The Labour Governments 1964-1970

Peter Dorey

• Publisher: Taylor & Francis
• Year: 2006
• Print ISBN: 9780714656199
• eBook ISBN: 9781135767495
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Economía
• Subtopic: Economía internacional

Peter Dorey here presents the most comprehensive, in-depth and original book of the 1964-1970 labour governments published to date.

This unique account examines a wide range of political issues and makes extensive use of primary sources recently released by the Public Records Office, including previously unpublished cabinet papers, ministerial correspondence, ministers' private papers and interviews with former ministers.

Peter Dorey analyzes the policies and intra-party debates of the era and the problems which ministers faced in the context of both external events, and the growing unrest amongst labour backbenchers.

Providing a systematic analysis of this key period in modern British history, contributions span economic policies, foreign affairs, social reform, liberalism, constitutional reform and territorial management, thus ensuring that this text is essential reading for researchers and students of politics and government.

1 Labour in opposition, 1951–1964

Kevin Jefferys

Introduction

Must Labour Lose? was the title of a book published after the Labour Party had suffered a third successive general election defeat in 1959. Answers to the question were not optimistic. Basing their work on a survey of 500 voters, the authors found that Labour was widely seen as an outdated force, representing mainly the poor at a time when ‘many workers, regardless of their politics, no longer see themselves as working class’ (Abrams and Rose, 1960: 23). It was widely agreed that after the heady days of the Attlee government, the Labour Party had consigned itself to opposition – perhaps permanently – as a result of factional in-fighting. Labour’s reaction to the loss of power in 1951 had been to enter into protracted internal disputes between Bevanite ‘fundamentalists’ advocating an extension of public ownership, and Gaitskellite ‘revisionists’ seeking to play down nationalisation in favour of social justice.

Apportioning responsibility for this sorry state of affairs tended, in the first instance, to be a continuation of the internal power struggle by other means. Left-wing writers attributed Labour’s difficulties to the growing ascendancy of moderate ideas. According to Ralph Miliband (1961), by abandoning a consciously socialist perspective in the early 1950s, the Labour Party betrayed its ideals and alienated its natural supporters. Conversely, revisionists believed Labour was not adapting itself quickly enough to post- Second World War social change. In particular, it was argued that as Conservative governments provided wider home ownership and steady economic growth – thereby allowing greater access to consumer goods such as cars and domestic appliances – so the ‘affluent worker’ was increasingly aspiring to middle-class habits (Crosland, 1960a). This perspective, of course, reflected the concept of embourgeoisement, which became popular amongst some social scientists during the late 1950s and early 1960s, and which implied a continued diminution in support for the Labour Party.

Subsequent research has exposed the inadequacy of these claims, which not only exaggerate the ‘socialist’ content of 1940s Labourism and the speed of change in post-war society, but also underplay the residual strength of the Labour vote. In spite of Churchill’s return to power, Labour polled over 200,000 more votes than the Tories at the 1951 election – the product of huge majorities building up in urban strongholds. Indeed, Labour’s total of nearly 14 million votes was the largest hitherto recorded, and remains, to this day, the largest in the party’s history, exceeding ‘New Labour’s’ 13.5 million votes in 1997. Much of what became known as ‘consensus politics’ in the 1950s resulted from the Conservative belief that the nation remained ‘left inclined’, firmly attached to the welfare state and mixed economy bequeathed by Attlee’s administration (Jefferys, 1997).

Without doubt, the Labour Party struggled during the 1950s to find ways of appealing to those groups at the heart of social change, such as younger voters, but then so too did the Conservatives, as became clear after 1959. Labour’s core vote nevertheless remained strong, and the party’s weakness in the 1950s should therefore be accounted for in rather more prosaic terms. In a period of sustained economic growth, with living standards rising, there was no compelling incentive for the electorate to change the government of the day, especially as the Labour Opposition seemed happy to trade the unity of the Attlee years for ‘civil war’ between rival factions. The party’s electoral slide, in other words, had as much to do with political as with social determinants, which implied that the possibility of renewal remained strong. The authors of Must Labour Lose? concluded that it was wrong to present the party as being in terminal decline; the question they posed could not be answered with certainty in 1960 because ‘politics is continually in a state of flux’ (Abrams and Rose, 1960: 97–8). It was this ‘state of flux’ that was to enable Labour to return to power in 1964.

