TLIAW: För Storbritannien i Tiden

Introduction
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    Dear God in Heaven, what is that logo

    I swear I don't know what you're talking about.

    You've got the Three Crowns there, and it's all blue and yellow... but they're British crowns.

    Yes - the mixture is very much intentional, I assure you.

    So this is like what shiftygiant did a while back except with Swedish Prime Ministers instead of German Chancellors, is that right?

    I believe the expression is "hit the nail on the head", old bean.

    On the one hand, Labour hegemony, but on the other hand, Sweden. Is this scenario intentionally designed to make Meadow feel as conflicted as physically possible, or is that just a happy bonus?

    ...I'm going to go with the latter. Yeah, definitely the latter.

    Well, good luck then. Based on your track record, you're going to need it.

    Thanks, but-

    Hang on a minute here. Timeline in a While?

    -yeah.

    You cheeky bastard.

    I make no excuses, especially not for cheek.
     
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    Clement Attlee (1945-1950)
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    Clement Attlee (Labour)
    1945-1950
    The Prelude

    Labour's long spell in power began rather unexpectedly. Heading into the 1945 general election, the first held since the war's end, Winston Churchill was the most popular Prime Minister in memory. His iconic image as “the Man who Won the War” resounded with the people, and wherever he went during the election campaign he was met with huge cheering crowds. However, the man is separate from the party he leads, and never has this been more clear than in 1945 – Churchill's actual policies were felt too close to the austerity policies pursued during the Great Depression of the 1930s, which had poor effect against the mass unemployment and economic hardship of that period.

    Labour, on the other hand, promised a new tack. Their now-legendary 1945 manifesto, Let Us Face the Future, featured a bold vision of a welfare state, a New Jerusalem forged from the ashes of the old order, in which no child would be left behind, no sick or injured left untreated, and no elderly left uncared for. It was a vision that held appeal in a land devastated by a decade of economic depression and war, and in the end the Conservatives found themselves trounced by a margin of two to one in seats. For the first time ever, Britain had a majority Labour government, and when Clement Attlee went to the Palace on the morning after the election it was at the head of a government unlike any other thus far in the nation's history.

    Immediately the Labour Government set to work implementing its policies. Large swathes of the economy – coal, steel, the railways, the Bank of England, the electric grid – were brought under public ownership, and large subsidies for council housing was introduced, leading to a massive surge in home construction. Most boldly of all, the government set about consolidating the various private and charitable health trusts and insurance systems into a single unified National Health Service, which would cover every British subject regardless of income and whose services would be free at point of use. However, all was not well, as the post-war economic slump forced the government to maintain rationing schemes for a variety of consumer goods, a situation that made the government in general and Chancellor Sir Stafford Cripps in particular deeply unpopular with the British public.

    By the 1950 general election, however, the situation had improved to the extent that most of the rationing could be done away with, and Labour entered its first election defending a majority government with a message of prosperity delivered and the need for continued economic planning in order to safeguard this prosperity. It must've resounded with the electorate, for the Labour Government was returned. Their majority was smaller than in 1945, to be sure, but still a solid workable mandate to continue their policies.

    It was not, however, Attlee's task to carry its policies into the new decade, for in May of 1950, after an evening of negotiations with visiting French and American dignitaries, he slumped out of his Hackney carriage and collapsed onto the pavement. The distressed bystanders called an ambulance, but by the time it arrived it was too late. The architect of the New Jerusalem, the second in a row of Labour Prime Ministers that was to span the history of modern Britain until the present, and the first one to head a pure Labour government without needing Liberal support, was dead. He was mourned by a nation, and the grandees of his party turned to selecting a new man to lead the country. Their choice was unexpected, but in hindsight, not a bad one.
     
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    Harold Wilson (1950-1971)
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    Harold Wilson (Labour)
    1950-1971
    The New Man

    Like no other figure in modern British history, Harold Wilson was The Prime Minister. There were children born on the day of his ascension who were mature adults by the day of his resignation. He presided over two decades of meteoric growth, and it no doubt helped ensure the extreme longevity of his premiership that in most years his government was able to point to increases in the standard of living for the ordinary British man and woman. As he dominated political life, so too did Britain's longest-serving Prime Minister become a stock figure in cultural life. Like few other men of his era, Wilson understood the importance of the media, and of perpetuating for oneself a media image, and the chipper Yorkshireman with his iconic pipe and amusing accent became a household figure across the nation. He frequently gave televised interviews and appeared on chat shows, where he cracked jokes and acted convivially, giving the impression of a leader in touch with his people.

