Labor Gets the Sack

A historic vote leads to a most important campaign

The motion put before Parliament by the Tories was simple and straightforward: 'That this House has no confidence in Her Majesty's government." By a margin of a single vote, the Commons agreed. Thus last week, in one of the most dramatic episodes in Britain's recent political history, the Labor government of Prime Minister James Callaghan went down to defeat, thereby forcing an early election. The last such sacking took place 55 years ago, when Britain's first Labor government, led by Ramsay MacDonald, lost a similar vote of confidence.

A general election has been scheduled for May 3. Labor's Callaghan, 67, and Conservative Leader Margaret Thatcher, 53, have squared off for an election campaign that is already regarded as perhaps the most important since 1945, when a massive Labor victory ushered in the welfare state. If the Tories win, as the polls now predict, Britain will gain not only its first woman Prime Minister, but a government whose resoundingly conservative views will run counter to the whole leftward drift of British politics since the end of World War II.

The immediate cause of Callaghan's crisis came on March 1, when the referendum in Scotland and Wales fell short of the 40% approval by the total electorate required for the government's home rule, or devolution, bills. The eleven members of the Scottish National Party, whose votes had been essential to the survival of Callaghan's minority government,* nevertheless insisted that the government go ahead with legislation for Scottish home rule. When Callaghan demurred and asked for an all-party conference instead, the Nationalists angrily withdrew their support and demanded a no-confidence vote. Sensing victory, the Tories immediately asked for one too, as did the Liberals, and thus the stage was set.

Callaghan's real troubles, however, began last October when he confounded the experts by failing to call an election that many of them thought he could win. Inflation was 8%, the pound was strong, the unions were peaceful, and the Prime Minister was running well ahead of Margaret Thatcher in popularity polls. Nevertheless, Callaghan passed up the opportunity and seemed inclined to let his government run its full five years, or until October 1979.

Then came Britain's winter of discontent, in which a wave of strikes badly tarnished Labor's image as the only party capable of dealing with the powerful trade unions. The strikes took on a personal note for Britons, as garbage piled up in the streets, and schools and hospitals in many cities either shut down or operated part-time; in an action that offended the country's sense of decency and fair play, ambulance drivers went on strike, putting life itself at risk. By the end of a nasty winter, Callaghan's popularity had been severely damaged, while the new "concordat" struck between the Labor government and the unions was widely regarded as a sham. The settlements sabotaged Callaghan's principal economic policy, a 5% wage-increase ceiling. The failure of the devolution referendums was an almost lethal blow to the government's authority and esteem. In a scathing attack on Labor, Thatcher said: "Whether or not they manage a few more abject months or weeks or even hours in office, the results will almost certainly be the same. Labor has passed the point of no return."

For the Mother of Parliaments, last week's vote was a moment of almost unparalleled suspense. The dimly lit House overflowed as members crowded every inch of the green-padded benches or sat informally on the floor. In the galleries, peers from the House of Lords stood jammed together like asparagus stalks, while Tory wives watched like Upstairs, Downstairs'aristocracy, waiting for the vote that might cast them and their husbands once again into the front ranks. In the seven-hour debate that preceded the motion, Thatcher led off with a crisp but low-keyed assault on Callaghan for mismanaging the nation's affairs. "Never has our standing in the world been lower," she declared. "Britain is now a nation on the sidelines." She summed up Britain's needs in a phrase tailored to campaign-poster type: "Less tax and more law and order." In his scornful, witty reply, Callaghan brought down the House by skewering the minor parties for forcing an election in which they may lose heavily. "This is the first time in recorded history," he said, "that the turkeys have been known to vote for an early Christmas." He also twitted Thatcher for waiting until the Scots Nats had moved against his government: "When the Right Honorable Lady found out what they would do, she found the courage of their convictions."

Behind the scenes, Laborites were trying desperately to woo minor party M.P.s whose votes might keep the government in office. Suddenly, money was found for Welsh quarrymen suffering from silicosis where none had existed before; almost as suddenly three Welsh Nationalists decided to stay with the government. Labor's tactics prompted an outcry about "sordid haggling," although the Tories were engaged in some backstairs dealing of their own. Having won over the Welsh, Callaghan and his lieutenants turned their attention to three of the twelve members from Ulster; most of the others were Protestant Unionists considered certain to vote with the Conservatives. The full weight of Labor lobbying came down upon Harold McCusker, Frank Maguire and Gerald Fitt. In the end, McCusker voted for the government, while Maguire and Fitt abstained. But Fitt, a Catholic who usually supported Labor, did so only after an anguished declaration of conscience that held the House in silence.

By early evening the Tories' count showed they were still one short; in case of a tie, House Speaker George Thomas, a Laborite, would have voted for the government. Then came news that changed the balance: Labor M.P. Sir Alfred Broughton, 76, hospitalized after a heart attack, could not make it on a stretcher to vote, while a Tory M.P. whose wife had died said he would come. As the members filed back into the chamber after voting, there was a tense period of anxious suspense until the result was announced: the motion had passed 311 to 310. The Conservative benches erupted into cheers; Thatcher remained seated, showing no emotion. Later, after a champagne celebration with her husband Denis, she accorded that "a night like this comes once in a lifetime."

Next day Callaghan went to see the Queen to ask for the dissolution of Parliament. Emerging from Buckingham Palace, "Sunny Jim" was his usual cheerful self. "I always look forward to a good fight," he said. The campaign officially begins April 7, the day Parliament will be dissolved, and it seems certain that a battle royal is in the making. "My troops are ready," said Thatcher. "They have been ready for quite some time."

Two days after the vote that brought down the government, Britain was shaken by the unthinkable, the assassination of a shadow-cabinet member within the hallowed confines of Westminster. The Irish Republican Army (I.R.A.) claimed responsibility for planting a bomb in a blue Vauxhall driven by Airey Neave, 63, who would have been Secretary of State for Northern Ireland in a Thatcher Cabinet. It was the second assassination of a British official in as many weeks. Neave may have written his own epitaph with his views on I.R.A. terrorism: "The British public will become more resistant than ever." Still, the I.R.A. had made it clear that no official could feel safe as Britain begins five weeks of campaigning.

*The parliamentary lineup: Labor 306, Conservatives 281, Liberals 13, Scottish Nationals 11, Ulster Unionists 7, Ulster Independents 3. Welsh Nationalists 3, others 4.

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