Attlee’s final years as leader, 1951–1955

The early 1950s constituted, in the words of Andrew Thorpe, ‘one of the most dismal periods’ in Labour’s history (2001: 126). It certainly looked during these years as if the party ‘must lose’. Contrary to expectations immediately after the 1951 election – when Labour stalwarts believed the Conservatives would prove ‘unfit to govern’ – Churchill’s administration grew in stature, gaining popularity as the harsh years of 1940s rationing and austerity finally came to an end. Attlee, by this stage in his late sixties, proved ineffective as leader of the Opposition, and instead of developing a clear and coherent new programme, Labour resorted to bitter intra-party squabbling. For example, in March 1952 a group of 57 MPs defied the party whip by refusing to back an official amendment to the defence estimates, an event which marked the first major act of public defiance by the Bevanites, a faction within the Parliamentary Labour Party (PLP) that developed out of the ranks of the Keep Left group of the late 1940s.

What made this challenge more significant was that, for the first time in a generation, the left had a leader who could attract support throughout the broader Labour movement. Nye Bevan was credited with both successful ministerial experience – as the architect of the NHS – and outstanding skills as an orator, and in 1952 he attempted to build on this by publishing his own political creed. In Place of Fear argued that in order to challenge the power structures of British society, democratic socialism needed to become something more than merely a middle way between capitalism and communism. Bevan’s work was much criticised for failing to take into account changes since the war, and for proposing remedies that seemed more appropriate to the economic circumstances of the 1930s. Nevertheless, there were signs that the tide was running in his direction. The Bevanite journal Tribune was successfully relaunched with an increasing circulation, whilst constituency parties vied with each other to hold ‘Brains Trusts’ question sessions featuring Bevanite speakers such as Richard Crossman and Barbara Castle. Meanwhile, at Westminster, Bevan’s supporters organised weekly meetings to discuss policy papers and were often found socialising together, constituting not so much ‘a party within a party’, as critics alleged, but rather ‘the Smoking Room within the Smoking Room’ (Campbell, 1987: 273).

The increasingly high profile of the Bevanites caused considerable consternation on Labour’s centre-right. Attlee’s private view – that Bevan had the qualities for future leadership – was not widely shared by his senior colleagues, many of whom regarded Bevan as an egocentric demagogue. Those prepared to speak out against Bevanite activity, such as Herbert Morrison and the former Chancellor, Hugh Gaitskell, began to enlist the support of concerned elements within the PLP and the trade union hierarchy. The outcome of a protracted inquest into the revolt over the defence estimates was the reintroduction of Standing Orders, suspended since 1945; henceforth, MPs could only receive the whip if they agreed to abide by majority decisions of the PLP. The revival of Standing Orders marked the eclipse of the unity that characterised the immediate post-war years. Attlee himself, while regretting these developments, believed he had gone as far as possible in disciplining the rebels without causing an open rupture in party ranks; only if unity was maintained, he believed, did Labour have any realistic chance of removing Churchill from power. Yet intra-party tensions increased further still, in spite of Attlee’s efforts to adopt a conciliatory line. Nowhere was this more evident than at the party’s annual conference in the autumn of 1952.