    However, as natural as Wilson's premiership seemed for the generation of Brits who grew up under him, its beginning came as rather a surprise. When Attlee died, a number of Labour grandees were thought likely leadership contenders, but most of their bids failed to materialise – either they were unable to get support among the parliamentary party or felt themselves too old to lead the party. In the end, the election came down to Aneurin Bevan, the Health Minister who had pushed for the creation of the NHS, Herbert Morrison, the Leader of the House of Commons, and Hugh Gaitskell, Cripps' replacement as Chancellor. The NHS, Bevan's brainchild, was proving one of the Attlee government's most popular achievements – but as for the man himself, his staunch leftism alienated much of the Parliamentary Party, and he quickly proved an unlikely candidate. Gaitskell and Morrison were both men of the right, but the latter was felt too old to be a viable leadership prospect, while the former was well-regarded but felt a little too untested.

    When the first leadership ballot was held, the three candidates were almost equal in strength. A compromise needed to be reached, and with neither right-wing candidate willing to step aside in favour of the other, it came time to find a compromise candidate who could win the support of both left and right. That man was Harold Wilson, then President of the Board of Trade and one of few men whose ideological alignment was hard to pin down. Perhaps this was because he was even more untested than Gaitskell – in any case, he was nominated for the second round, and with both Morrison and Gaitskell stepping aside, the 34-year-old Wilson was elected leader by a large margin. Soon afterwards, he went on the Home Service to address the public and set out his goals in office. His high-pitched voice and soft Yorkshire accent was a change from the usual radio voices of the time, and perhaps brought him closer to the working man – either way, he was to have great success with the media as the years rolled on.

    The 1950s, for Britain, was a time of unprecedented growth and economic welfare. Slowly but surely, the situation of the common man was improving. The average household suddenly found itself able to afford such luxuries as a television set and an automobile, both of which became cultural icons of the era and mainstays of life for the entire period since then. The NHS and the public education system meant that class divisions, once the predominant dividing line in British society, were fast disappearing, and the Labour Government made sure to drive this growth by pursuing investments in the public sector and the welfare state. Paid holiday time and improved workplace safety standards were passed, and motherhood allowance and child benefits were introduced to support British families. The housing subsidies introduced by Attlee's government were continued with equal vigour, and more council homes were completed with each passing year.

    All of this came with a cost, however – Britain's commitments abroad were gradually reduced. India, once the jewel in the British Empire's crown, had been decolonised in 1947, and during the 50s, most of Africa would follow. Wilson himself was seen to lack strong opinions in foreign policy, but many of his Cabinet colleagues were strongly in favour of decolonisation, and Wilson largely welcomed these measures. The Conservatives, however, did not – as Opposition Leader Harold Macmillan, very much a man of the old Tory elite, bellowed at Wilson in a Parliamentary debate in 1959, “there is a wind of change blowing across this country and her overseas possessions. This decline in national consciousness is a political fact, but a preventable one – however, this government is not taking steps to prevent it”.

    The big political conflict of the era, however, was not over the loss of Empire, but over the social security system. Labour had introduced a scheme to supplement the meagre existing state pensions with an added pension that would be paid out by the former employer as a statutory requirement. This did not resonate well with the Tories and Liberals, who ran mass campaigns against the “forced pension”, and proposed an alternative scheme whereby the individual employee and employer would be allowed to set pensions at levels suiting them. Labour in turn decried this as “unrealistic”, as it might potentially allow employers to cheat their employees out of any additional pensions whatever.

    A group of High Tories, however, most of them representing rural seats, broke with their party leadership to endorse Labour's pension scheme. This caused something of a ruckus within the party, and the contentions between left and right came to a head – in the ensuing 1960 general election, the two sides in the pension conflict published separate manifestos. Although they would not run against one another until the following election, the seeds of the modern Centrist and National parties were born.

