TLIAW: Walking In My Dreams
- Thread starter Comisario
- Start date
Meet The New Left
Though Labour had developed a reputation for being the party of perpetual opposition in the 1950s and early 60s, the tables had been turned by the dual victories of ’64 and ’68. The party had reclaimed the government for socialism for a total of nine years, even longer than Attlee’s radically transformative government from 1945 to 1951. But, in 1973, the party had slipped by a miniscule measure to 303 seats. The possibility of regaining the power of government was there, but strange things happen to a party on the Opposition benches.
1973’s post-election shock was destabilising for Labour, prompting the fair and expected comments that the leader might be replaced. Castle was, however, a fairly popular leader within the party and had the confidence of large swathes of the party. Whilst the Old Right was sidelined, the social democrats and the left-wingers still held together an uneasy alliance behind Britain’s first female party leader. An increasingly left-wing membership and leadership working in tandem had brought the Labour Party leftward, with increasing fears that moderate MPs might be deselected from their seats and replaced by the acolytes of the Greenwoodite wing of the party. Before 1973, these fears had existed somewhat but were allayed by Gwyn Morgan (General Secretary of the Labour Party) and Bob Mellish (Opposition Chief Whip). Both moderates themselves, Morgan and Mellish were adamant that the Parliamentary Labour Party would continue to represent the widest spectrum of opinion within the party. The selection of Betty Boothroyd as Tony Greenwood’s successor as MP for Rossendale confirmed that Parliament would not soon be filled with “beardy Trots and hippies”, as Mellish believed the youthful new members to be. But, these fears arose once again after the election defeat.
Labour’s MPs believed that, due to the small size of the Tory majority, the radical Left would have to act immediately or lose their chance to seize key seats from leading centrists in the party. The rumours were just rumours, however, and the rare instances of Constituency Labour Parties didn’t warrant the panic that took hold.
Concurrent with the panic over deselection were the shadow cabinet elections of November 1973, which saw the fall of James Callaghan and the affirmation of the “big beasts”: Tony Benn, Eric Heffer, Merlyn Rees, and Fred Peart. Another left-winger, Norman Atkinson, controversially joined the shadow cabinet as Shadow Transport Secretary when Atkinson was just six votes ahead of Denis Healey and clinched his place. Heffer remained as Shadow Chancellor, though Peart was made Shadow Foreign Secretary, Benn was made Shadow Employment Secretary, and Michael Foot was made Shadow Environment Secretary (after Maurice Macmillan merged the Ministry of Housing and Local Government and the Ministry of Public Building and Works to create the Department of the Environment). Merlyn Rees, the quietly diligent and unassuming MP for Leeds South, remained as Shadow Home Secretary.
In the Commons, performances from Castle were consistent in their ferocity and forcefulness and even the most Conservative-supporting of newspapers reported that Castle “hadn’t lost her aura of prime ministerial authority”. Comments such as these reinforced the idea that Labour’s “Red Queen” would soon be walking back into No. 10. Eric Heffer was not so supported by Britain’s journalists, who endeavoured to keep the memory of his economic mismanagement alive in the public sphere. These ideas were particularly strong amongst Labour’s younger intake, mainly attracted by the youthful and energetic figure of Tony Benn (who’d begun to insist upon being called “Tony” in a bid to distance himself from the rather less flattering nickname of “Wedgie”). Compared to Benn, Heffer was part of the Old Left establishment. Despite his insistence upon radical policies and lurching ever leftwards, Heffer just didn’t have the same energy or cadre arranging itself around him like Tony Benn did. Therefore, when Heffer made a speech at Essex University in September 1974, he was booed and jeered at for not implementing “full socialism now” (as quoted by the Daily Mail from a supposed member of the Essex Students’ Union). When protesting that he was powerless to do so as he was not in government, the audience agreed: Heffer was powerless.
“We want Benn!” was the cry of the angry student Left, whose greatest hopes for turning Britain into a socialist utopia were with a grey-haired son of a viscount. Heffer, the working-class former Communist, turned out to be an unlikely figure of left-wing criticism. He was “too cautious” as Chancellor, apparently; he was “socialism’s worst advocate”.
Leading into the 1974 shadow cabinet elections, it was clear that student politics hadn’t reached as far upward as some might have liked. The same old shadow cabinet remained, ensuring continuity between the Castle government and the Opposition frontbench leading into the next general election. Calls for Benn to be made Shadow Chancellor fell on deaf ears; calls for Benn to be made leader were laughed at.