‘The Morecambe Conference’, recalled Attlee loyalist Douglas Jay, ‘was memorable as one of the most unpleasant experiences I ever suffered in the Labour Party. The town was ugly, the hotels forbidding, the weather bad, and the Conference, at its worst, hideous’ (1980: 223). Normal courtesies were cast aside as speakers from Labour’s right found themselves booed and jeered from the gallery. Meanwhile, the advance of Bevanite ideas within the party was reflected in the passing of motions backing the principle of a free health service and demanding further nationalisation of ‘key and major industries’. The most bitter feelings, though, were reserved for the elections to the constituency section of the National Executive Committee (NEC), where two of Labour’s old guard, Morrison and Hugh Dalton, were defeated by two leading Bevanites, Harold Wilson and Richard Crossman. The Bevanites, who could now claim six out of seven constituency places on the NEC, were not afraid to exult in their triumph. News of Morrison’s defeat in particular was greeted with howls of delight on the conference floor. Nor was any early improvement likely. To many on the right of the Labour Party, Morecambe demonstrated that if Bevanites in the Commons were an irritation, then Bevanism in the country threatened the whole future of the labour movement. In a hard-hitting speech in Stalybridge the week after the conference, Hugh Gaitskell provoked his opponents by alleging that one-sixth of conference delegates were ‘Communist or Communist-inspired’. Hugh Dalton noted in his diary that ‘nothing is getting better. More hatred, and more love of hatred, in our Party than I ever remember’ (Pimlott, 1986: 601, entry for 24–28 October 1952).

What, then, was at stake in this feuding? In part, the conflict was a battle for the party leadership. With Attlee likely to retire in the not too distant future, right-wingers were determined that he should be replaced by Morrison or, after the Stalybridge speech, by Gaitskell. Equally, Bevan had his own leadership ambitions. The main protagonists clearly saw the dispute as ideological; they believed, in Bevan’s words, there was a ‘basic conflict over party purpose’, between fundamentalists and revisionists. But some important qualifications must be added. In the first place, party disputes in the early 1950s were much less concerned with domestic than with foreign affairs. The principal topics of concern were German rearmament, national service and nuclear weapons. For example, whereas over twenty backbench revolts occurred on foreign policy and defence issues, only one was over nationalisation. Second, neither side had any coherently formulated ideas to apply to domestic politics. Bevanism focused almost exclusively on demands for more nationalisation, whilst the right had not as yet produced any distinctly revisionist agenda. Furthermore, those younger, middle-class Labour MPs who were floating new ideas tended to be viewed with suspicion by old-style trade unionists.

There were, moreover, many shared assumptions between Labour’s left and right, notably over the achievements of the Attlee years. Contributors to a 1952 collection entitled New Fabian Essays, drawn from all sections of the party, were agreed that – in contrast to what happened in 1930s Britain – the power of capitalism could be subordinated to, and shaped by, the political decisions of a democratic state. This collection also indicated, moreover, that there was a sizeable ‘centre’ element within the party, many of whom believed that internal feuding was a futile distraction. This suggested that much of the bitterness in the Labour Party during the early 1950s derived from differences of political style and emphasis, compounded by a rapid hardening of individual loyalties (Jefferys, 1999: 44–7).

In the aftermath of the Morecambe conference, Attlee decided the time had come to attempt a firm stand. At the first meeting of MPs in the new parliamentary session, he secured agreement, by 188 votes to 51, for a resolution banning all unofficial groups within the party. Under protest, the Bevanites had no option but to comply. Thereafter, instead of there being a group of 40 Bevanite MPs, Bevanism in the PLP was restricted to a smaller, private discussion group comprising only Bevan’s closest followers, such as Richard Crossman, Harold Wilson and Michael Foot. Bevan himself agreed the time had come to mend fences, and in the belief that the Morecambe conference had endorsed many of the policy positions favoured by the left, he put himself forward for Shadow Cabinet elections, signalling that he was prepared to re-enter the Party’s mainstream. The result was that throughout 1953 and early 1954 an ‘armed truce’ was in place. Old antagonisms remained beneath the surface and still occasionally flickered into life, but on both sides there was a recognition that Churchill’s government, enjoying the political dividends of economic advance, could only be challenged if the Labour Party displayed unity. Hence, the disruptive scenes in Morecambe were not repeated at the Margate conference in 1953. Instead, delegates approved almost unanimously a compromise policy document entitled Challenge to Britain, which combined limited promises of nationalisation with a pledge to remove all National Health Service charges.

