Flip (Flop) Wilson

Four years ago, then-Prime Minister Harold Wilson conjured a stirring vision for his countrymen. "Out of the destruction of two world wars," he said, Europe was about "to create a new unity," with Britain a major participant in that grand venture. Despite those ringing words, suspicion began to grow about the depth of Wilson's commitment to joining the six-member European Economic Community. By March 1970, with an election imminent and the polls showing heavy antiMarket sentiment, Wilson seemed so uncertain about it that Tory Leader Edward Heath, who was to replace him as Prime Minister three months later, asked archly: "Is he or is he not going to rat?"

The answer came last week. In a long speech to Commons, Wilson declared that the terms agreed upon by Heath's Tory negotiators in Luxembourg in June for Britain's entry into the Common Market were unacceptable.

Open Contradiction. For his opponents it was one flip-flop too many. Like other observers, acidulous London Times Columnist Bernard Levin stood agape at "the spectacle of the Leader of the Opposition denouncing his own Government's application to join the EEC, and rejecting as totally unacceptable the terms which a year ago he would have been proclaiming a triumph for its skill, patience and determination."

That feeling was shared by pro-Marketeers on both sides of the House. Despite Wilson's claim that Labor would have rejected the latest terms, one ex-Minister after another openly contradicted him. Former Foreign Minister Lord George-Brown and George Thompson, Wilson's onetime EEC negotiator, both said that the terms arrived at in Luxembourg were as good as anything that Labor could have hoped for. Roy Jenkins, deputy leader of the party, stated the case even more embarrassingly for Wilson when he told his constituents: "We set a course in government and should stick to it. There never was a time when honesty and consistency were more desirable in politics."

Jenkins' stance stopped just short of open revolt--wisely, since the former Chancellor of the Exchequer commands the loyalty of only a minority of Labor's 288 M.P.s. But it did exacerbate the already ugly mood of a party that periodically tears itself apart and then agonizingly tries to put the pieces together again. Visibly angered, Wilson declared that he would not tolerate a "party within a party" giving aid and comfort to the Tories. If Labor did not pull itself together quickly, he said, "I intend as leader to take a grip on it."

But Wilson has yet to offer his colleagues--or, for that matter, British voters--a convincing reason for his turnabout. One of his chief objections to the Luxembourg agreement is that New Zealand's dairy products were not given a fair break. That view is not shared by the New Zealand government.

Poisoned Water. Not that Wilson occupies an easy position. Caught between the party's antiMarket majority and its vocal pro-Marketeers, he cannot hope to please everyone. As Harold Lever, an ardently pro-Market M.P., put it: "Poor Harold Wilson! If he drank the water, it was poisoned. If he didn't drink, he'd die of thirst!"

The prospect seems to have unnerved Wilson. Normally a sure-footed parliamentary maneuverer, he stumbled badly last week in the House. At one point the Tories' chief Market negotiator, Geoffrey Rippon, quoted a letter from Lord Campbell, chairman of the Commonwealth sugar exporters, as saying that the sugar deal made in Brussels was "satisfactory." Wilson leaped to his feet. Lord Campbell had told him only that morning, said Wilson, that "if Rippon quotes that letter, he is not entitled to do it because Rippon knows the real facts." Coldly, Rippon immediately replied: "I utterly, totally and completely repudiate what you have said. I got his express permission." Next day, Wilson had to go through the humiliation of a retraction. The message from Lord Campbell had been garbled, he said.

The only plausible view of Wilson's switch is that it was done to preserve party unity by appeasing the strong antiMarket sentiment of Labor's left-wing and union elements. He may also be hoping to exploit popular misgivings over the move into Europe. Although polls show that more Britons are against entry than for it (41% v. 35%), the pro-Market faction is steadily growing.

In the short run, Wilson may achieve his objectives. But in the longer term, his wriggling over Britain's most important undertaking in decades should come back to haunt him. He is a man who has always had a problem with credibility--a drawback that is not likely to be diminished this week when his strikingly self-serving political memoirs are published. Given the success of the Tory government's latest reflationary mini-budget (see BUSINESS) and a relatively painless entry into Europe, Wilson might be remembered only as the man who sacrificed a central principle for short-term gain--in marked contrast to the political consistency of Jenkins.

In that event, says Columnist Levin with relish, Wilson will end up "with egg on both sides of his face, and reaping the reward that comes in good time to those who, insufficiently supplied with principles to act upon, act upon expediency and get it wrong."

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