Castle was adamant in her refusal to step down and trigger a leadership election for fear of encouraging Macmillan to call an early election whilst John Silkin was Acting Leader of the Labour Party. There were some Tribunites that may well have welcomed that possibility, but they were small in number and didn’t have the level of prestige or respect to convince anyone of the idea that Silkin was the man to lead Labour to victory in place of Castle. This meant nought in the end, thankfully.
On the 22nd February 1975, Maurice Macmillan called for the dissolution of Parliament and announced that polling day would be the 13th March. Labour had never been more ready to take office and the sense of entitlement was palpable. Let’s Get Back To Labour was the official title of the party’s 1975 manifesto. It included much of the same material that had seen Labour to defeat in 1973: aggressive rhetoric, grand promises, and the message that the second Macmillan was just a poor imitation of his father.
It wasn’t “full socialism now”, but it echoed the same righteousness that dominated the “New Left” of the 1970s.
1973’s post-election shock was destabilising for Labour, prompting the fair and expected comments that the leader might be replaced. Castle was, however, a fairly popular leader within the party and had the confidence of large swathes of the party. Whilst the Old Right was sidelined, the social democrats and the left-wingers still held together an uneasy alliance behind Britain’s first female party leader. An increasingly left-wing membership and leadership working in tandem had brought the Labour Party leftward, with increasing fears that moderate MPs might be deselected from their seats and replaced by the acolytes of the Greenwoodite wing of the party. Before 1973, these fears had existed somewhat but were allayed by Gwyn Morgan (General Secretary of the Labour Party) and Bob Mellish (Opposition Chief Whip). Both moderates themselves, Morgan and Mellish were adamant that the Parliamentary Labour Party would continue to represent the widest spectrum of opinion within the party. The selection of Betty Boothroyd as Tony Greenwood’s successor as MP for Rossendale confirmed that Parliament would not soon be filled with “beardy Trots and hippies”, as Mellish believed the youthful new members to be. But, these fears arose once again after the election defeat.
Labour’s MPs believed that, due to the small size of the Tory majority, the radical Left would have to act immediately or lose their chance to seize key seats from leading centrists in the party. The rumours were just rumours, however, and the rare instances of Constituency Labour Parties didn’t warrant the panic that took hold.
Concurrent with the panic over deselection were the shadow cabinet elections of November 1973, which saw the fall of James Callaghan and the affirmation of the “big beasts”: Tony Benn, Eric Heffer, Merlyn Rees, and Fred Peart. Another left-winger, Norman Atkinson, controversially joined the shadow cabinet as Shadow Transport Secretary when Atkinson was just six votes ahead of Denis Healey and clinched his place. Heffer remained as Shadow Chancellor, though Peart was made Shadow Foreign Secretary, Benn was made Shadow Employment Secretary, and Michael Foot was made Shadow Environment Secretary (after Maurice Macmillan merged the Ministry of Housing and Local Government and the Ministry of Public Building and Works to create the Department of the Environment). Merlyn Rees, the quietly diligent and unassuming MP for Leeds South, remained as Shadow Home Secretary.
In the Commons, performances from Castle were consistent in their ferocity and forcefulness and even the most Conservative-supporting of newspapers reported that Castle “hadn’t lost her aura of prime ministerial authority”. Comments such as these reinforced the idea that Labour’s “Red Queen” would soon be walking back into No. 10. Eric Heffer was not so supported by Britain’s journalists, who endeavoured to keep the memory of his economic mismanagement alive in the public sphere. These ideas were particularly strong amongst Labour’s younger intake, mainly attracted by the youthful and energetic figure of Tony Benn (who’d begun to insist upon being called “Tony” in a bid to distance himself from the rather less flattering nickname of “Wedgie”). Compared to Benn, Heffer was part of the Old Left establishment. Despite his insistence upon radical policies and lurching ever leftwards, Heffer just didn’t have the same energy or cadre arranging itself around him like Tony Benn did. Therefore, when Heffer made a speech at Essex University in September 1974, he was booed and jeered at for not implementing “full socialism now” (as quoted by the Daily Mail from a supposed member of the Essex Students’ Union). When protesting that he was powerless to do so as he was not in government, the audience agreed: Heffer was powerless.