    Wilson entered the 60s emboldened by his recent pension victory, and set about rebuilding the country from the ground up – literally. The introduction of the comprehensive secondary school, the most significant education reform since the tripartite system was introduced in 1944, moved significant planning responsibility onto local authorities, and the existing system of local government was felt too complex and uneven to handle such matters well. Legislation was brought before Parliament in 1962 to create a series of uniform council areas – initially a one-tier system was suggested, but this was changed to a two-tier one when the county councils vociferously protested – and the proposals were gradually implemented over the course of the following decade. England, Wales and Scotland moved from their previous intricate web of parish councils, town councils, boroughs, districts and so forth to a uniform system of regional councils and district councils, a system that despite its controversial nature has largely endured to the present day. Northern Ireland implemented its own one-tier local government system, foregoing the regional councils altogether, in 1970.

    In 1965, Labour faced no unified opposition thanks to the Tory split, and were able to return to power with a comfortable majority. In the subsequent year's local elections, however, Labour were trounced – a fact attributed to Wilson's unusually poor television performance (being interviewed for the first time by journalists not sympathetic to his party might have helped) as well as the decline of the house-building programmes. Labour listened, however, and a bold new initiative was launched – until 1975, a million new homes were to be built each year. This, it was predicted, would solve the housing crisis once and for all, and a modern home was to be available for every British family that needed it. The “Million Programme”, as it has become known, was greeted with enthusiasm at the time, but many of the estates built under its auspices have since fallen into disrepair and disrepute, becoming havens of petty crime, magnets for social deprivation and, depressingly but hardly unexpectedly, centres for Britain's immigrant communities. Some see in the Million Programme the legacy of an era where it was felt that government intervention could save the country, some see it as primarily Labour's vanity project that ended up jeopardising the country's standard of living and laying waste to significant parts of the Green Belts.

    Either way, the voters at the time would seem to have liked it, for in 1970 Labour was returned in a landslide of proportions unseen since 1945. Satisfied with his life's work, Wilson announced at the subsequent Party Conference that he was retiring from both the leadership and the premiership as soon as a successor could be found. This was not to take a very long time...
     
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    Anthony Wedgwood-Benn (1971-1978)
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    Anthony Wedgwood-Benn (Labour)
    1971-1978
    The Class Traitor

    Anthony Wedgwood-Benn was, in many ways, an unlikely Labour leader. His father and grandfather had both been prominent Liberal politicians (although the former went over to Labour), and his father had been made a viscount for his services to the wartime government. He went to Westminster School, not quite Eton but very nearly, and subsequently studied Politics, Philosophy and Economics at Oxford. He was an officer in the Royal Air Force, and while never seeing combat, remained in the reserve for many years after the war. When the elder Benn died in 1960, Anthony became the 2nd Viscount Stansgate, a title he found deeply distasteful and disclaimed as soon as the law was changed to let him do so. He retained, however, distinctly upper-class mannerisms and modes of speech throughout his life, a bizarre contrast against his political beliefs. So how did this public-school boy, this RAF reservist with noble pedigree, end up one of the foremost icons of political radicalism?

    No doubt one is making omissions in a retelling of Benn's career if one does not mention the fact that he was close to Harold Wilson. Wilson met Benn in 1955 while looking for a new private secretary, and was deeply impressed by the man – so impressed that, a few years later, he took him into Cabinet as Education Secretary. Benn was responsible for rolling out the comprehensive school, and undertook the task with great gusto. A firm believer in the levelling power of education, Benn was enthusiastic in his perceived attacks on the very institutions that had formed him – the Education Act 1966, largely Benn's brainchild, saw the overwhelming majority of independent schools nationalised, and what few ones remained were to be tightly overseen by the state. No longer would class determine who was educated where – instead, each child was assigned to a state school based on where he or she lived, and little wiggle room existed.

    Benn made himself known as an orator, both inside Parliament and outside it – he frequently led the marches on the First of May, and during election campaigns he served as a sort of “attack dog” against the divided opposition. He made some headlines when, during the 1968 student riots, he entered the occupied LSESU building and spoke to calm the students within. The appeal was a failure, but the fact that he tried spoke volumes about Benn's political style. He was different from the previous generation of Labour politicians, who would probably have considered his actions rash and unnecessary. The fact that Benn seemed to be one of the only politicians who would actually respect the youth made him popular among them, moreso than probably any politician at the time.

