory politicians are still busy reading implications into Prime Minister Harold Macmillan's latest TV appearance. When Mac started to talk, he had an audience of nearly 8,000,000, according to the British equivalent of a Nielsen survey, but by the time he had finished his 15-minute address, more than 1,000,000 viewers had switched off their sets. With syrupy platitudes, the Prime Minister glossed over difficulties and blurred issues, failed to spell out forcefully what his policies would really mean to Britain. "The Prime Minister lolls and drools in fireside chats," said Ray Gunter, a member of the Labor Party's shadow cabinet. "He says we have done jolly well, but we ought to do a little better ... It is wrong to lead the people with words suited to a girls' junior hockey side."

Macmillan's television performance was only the latest in a series of disappointments that have made Britain begin to question his leadership. Fortnight ago, while addressing the Oxford University Conservative Association, Macmillan was hooted down by undergraduates shouting "Give us more cliches." In the lobbies of Westminster and the coffeehouses of Soho, a major national pastime is "rubbing the magic off Mac." No longer is he the urbane figure who rescued the Tory Party from the Suez disaster, repaired the Anglo-American breach, led the Tories to a smashing election victory in 1959 with the slogan: "You never had it so good." To many Tories, Macmillan's familiar Edwardian image has become a liability.

Too Fast, Too Slow. As it happens, Britons do have it good. They have more money, more leisure, more television sets, washing machines and refrigerators than ever before. In the midst of this prosperity, Britain is making a number of historic decisions. Having resigned itself long ago to a reduced status in world affairs compared with the U.S. and Russia, it is also detaching itself somewhat from the historic and psychological tradition of Commonwealth and Empire. By preparing to join the Common Market, Britain in fact acknowledged that its economic destiny lies more with Europe than with the Commonwealth. But there is discontentment among Britons opposed to the changes, and among those who feel the changes are not happening fast enough.

Heightening the feeling of unrest is the fact that the economy, despite prosperity, is turning sluggish. In the first six months of 1961, Britain lost $460 million in gold and currency, and economists warn that if the country is to support itself, exports must rise 10% per year over the next four years; the predicted rise for 1962 is only 4%. To make Britain's industry more competitive for foreign markets, the government instituted a "pay pause" for Britain's state-employed workers. Reason: in the first half of 1961, production rose only 2%, while wages jumped 9%, compared with the same period in 1960. The result was a wave of strikes organized by Britain's notoriously fat and powerful unions.

Right Wing, Left Wing. In the face of these challenges the 68-year-old Prime Minister has often seemed tired, indecisive and reluctant to face up to his opposition, notably a small but vociferous group of Tories vigorously opposing his determination to lead Britain into the Common Market. They insist that Britain owes its primary allegiance to the Commonwealth and fear that the Common Market's built-in pressure toward political unity would narrow Britain's sovereignty. Worrying about the competition of continental farmers, Britain's prosperous farm bloc also opposes the Common Market. Ironically, the right-wing Tory opponents of the Common Market have found allies in the extreme left of the Labor Party. Many doctrinaire socialists feel that if Britain joins, it would be all but impossible to complete the nationalization of British industry, because the slowdowns and dislocations inevitably caused by nationalization, even if only temporary, would not be permissible in the stiffly competitive Common Market; they also know that British labor would have to work much harder against continental competition.

There is similar dissatisfaction with the government's African and U.N. policies.

Right-wing empire loyalists and younger Tory businessmen with a financial stake in Africa deplore what they regard as the government's unseemly haste in granting independence to African colonies that are not ready for self-government, let alone responsibility in world affairs. These critics have still not forgiven the U.N. action against Katanga, and regard Foreign Secretary Lord Home's bitter criticism of the U.N. last December as their charter. But not all the Tory discontent with the government comes from right-wingers. The Bow Group,* an unofficial progressive organization with nearly 1,000 Tory members, has attacked the government's "weak and puzzling" record on colonial issues, has urged that the government back the U.N. more firmly.

Not Yet MMG. In the House of Commons last week, the Labor Party proposed censuring Lord Home's anti-U.N. speech. Gleefully echoing some of the Tory backbenchers' own criticisms of Macmillan,

Laborite Harold Wilson attacked "the same faltering hand, the same dithering indecision and confusion." But Macmillan held his ground, the Tories closed ranks against Labor, and the censure motion was handily defeated. Earlier, Sir Harry Legge-Bourke, a leading Tory backbencher, had called on Macmillan to resign in favor of a younger man. "The country today needs unflagging vigor, undaunted hope, infallible faith and the forward look," said Legge-Bourke. "I do not believe that it is fair to expect those who have borne such heavy burdens so courageously for so long to go on until they either break down or bemuse the public mind."

But Macmillan was not likely to heed such criticism from his back benches. His ambition is to lead Britain into the Common Market and thus establish his stature in history. His supporters claim that by deliberately glossing over the issues, he avoids even greater public uproar about his policies. Moreover, the Labor Party has not mustered enough national support to topple his government. The dissident Tories, meanwhile, advance such names as Butler, Sandys, Conservative Party Chairman Iain Macleod, and Lord Privy Seal Edward Heath to succeed Macmillan. But none yet has the stature to lead the party. With general elections still a year off, Macmillan can go about implementing his policies in his own way. As a Tory backbencher said last week: "We haven't yet started the cry 'MMG--Macmillan must go--because there is no successor in sight."

* Named for its first meeting place, the Bow and Bromley Conservative Club in London's East End.

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