“We want Benn!” was the cry of the angry student Left, whose greatest hopes for turning Britain into a socialist utopia were with a grey-haired son of a viscount. Heffer, the working-class former Communist, turned out to be an unlikely figure of left-wing criticism. He was “too cautious” as Chancellor, apparently; he was “socialism’s worst advocate”.
Leading into the 1974 shadow cabinet elections, it was clear that student politics hadn’t reached as far upward as some might have liked. The same old shadow cabinet remained, ensuring continuity between the Castle government and the Opposition frontbench leading into the next general election. Calls for Benn to be made Shadow Chancellor fell on deaf ears; calls for Benn to be made leader were laughed at.
Castle was adamant in her refusal to step down and trigger a leadership election for fear of encouraging Macmillan to call an early election whilst John Silkin was Acting Leader of the Labour Party. There were some Tribunites that may well have welcomed that possibility, but they were small in number and didn’t have the level of prestige or respect to convince anyone of the idea that Silkin was the man to lead Labour to victory in place of Castle. This meant nought in the end, thankfully.
On the 22nd February 1975, Maurice Macmillan called for the dissolution of Parliament and announced that polling day would be the 13th March. Labour had never been more ready to take office and the sense of entitlement was palpable. Let’s Get Back To Labour was the official title of the party’s 1975 manifesto. It included much of the same material that had seen Labour to defeat in 1973: aggressive rhetoric, grand promises, and the message that the second Macmillan was just a poor imitation of his father.
It wasn’t “full socialism now”, but it echoed the same righteousness that dominated the “New Left” of the 1970s.
Shriver/Eagleton '76
My god, do you want George Wallace to become President?
Cheers!
I suppose it's closer to a Social Market than anything else. Certainly,these Tories aren't gonna go back to Powellism and the election-losing ideas of free market capitalism! They're not crazy!
The Red Queen vs. Macmillan the Younger! Who will win?
Well... we'll see in the next update!
My god, do you want George Wallace to become President?
Uhh... no...
(If he moderates his stances as he did IOTL - I wouldn't really have that much of a problem.)Go Super Mac II!
King Of The Castle
In 1975, it appeared that British politics had once again reached that historical milestone of the blandly satisfying “consensus”. Unlike the miles between the positions of Greenwood and Powell, the differentiation of Castle and Macmillan came in degrees.
Labour recommitted itself to formally recognising closed shop agreements as an “integral component of British working life”, making this the premier part of their economic case against Macmillan’s government. In its manifesto, the party argued that implementing this policy would move agreements away from central government and towards workplaces for the benefit of workers on the shop floor. Undermining the National Council of Industry on the one hand whilst also indirectly increasing union membership by legally protecting closed shops on the other would be the strategy of the next Labour government if Castle was to retake No. 10 from its Tory occupants. These ideas were just as popular amongst working-class communities as they had been two years previously, but there was still a serious lack of recognition of middle-class desires and fears in Let’s Get Back To Labour. White-collar unions, with the exclusivity of the proposed closed shop policy, were more likely to lose members than gain more under Labour’s proposal. The manifesto had little to evidence a movement towards middle-class voters, despite the party’s protestations that Labour was for all Britons in every walk of life.
The Conservatives had a greater amount of evidence to point to in their dealings with the unions. They had been placated by the talks of the NCI, leading to two years without any major strike action and a steady rise in productivity. Macmillan the Younger had, at least in the area of industrial policy, learned to tread in the steps of Macmillan the Elder. Utilising Britain’s renewed friendship with American business to regain the foreign investment lost by austere taxes on corporations and forcing British businesses to the table with the unions, there seemed now to be permanence to the consensus that had been left so precarious by Castle’s management in the early ‘70s.
The issue of Europe was, however, more of an asset to the Labour Party than Macmillan’s government. Fears of a sudden jump towards entry of the European Economic Community, especially prevalent after the election of Valéry Giscard d'Estaing (a European federalist) as President of France in 1974, were rife and Maurice Macmillan looked like just the man to make the case to join. Polls on EEC entry, conducted in over the winter of 1974 and the early spring of 1975, indicated that an average of 62% of the British population were still against entry to the EEC, however. Macmillan bemoaned this particular part of the Greenwood legacy more than most, as the issue of Europe had nearly brought his father to breaking point after De Gaulle’s veto on British entry in 1963. Labour, still vehemently against entry and having been since before Tony Greenwood’s leadership victory in 1963, looked as if it had a near-monopoly of the electorate on paper. Certainly, the party could win an overwhelming victory with the statistics of EEC opposition alone. This wasn’t the case, however, in the election of 1975.