In the spring of 1954, however, the armed truce was replaced by a return to more open warfare. Bevan found it ever more difficult to tolerate being in a minority of one in the Shadow Cabinet, especially as Conservative popularity made it increasingly unlikely that his self-discipline would be rewarded by a return to high office. In a debate on foreign policy, Bevan’s frustrations got the better of him when he launched a scathing attack that appeared to contradict most of what Attlee had argued on behalf of the Labour Party. After receiving a stern rebuke for what many MPs regarded as megalomania, Bevan announced his resignation from the Shadow Cabinet. Aside from leading to a formal ruling that in future frontbench speakers should stick to defined subjects, this incident had serious implications for the balance of power within the party. In the first place, the disintegration of the Bevanites was confirmed when the runner-up in Shadow Cabinet elections, Harold Wilson, decided to take his mentor’s place, provoking allegations of ‘Mac-Donaldism’ from those on the left.

More importantly, in the short term Bevan had jeopardised any prospect he might have had of succeeding Attlee as Labour Party leader. Not only did Bevan alienate mainstream party opinion, but he also disappointed his friends, who recognised that outside the Shadow Cabinet he had much less authority to promote his ideas. This was confirmed later in the year when he was easily defeated by Hugh Gaitskell for the post of party treasurer. ‘Bevan’, noted Hugh Dalton in December 1954, ‘has been committing slow suicide’, and this, combined with the ‘melancholy mediocrity of Morrison’, made it increasingly likely that Attlee would be succeeded by Gaitskell (Pimlott, 1986: 641, Dalton’s diary entry for Christmas 1954). ‘The trouble with Nye’, one of his supporters later concluded, ‘was that he wasn’t a team player’ (Mikardo, 1988: 151). Bevan, it was felt, could neither work closely with senior colleagues nor, owing to his conviction that socialism was about instinct rather than strategy, provide consistent forward planning. As if to underline the point, he launched a further attack on Attlee in a defence debate in March 1955. This led, despite the imminence of a general election, to another bout of wrangling in which Bevan only narrowly escaped expulsion from the party (Shaw, 1988: 35–50).

The price of Labour’s internecine warfare was about to become apparent. After Churchill’s retirement, his successor, Sir Anthony Eden, could not resist calling an early election in May 1955. The electoral omens had not looked good for Labour for some time, for in forty-five contested by-elections held since 1951, the Conservatives had not suffered a single defeat; unusually in mid-term, several of these by-elections had actually witnessed a swing towards the Government. In such circumstances, Labour found it difficult to make any distinctive appeal to the electorate. The party’s 1955 manifesto was essentially a reworking of Challenge to Britain, which Bevan had described privately as ‘cold porridge stirred through a blanket’. Neither appeals to the memory of the 1945 government nor promises of a few further measures of nationalisation did much to stir voters. Nor did Labour attacks on high prices make much impact on the steady Conservative lead in the opinion polls, whilst Attlee’s request that Eden repudiate his ‘dirty’ electioneering claim that Labour would bring back rationing failed to instil life into a low-key campaign. Meanwhile, in the constituencies Labour’s campaign was hampered by the serious decline in its number of full-time agents since 1951.

When the results were announced, it was no surprise that the Conservatives became the first peacetime government for nearly a century to be returned to power with an increased majority. Press commentators were agreed about the causes of this outcome: in addition to Labour’s internal feuding, ‘a great many working people are “doing nicely, thank you” – and they don’t bother to ask why’ (Butler, 1955: 82–94, 160). Yet it would be wrong to exaggerate the longer-term significance of the 1955 result. Both parties recorded lower total votes than in 1951 owing to a fall in turnout, and the Conservatives gained only 11 seats on a small average swing of 1.8 per cent. With membership of trade unions continuing to expand slowly and Labour still commanding 46.4 per cent of the popular vote, there was no indication that the 1955 defeat was irreversible. Internal Conservative inquests noted that Labour abstentions were a crucial factor, and that affluence had not yet gone far enough to dent the ‘prejudice against voting Conservative’ of millions of working-class voters. In such circumstances, there was actually some concern amongst Conservative strategists that Labour had not been beaten out of sight (Jefferys, 1997: 38–40).