    So it was that when Wilson resigned, he proposed Benn as his candidate to succeed him. The election was unopposed, and Benn entered Number 10 in short order. His first priority was completing the constitutional arrangements begun by Wilson, and more specifically, Lords reform. Benn wanted the Lords abolished if possible and reformed to be more democratic if not. He proposed a scheme whereby half the house would be appointed by the sitting government through the issuing of life peerages, the other half elected by various sectional interests. The caveat to all this, of course, was that the Lords themselves would have to agree to it, and the overwhelmingly right-wing house wouldn't countenance such a radical reform. Where the Lords had consented to the expansion of the welfare state, the gradual dismantlement of Empire and the abolition of the public schools, here, they put their collective foot down. Hectic negotiations ensued, and ultimately it transpired that the Lords might be inclined to support the introduction of technocratic elements, but they wanted another reform in return – perhaps a slightly unexpected one: proportional representation for the Commons.

    Fifteen years prior, the idea of the House of Lords imposing PR would've been a ludicrous one. However, the division of the right meant that Labour was essentially in power for all eternity under first-past-the-post, while the still largely hereditary Lords remained dominated by Centrists and Nationals. This situation became rather distasteful to them, and after six successive election losses to Labour, that the right should champion proportional representation became a less and less ridiculous concept by the day. Benn, unlike most in Labour, was not wholly opposed to the idea of PR, and after some consideration let it be known that he'd agree to the proposals. The Parliament Act 1972 would split the Lords into three categories: a hundred representative peers elected by the entire hereditary peerage to represent them, two hundred technocratic peers selected by “panels” composed of workers within specific social groups – this was inspired by the Irish Senate – and a maximum of two hundred life peers appointed by the Prime Minister. The Commons, meanwhile, would be elected by proportional representation in constituencies of no more than twelve members, coinciding with local government boundaries in most places.

    In sharp contrast to Wilson, who'd been an eager reformer at home and at best a quiet safekeeper abroad, Benn was enthusiastic about his foreign policy views. Foremost of these was support for the liberation of various oppressed peoples, from Palestine to Angola to Chile to Vietnam. This latter point earned him the scorn of Washington – when the US Air Force firebombed Hanoi in late 1972, he referred to them in a televised speech as “murderers”, and linked their actions to those of Nazi Germany and apartheid South Africa. The American reaction was not long coming, and days after the speech they recalled their ambassador to London. If any previous Prime Minister had made such statements, he'd have been forced out of office, but Benn was unflappable. In the first Prime Minister's Questions of 1973, when he was inevitably grilled about these events, Benn proclaimed his adherence to two principles: “firstly, the triumph of democracy over imperialism, whether that imperialism wears a swastika or a white star on blue, and secondly, the triumph of truth over lies and sycophancy, whether or not that truth is politically convenient at the time”.

    On the home front, however, Benn's ministry is poorly remembered if it's remembered at all. Soon after the Vietnam debacle, Benn found himself in a domestic crisis when the Arabs invaded Israel in a surprise attack – the Foreign Office joined most of the West in condemning the attack, whereupon the Arab states in OPEC cut off their oil. At roughly the same time, industrial relations within the National Coal Board broke down, and the coal miners went on strike. Suddenly Britain found itself crippled by fuel shortages, and though exploitation of the North Sea oil resources was sped up in response, this was a long-term solution that would do little to bring people the fuel they desperately needed in the present. It wasn't long before Hugh Gaitskell, the long-serving Chancellor who'd first been minted during the early Wilson years, was forced to go on television to announce the introduction of a new rationing scheme for coal and oil. Private households would receive only a limited allocation of these resources per week, and as for industry, they were limited to three days a week of electrical supply. The “Three-Day Week” as it became known, was an unmitigated disaster for Labour, and coupled with the introduction of PR, they were widely expected to lose the next General Election in a landslide.

    Proportional representation works in funny ways, however, and it was a huge upset when the 1975 general elections returned exactly 310 seats for Labour and their Communist passive supporters, and 309 for the combined opposition. Discount the Speaker, and the two “blocs” were equally powerful. The opposition clamoured for a new election – Benn, however, refused to call one. He claimed this was because his mandate technically wasn't gone, but in practice his reasons were almost certainly more prosaic – he feared (quite rightly) that a fresh election would lead to him losing power. So it was that the Benn ministry stayed in power, and the farce of the “Lottery Parliament” ensued. Labour would seek compromise where possible, but where this was not possible – such as for appropriations bills – the vote in the House of Commons would be decided by the drawing of lots. As a general rule, this method proved surprisingly equitable – the government won about 52% of draws, the opposition about 48 – however, this did little to change the incongruous nature of the fact that the governance of Britain was now decided by who picked the hand where the Chairman of Ways and Means was holding the pebble.