Macmillan’s position was more nuanced than simply rolling over and accepting any terms offered by the EEC’s President, Franco Malfatti, even though it was alleged by certain members of the Labour-supporting press that the fanatic Europhile MP, Edward Heath, was in control of the Tories’ European policy. Macmillan, however, crafted a manifesto pledge to walk between the pro- and anti-Marketeer factions of his party: he would enter into negotiations if Britain could be guaranteed an “opt-out” from any supranational legislation and only after a referendum on the issue delivered a pro-entry result. These were his conditions and, to most people, they seemed sensible enough. Labour’s Shadow Foreign Secretary, Fred Peart, railed against this policy as a sign of “reckless gambling with Britain’s future”. For many people worried about the possibility that Europe might see sense and concede to Britain’s demands, Peart’s response was a reasonable one that shored up Labour’s support across the ideological divide.
It was even made known that Enoch Powell, the former leader of the Conservative Party, was privately urging anyone who would listen to vote Labour. Thankfully for Macmillan, nobody was listening.
Thus, on these two major issues, the two parties campaigned and clashed in March 1975 and, in a shock to the pundits who predicted another close-run contest, one party emerged as the definitive victor.
The results came in, the jaw of David Butler (the BBC’s resident expert in psephology) crashed to the floor, and Transport House fell silent: the Conservative Party had won 336 seats, placing Labour at just 288.
It was an unforeseen revelation, mirroring the shock over Labour’s improving electoral position in ’68, and a cause for celebration in No. 10. There was no need to keep the removal van circling around the streets of Central London in the event of this momentous majority result for the Prime Minister. His position was safe and secure from the lingering right-wing critics who had threatened his fragile majority, leading the Powellites to resign themselves to their fate as the minority opinion in the party. Gone were their stormy backroom meetings and the Monday Club masses practically baying at Macmillan’s door; gone were the rumours of Amery joining the cabinet once more or Joseph receiving a knighthood for his services to politics and economics. In their place came anxious murmurings of deselection amongst their own ranks, just as Labour’s moderates had grown wary of angering the Castle leadership for fear that the left-wing party activists would turn on them. Now, the “New Right” (renamed, much to the disservice of their former leader, in the public discourse) had to find its way in the shadows of the party. Whilst the majority of Conservatives held the second “Supermac” in the highest regard, the right-wing fringes searched aimlessly for a new leader and a new direction.
Labour, inversely, had a majority of members and MPs itching to renew and rejuvenate the leadership. On the 3rd October 1975, Barbara Castle would resign as Labour leader to allow a new generation to come forth and lead Labour back into government.
Labour recommitted itself to formally recognising closed shop agreements as an “integral component of British working life”, making this the premier part of their economic case against Macmillan’s government. In its manifesto, the party argued that implementing this policy would move agreements away from central government and towards workplaces for the benefit of workers on the shop floor. Undermining the National Council of Industry on the one hand whilst also indirectly increasing union membership by legally protecting closed shops on the other would be the strategy of the next Labour government if Castle was to retake No. 10 from its Tory occupants. These ideas were just as popular amongst working-class communities as they had been two years previously, but there was still a serious lack of recognition of middle-class desires and fears in Let’s Get Back To Labour. White-collar unions, with the exclusivity of the proposed closed shop policy, were more likely to lose members than gain more under Labour’s proposal. The manifesto had little to evidence a movement towards middle-class voters, despite the party’s protestations that Labour was for all Britons in every walk of life.
The Conservatives had a greater amount of evidence to point to in their dealings with the unions. They had been placated by the talks of the NCI, leading to two years without any major strike action and a steady rise in productivity. Macmillan the Younger had, at least in the area of industrial policy, learned to tread in the steps of Macmillan the Elder. Utilising Britain’s renewed friendship with American business to regain the foreign investment lost by austere taxes on corporations and forcing British businesses to the table with the unions, there seemed now to be permanence to the consensus that had been left so precarious by Castle’s management in the early ‘70s.