Hugh Gaitskell and the rise of revisionism, 1955–1959

In the aftermath of election defeat, there was a recognition within Labour ranks of the need for change. Party organisation was compared by Harold Wilson in a special report to a ‘rusty penny-farthing’, and a series of research projects were soon launched in order to reconsider Labour’s policies. The major preoccupation of Labour activists, though, as they confronted the prospect of a lengthy Eden administration, was with the party leadership. It was obvious that Attlee, after twenty years at the helm, would soon retire, and the question of his successor occasioned intense speculation. Instead of retiring immediately after the election, Attlee stayed on for a further six months. Critics claim that he did so in order to spite his long-standing rival, Morrison (Hunter, 1959: 222). On the other hand, Attlee believed his early departure was likely to deepen intra-party divisions between the supporters of Morrison and those of Bevan. Whatever his motives, the practical effect was to enhance the prospects of the third contender for the leadership, Hugh Gaitskell. Aside from a forceful conference performance, revealing a passion for social justice hitherto hidden from many party members, Gaitskell’s standing was further reinforced by ‘Operation Avalanche’ – the effort of his old ally Hugh Dalton to dislodge ageing members of the Shadow Cabinet, nine of whom were over 65. By encouraging others to follow his lead in making way for younger candidates, Dalton helped to encourage the view that Morrison’s age made him an unsuitable leader. In the ballot amongst MPs that followed Attlee’s eventual resignation in December 1955, Gaitskell comfortably defeated Bevan, leaving Morrison in a poor third place.

The new leader was not universally welcomed in the labour movement. To many Bevanites, it was not easy to forgive Gaitskell’s close ties with the Party’s right wing since 1951, especially his links with the three trade union leaders who controlled about 40 per cent of votes at the party conference: Deakin of the TGWU, Lawther of the Mineworkers and Williamson of the GMWU. The claim that Gaitskell was insufficiently radical to head the Labour Party was one that was to resurface for years to come. So too were the accusations that he relied too heavily on a narrow clique of friends known as the ‘Hampstead set’, who, like Gaitskell himself, tended to be middle class and Oxford educated. In these circumstances, it was to his credit that Gaitskell was able rapidly to establish himself as party leader. He first managed to exploit the mood for a fresh start by offering past antagonists such as Bevan and Wilson important positions in the new Shadow Cabinet. Within a year, Gaitskell also demonstrated his potential as a national leader during the Suez crisis. For by speaking out powerfully against the Anglo- French attack on the Egyptians and emphasising the theme of ‘law not war’, he both carried with him the support of the whole Labour movement and played a part in helping to bring down Sir Anthony Eden after the suspension of the Suez operation (Williams, 1979: 279–92).

Gaitskell’s leadership also meant fresh thinking about the party’s domestic agenda. After the 1955 defeat, the NEC identified several areas of investigation, with the aim of revising policy in order to take account of recent social change. Under Gaitskell’s guidance, this process eventually resulted in a series of policy documents that shaped Labour pronouncements until well into the 1960s (Donnelly, 1995: 92–125). In place...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Illustrations
• Contributors
• Introduction
• 1. Labour In Opposition, 1951–1964
• 2. The Social Background of Labour MPs Elected In 1964 and 1966
• 3. The Problem of Party Management
• 4. The Fabian Political Economy of Harold Wilson
• 5. From a ‘Policy for Incomes’ to Incomes Policies
• 6. Industrial Relations Imbroglio
• 7. Policy Towards the European Economic Community
• 8. Foreign Policy Beyond Europe
• 9. Whitehall Reform
• 10. Parliamentary Reform
• 11. Scottish Nationalism and Demands for Devolution
• 12. Welsh Nationalism and Demands for Devolution
• 13. English Regional Policy
• 14. From Indifference to Intervention: Labour and Northern Ireland
• 15. Education, Education, Education
• 16. Towards Public–Private Partnership: Labour and Pensions Policy
• 17. Immigration and Race Relations
• 18. Abolition of the Death Penalty
• 19. Homosexual Law Reform
• Conclusion
• References