    When the drawing for the budget of 1978 came up against the government, Benn decided to resign and contest an early election rather than sit through any more of this. The government had been able to curtail fuel rationing shortly after the previous election, and hoped that the people would've forgotten about the whole sordid affair by this point. They had not, however, and for the first time in over three decades, Labour was voted out of power. No clear successor was found, however, and so the choice of Prime Minister was a somewhat unconventional one...
     
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    Henry Plumb (1978-1981)
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    Henry Plumb (Centre-Liberal coalition)
    1978-1981
    The Outsider

    Charles Henry Plumb was born in 1925 on a small family farm in rural Warwickshire, and at the time it would seem he was no more likely to become Prime Minister than he was to become Emperor of Japan. However, history works in peculiar ways, and seldom has it worked in ways more peculiar than those that would lead Henry Plumb to Number 10. On his father's death in 1952, Plumb took over the family farm, and gradually became involved in farmers' advocacy organisations, culminating with his election as Deputy President of the National Farmers' Union in 1966. Normally this was not a position that aroused much media attention, but by a stroke of chance, a massive foot-and-mouth outbreak occurred immediately after Plumb's election, and the 41-year-old Midlands farmer came to national attention as the man who solved the crisis by recommending a ban on the import of meat from countries where the disease was endemic.

    Rather than run for President in 1970, Plumb stood for Parliament for the Centre Party, and when the leader Lord Amory retired in 1971, he was elected as the new leader. The precarious situation after the 1975 general election saw him narrowly retain his position as Opposition Leader, and while he had little of National leader Keith Joseph's flamboyance or ideological fervour, he struck an image as a competent potential Prime Minister and as a man of the people. The 1978 general election campaign played heavily on this aspect of his character, and a now-infamous statement by Anthony Wedgwood-Benn to the effect that “a man whose main political achievement is curing sick cows is hardly fit to lead the nation” was roundly mocked as elitist. In that election, Labour ended up losing power decisively.

    However, none of the three right-wing parties had a clear mandate to succeed him. True, Keith Joseph's electioneering had brought the Nationals to their strongest position in years, but that still only meant parity with the Centre, and the Liberals weren't far behind either of them. It was, however, abundantly clear that Keith Joseph was not going to be Prime Minister. The other two parties had campaigned on distinctly centrist platforms, and their voters likely wouldn't countenance such a radical man. Nor was it likely for the Liberals, the smallest of the three, to take the premiership. This left Plumb, who was open to compromise with both the other parties and had proved himself an amiable enough man during the campaign. He formed a coalition cabinet with the Liberals, backed by the Nationals, and set about the business of government.

    One point where the three parties could agree was that of lowering tax rates and simplifying the tax system – in 1979 a bill was passed to abolish National Insurance, merging it with the respective taxes it supplemented and raising them almost, but not quite, to parity with the old standard. To prevent the kind of insane marginal tax rates seen under Labour – where it was theoretically possible for a self-employed person with sufficient income to pay above 100 percent of their income – a cap was set at 75 percent of income. In most other fields, however, the Plumb government was exactly as moderate as it had pledged to be. Its main economic priority was saving British industry from ruin – to this end, it pumped large amounts of money into subsidising the nationalised industries. This evidently worked, as the balance of trade figures went closer and closer to the green with each passing year – however, inflation remained rather on the high side. The industrial disputes that had plagued the Benn ministry returned, with the increasingly-militant unions conducting a number of wildcat strikes across the summer of 1980. Plumb appealed for peace, but to little avail.

    Other than that, things were chugging along fairly well, and as it turned out, a non-Labour government wouldn't mean a return to the days of the Depression. However, the disunity of the governing parties was constantly looming in the background, and came to the fore in the spring of 1980, when the Prairie Island nuclear power plant in Red Wing, Minnesota suffered a meltdown that caused massive damage to its local environment. Anti-nuclear protests, which had been a fixture of British political life since the first reactors were taken online, became more vociferous than ever, and the Centre Party was known to sympathise with them. The Nationals, however, were perhaps the most strongly pro-nuclear party in Britain. When Plumb proposed to settle the matter in a referendum, Joseph withdrew his support from the government, and Plumb was forced to resign as Prime Minister. His successor was perhaps even less likely than him...
     