The issue of Europe was, however, more of an asset to the Labour Party than Macmillan’s government. Fears of a sudden jump towards entry of the European Economic Community, especially prevalent after the election of Valéry Giscard d'Estaing (a European federalist) as President of France in 1974, were rife and Maurice Macmillan looked like just the man to make the case to join. Polls on EEC entry, conducted in over the winter of 1974 and the early spring of 1975, indicated that an average of 62% of the British population were still against entry to the EEC, however. Macmillan bemoaned this particular part of the Greenwood legacy more than most, as the issue of Europe had nearly brought his father to breaking point after De Gaulle’s veto on British entry in 1963. Labour, still vehemently against entry and having been since before Tony Greenwood’s leadership victory in 1963, looked as if it had a near-monopoly of the electorate on paper. Certainly, the party could win an overwhelming victory with the statistics of EEC opposition alone. This wasn’t the case, however, in the election of 1975.
Macmillan’s position was more nuanced than simply rolling over and accepting any terms offered by the EEC’s President, Franco Malfatti, even though it was alleged by certain members of the Labour-supporting press that the fanatic Europhile MP, Edward Heath, was in control of the Tories’ European policy. Macmillan, however, crafted a manifesto pledge to walk between the pro- and anti-Marketeer factions of his party: he would enter into negotiations if Britain could be guaranteed an “opt-out” from any supranational legislation and only after a referendum on the issue delivered a pro-entry result. These were his conditions and, to most people, they seemed sensible enough. Labour’s Shadow Foreign Secretary, Fred Peart, railed against this policy as a sign of “reckless gambling with Britain’s future”. For many people worried about the possibility that Europe might see sense and concede to Britain’s demands, Peart’s response was a reasonable one that shored up Labour’s support across the ideological divide.
It was even made known that Enoch Powell, the former leader of the Conservative Party, was privately urging anyone who would listen to vote Labour. Thankfully for Macmillan, nobody was listening.
Thus, on these two major issues, the two parties campaigned and clashed in March 1975 and, in a shock to the pundits who predicted another close-run contest, one party emerged as the definitive victor.
The results came in, the jaw of David Butler (the BBC’s resident expert in psephology) crashed to the floor, and Transport House fell silent: the Conservative Party had won 336 seats, placing Labour at just 288.
It was an unforeseen revelation, mirroring the shock over Labour’s improving electoral position in ’68, and a cause for celebration in No. 10. There was no need to keep the removal van circling around the streets of Central London in the event of this momentous majority result for the Prime Minister. His position was safe and secure from the lingering right-wing critics who had threatened his fragile majority, leading the Powellites to resign themselves to their fate as the minority opinion in the party. Gone were their stormy backroom meetings and the Monday Club masses practically baying at Macmillan’s door; gone were the rumours of Amery joining the cabinet once more or Joseph receiving a knighthood for his services to politics and economics. In their place came anxious murmurings of deselection amongst their own ranks, just as Labour’s moderates had grown wary of angering the Castle leadership for fear that the left-wing party activists would turn on them. Now, the “New Right” (renamed, much to the disservice of their former leader, in the public discourse) had to find its way in the shadows of the party. Whilst the majority of Conservatives held the second “Supermac” in the highest regard, the right-wing fringes searched aimlessly for a new leader and a new direction.
Labour, inversely, had a majority of members and MPs itching to renew and rejuvenate the leadership. On the 3rd October 1975, Barbara Castle would resign as Labour leader to allow a new generation to come forth and lead Labour back into government.
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Against all the odds, MacMillan's living up to his dad. Very well done, that shock election victory- there seemed to be lots of hints about the snap election going either way (with both parties looking quite unstable), and now it looks like Britain will be joining the EEC.
I wonder who will succeed the Red Queen.
I wonder who will succeed the Red Queen.
It would have been interesting to see Castle back in No. 10. But, who doesn't like a little shock now and then?
In terms of the EEC, Macmillan still has the hurdle of a referendum to overcome. He's going to need to work hard to convince the British people.
Who do you think we've got in the running?
It's a bit like OTL's 2015 election (just set in the 1970s), but without the Liberals crashing to the floor or the National Front suddenly advocating for Proportional Representation.
The Quiet Revolution
Labour stood, once again, at a crossroads. Two election defeats and an outgoing leader for whom many members and MPs felt deep admiration for were not signs of an easy leadership election to come.
Barbara Castle announced her resignation as party leader on the 3rd October 1975, almost seven months after Labour’s humiliating defeat in the general election of that year. The rumours had begun to circulate in the Parliamentary Labour Party that Eric Heffer would be the first to knife Castle after the election, with many expecting a leadership election over and done with before the end of the summer recess. It was not to be, however. Heffer would wait it out, alongside the other rumoured successors, until Castle finally decided to give up in the most sensible manner possible. She had heard the rumours of soundings being taken amongst MPs on behalf of a whole host of potential candidates and, knowing that her own colleagues expected her to surrender her position, thus decided upon jumping before she was pushed.
Various names were bandied about: Heffer was often the first to be mentioned, and then Tony Benn, the young Shirley Williams, the neo-Gaitskellite Tony Crosland, and some even called for the highly improbable return of Anthony Greenwood. Many of these guesses would, in the end, turn out to be nothing flights of fancy. Twenty-four hours following Castle’s announcement, Heffer leapt at the opportunity and announced that he would be running for the leadership of the Labour Party. In a bid to pre-empt Tony Benn, Heffer made it clear that he would be standing as the candidate of the Labour Left and that he had the government experience to make Labour electable once again. Another three days went on before Tony Crosland announced his intention almost simultaneously with John Silkin, who promptly resigned as Deputy Leader of the Labour Party. This opened up another contest, concurrent with the leadership race, to determine who should serve under the newly elected Leader of the Labour Party.
It looked set to be a stitch-up for Heffer, who polled at least ten points ahead of Silkin, his nearest rival, before the first official hustings events for the candidates in Fairfield Halls, Croydon (part of the constituency of Croydon South, which Labour had unexpectedly lost in ’73 and ’75). In the first event, however, things started to go sour for the Heffer campaign. Questions put to him dealt almost exclusively with his record as Chancellor, which was then seen as a great stain upon the Castle government. Given the aura around Labour’s first female leader, there was a tendency to believe that the many faults of her government came squarely down to Heffer’s own ineffectiveness with the economy. Whilst that was true to some extent, the berating that Heffer received at the first hustings event made him appear incompetent in retrospect. When trying to challenge the assertions made against him, Heffer appeared to shout down this line of questioning, which only brought with it more shouting. John Silkin intervened with his own brand of fiery remarks, nearly accusing Heffer of being wilfully negligent just to overthrow Castle and place himself at the head of the party. This was rather ironic from a man who swore that the deputy leadership was not simply a gateway to the leadership, and Heffer made full use of Silkin’s former statement. Amidst this shrieking match, Crosland may well have come off the best had he not joined in to try and score a few more points for his impossible bid.
Labour came away from the Croydon hustings with three candidates who proved one thing: they each had egos larger than the party itself. On the 16th October 1975, a new candidate emerged after being pressed to stand by a large group of figures from the Left and Right of the party who were sickened by the roster of candidates they saw in Heffer, Silkin and Crosland. On that day, Merlyn Rees announced he would stand for the leadership of Labour Party.
It was a highly unorthodox move for a man believed to be so unassuming and quiet, but these qualities allowed him to stand out from the “beasts” that fought in the Croydon hustings. In the aftermath of the event, Heffer dropped to Silkin’s level of support – with each man now on roughly thirty to thirty-five percent each. Crosland rose to nine percent from six. The “don’t knows” and undecideds thus made up just over thirty percent of polled members. Even though the membership did not yet have the final say on who should be Labour leader (that being an innovation of the mid-1980s), they still had the power to sway their MPs.
When Rees joined the contest, he received about ten percent and stole away two or three percent of Crosland’s party support. After the second hustings in Sheffield, he would soar to second place with thirty-four percent.
Whilst the result was shocking and electrifying, Rees’ performance at the Sheffield hustings was anything but. Simply and calmly, he laid out a workable plan for focusing the party back on its electoral future. Though Heffer and Silkin clawed at one other, Rees stayed outside of their party point-scoring and stood out as the only sensible politician among them. He promised to reach out to all sides of the party, noting his experience as a conciliator at the Home Office and making it very clear that he would “absolutely welcome the possibility” of Tony Benn working in his shadow cabinet in one of the highest possible offices. The young members of the New Left were delighted by Rees’ promise, prompting many of them to switch from supporting Silkin (who only won their support by not being Heffer) to supporting Rees. This unnerved many MPs who’d feared deselection after the 1973 election, forcing many of them to take the course of offering their support to Rees in a bid to avoid deselection in their own constituencies.
The deputy leadership election was an altogether tamer affair, with the left-wing Peter Shore and the young Shirley Williams standing out as the lead candidates whilst James Callaghan and Stanley Orme trailed behind. There were considerably fewer bouts of shouting and alienating levels of rage, which swung many party officials and activists to focus more on the candidacies of their preferred deputy leaders than involve themselves in the leadership campaigns. This, alongside many other reasons, was most likely why Rees won the Labour leadership so decisively in the guise of a moderate figure whilst Peter Shore had triumphed over Williams, Callaghan and Orme as a radical of the Greenwoodite wing of the party.
On the 25th October 1975, Merlyn Rees was announced as the winner of the Labour leadership election following the withdrawal of Tony Crosland’s candidacy on the 19th October.
Rees had won over half of all Labour MPs in a contest destined to be a shouting match between Eric Heffer and John Silkin. In the history books, the election of Rees as Labour Party leader often marks the end of Labour’s chapter of stagnation, infighting and uncertainty. From that point onwards, it would be Labour’s “Welsh Wizard” against the Conservatives’ “Supermac II”: a titanic conflict that would dominate British politics for half a decade.
Barbara Castle announced her resignation as party leader on the 3rd October 1975, almost seven months after Labour’s humiliating defeat in the general election of that year. The rumours had begun to circulate in the Parliamentary Labour Party that Eric Heffer would be the first to knife Castle after the election, with many expecting a leadership election over and done with before the end of the summer recess. It was not to be, however. Heffer would wait it out, alongside the other rumoured successors, until Castle finally decided to give up in the most sensible manner possible. She had heard the rumours of soundings being taken amongst MPs on behalf of a whole host of potential candidates and, knowing that her own colleagues expected her to surrender her position, thus decided upon jumping before she was pushed.
Various names were bandied about: Heffer was often the first to be mentioned, and then Tony Benn, the young Shirley Williams, the neo-Gaitskellite Tony Crosland, and some even called for the highly improbable return of Anthony Greenwood. Many of these guesses would, in the end, turn out to be nothing flights of fancy. Twenty-four hours following Castle’s announcement, Heffer leapt at the opportunity and announced that he would be running for the leadership of the Labour Party. In a bid to pre-empt Tony Benn, Heffer made it clear that he would be standing as the candidate of the Labour Left and that he had the government experience to make Labour electable once again. Another three days went on before Tony Crosland announced his intention almost simultaneously with John Silkin, who promptly resigned as Deputy Leader of the Labour Party. This opened up another contest, concurrent with the leadership race, to determine who should serve under the newly elected Leader of the Labour Party.
It looked set to be a stitch-up for Heffer, who polled at least ten points ahead of Silkin, his nearest rival, before the first official hustings events for the candidates in Fairfield Halls, Croydon (part of the constituency of Croydon South, which Labour had unexpectedly lost in ’73 and ’75). In the first event, however, things started to go sour for the Heffer campaign. Questions put to him dealt almost exclusively with his record as Chancellor, which was then seen as a great stain upon the Castle government. Given the aura around Labour’s first female leader, there was a tendency to believe that the many faults of her government came squarely down to Heffer’s own ineffectiveness with the economy. Whilst that was true to some extent, the berating that Heffer received at the first hustings event made him appear incompetent in retrospect. When trying to challenge the assertions made against him, Heffer appeared to shout down this line of questioning, which only brought with it more shouting. John Silkin intervened with his own brand of fiery remarks, nearly accusing Heffer of being wilfully negligent just to overthrow Castle and place himself at the head of the party. This was rather ironic from a man who swore that the deputy leadership was not simply a gateway to the leadership, and Heffer made full use of Silkin’s former statement. Amidst this shrieking match, Crosland may well have come off the best had he not joined in to try and score a few more points for his impossible bid.
Labour came away from the Croydon hustings with three candidates who proved one thing: they each had egos larger than the party itself. On the 16th October 1975, a new candidate emerged after being pressed to stand by a large group of figures from the Left and Right of the party who were sickened by the roster of candidates they saw in Heffer, Silkin and Crosland. On that day, Merlyn Rees announced he would stand for the leadership of Labour Party.
It was a highly unorthodox move for a man believed to be so unassuming and quiet, but these qualities allowed him to stand out from the “beasts” that fought in the Croydon hustings. In the aftermath of the event, Heffer dropped to Silkin’s level of support – with each man now on roughly thirty to thirty-five percent each. Crosland rose to nine percent from six. The “don’t knows” and undecideds thus made up just over thirty percent of polled members. Even though the membership did not yet have the final say on who should be Labour leader (that being an innovation of the mid-1980s), they still had the power to sway their MPs.
When Rees joined the contest, he received about ten percent and stole away two or three percent of Crosland’s party support. After the second hustings in Sheffield, he would soar to second place with thirty-four percent.
Whilst the result was shocking and electrifying, Rees’ performance at the Sheffield hustings was anything but. Simply and calmly, he laid out a workable plan for focusing the party back on its electoral future. Though Heffer and Silkin clawed at one other, Rees stayed outside of their party point-scoring and stood out as the only sensible politician among them. He promised to reach out to all sides of the party, noting his experience as a conciliator at the Home Office and making it very clear that he would “absolutely welcome the possibility” of Tony Benn working in his shadow cabinet in one of the highest possible offices. The young members of the New Left were delighted by Rees’ promise, prompting many of them to switch from supporting Silkin (who only won their support by not being Heffer) to supporting Rees. This unnerved many MPs who’d feared deselection after the 1973 election, forcing many of them to take the course of offering their support to Rees in a bid to avoid deselection in their own constituencies.
The deputy leadership election was an altogether tamer affair, with the left-wing Peter Shore and the young Shirley Williams standing out as the lead candidates whilst James Callaghan and Stanley Orme trailed behind. There were considerably fewer bouts of shouting and alienating levels of rage, which swung many party officials and activists to focus more on the candidacies of their preferred deputy leaders than involve themselves in the leadership campaigns. This, alongside many other reasons, was most likely why Rees won the Labour leadership so decisively in the guise of a moderate figure whilst Peter Shore had triumphed over Williams, Callaghan and Orme as a radical of the Greenwoodite wing of the party.
On the 25th October 1975, Merlyn Rees was announced as the winner of the Labour leadership election following the withdrawal of Tony Crosland’s candidacy on the 19th October.
Rees had won over half of all Labour MPs in a contest destined to be a shouting match between Eric Heffer and John Silkin. In the history books, the election of Rees as Labour Party leader often marks the end of Labour’s chapter of stagnation, infighting and uncertainty. From that point onwards, it would be Labour’s “Welsh Wizard” against the Conservatives’ “Supermac II”: a titanic conflict that would dominate British politics for half a decade.
Continuing to really enjoy this TL, although I am having to have an open wiki tab to research some of the names I come across. Keep it up.
I'm really loving everything you're doing with TTL, especially the Hipster PMs we're getting through this too - this 1970s looks set to be a really interesting period between Rees and Macmillan the Younger. Also quite like we have Peter Shore winning the Deputy Leadership.
It'll be interesting to see how things develop from here now!
It'll be interesting to see how things develop from here now!
It's still the 1970s - while damaged, the consensus basically carried on until Thatcher happened IOTL.
Thanks to the both of you
It's really good to hear that you're still enjoying it! Hipster PMs (but done right, I hope everyone feels) are so much more interesting to research and write about. Indeed, I've even found out certain titbits of information about Tony Greenwood (like how he was up for housebuilding expansion into agricultural land in the Green Belt, but was halted by Richard Crossman) since finishing the first part of the Shapiroverse that really illuminate his character and his policy ideas. Research into obscure politicians really does offer up a lot of alternate history potential.
I've still got plenty of surprises in store. We've got another five updates to go and there's five more years to cover!
Thank you
Also, I would say that the post-war consensus does still exist as it did IOTL. Unless you think Heath's "Selsdon Man" approach constitutes a break in the post-war consensus and everything from 1972-1979 was a new, slightly modified consensus?
More that it looks like the consensus will hold on for a while longer in this TL.
Of course who knows what's coming next.
Oh, that's fair enough!
Indeed - Macmillan might have a heart attack in '76 and Edward du Cann ends up leading the country down the road of monetarism, recession and industrial stri-...
Dammit, now I've got to change all that!