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    Alan Beith (1981)
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    Alan Beith (Liberal)
    1981
    The Strange Undeath of Liberal England

    When Alan Beith first entered Parliament in a by-election in 1973, it heralded the dawn of a new age for the Liberal Party. In 1979, a year after entering government, Jeremy Thorpe was forced out of the leadership due to a legal scandal surrounding the death of his former close friend Norman Scott, and the reins fell to Beith as Deputy Leader – he managed to defeat David Steel for the leadership in a 27-24 vote of the Liberal Parliamentary Party. Beith became Deputy Prime Minister in addition to his previous role as President of the Board of Trade, and remained in this position until Plumb's ignominious downfall.

    With the Centre Party withdrawing from government, a precarious situation arose. Keith Joseph still was not going to be Prime Minister, even Keith Joseph himself knew that, and Labour couldn't return to power without parliamentary support from the Liberals, which they were unwilling to give. In the end, it was decided that as the Liberals were already in government, they should form a small caretaker government that could sit until elections could be held. Beith was invited to the Palace on March the 19th, and became the first Liberal Prime Minister since Lloyd George. He formed a cabinet consisting entirely of his fellow Liberals, which led to some slightly malicious jokes that the entire Liberal Parliamentary Party now had a ministry each. This wasn't quite true, but very nearly – a full quarter of the party was in Cabinet, and another forty percent or so were junior ministers and PPSs.

    As one might expect, the Beith ministry was largely ineffective. It proposed a single budget, which contained no significant policy points and passed the Commons easily with cross-party support. It then sat around twiddling its thumbs for much of the summer recess, before dropping the writ in late July for an election to be held on 13 August. This 1981 general election saw the Liberals fall back significantly compared to 1978, but it was outweighed by the surprise surge for the Nationals – Keith Joseph being one of few frontline politicians not to have lost much face during this whole ordeal. Labour ended up short of a majority again, and the right once again formed the government.
     
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    Henry Plumb (1981-1982)
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    Henry Plumb (Centre-Liberal coalition)
    1981-1982
    The Insider

    Henry Plumb entered government a second time after the 1981 elections, as a similar situation found itself with a similar solution. The nuclear disagreement, which had killed the first Plumb ministry, was settled according to Plumb's original proposal, and a referendum scheduled for May of 1982. Campaigning for the referendum ended up taking most of the attention away from the government, and as the Nationals agreed to quietly support the government agenda in the House, the government remained surprisingly stable for its first few months in office. The budget for 1982 included significant austerity measures intended to cope with the growing economic crisis, which made the government lose much of that stability. Further strikes over the course of the winter reduced its favourability ratings yet further – by March of 1982, polls showed an eight-percent lead for Labour over the combined opposition.

    The industrial disputes faded over the spring, however, as media attention focused on the nuclear power referendum. The two governing parties supported Option C, which recommended the closure of all nuclear reactors within a decade and the refocusing of attention toward renewable energy sources. They were joined in this, somewhat surprisingly, by the Communists. The Nationals for their part supported Option A, which was perhaps the most pro-nuclear alternative – it called for the continued expansion of reactor volumes according to extant plans, after which expansion would be curtailed. Labour, for their part, backed Option B, which was fundamentally the same as Option A except that it included a footnote about public ownership – cynics argued that the two were kept separate simply because Benn and Joseph couldn't be seen to share a platform. The existence of three distinct options rather than a simple Yes/No proved somewhat confusing, with large numbers of “don't knows” featuring in all polls conducted in the run-up to the referendum.

    When Britain went to the polls, the results were... shall we say, less than clear. Option A received 19 percent, Option B 41 percent, and Option C 39 percent. While no one option received a majority, and indeed there was great confusion over what to do, it was at least clear that the proposal backed by the Prime Minister and much of the Cabinet had been defeated. A no-confidence motion was launched in the House of Commons not long after, and with the Nationals joining Labour in voting for it, the government fell. A general election was called soon after, the second in a year – this saw the governing parties defeated, with both the pro-nuclear parties gaining significant votes. Labour was back.
     
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    Anthony Wedgwood-Benn (1982-1986)
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    Anthony Wedgwood-Benn (Labour)
    1982-1986
    The Class Martyr

    The 1982 General Election marks the first time a single party won a majority of seats in the House of Commons since the introduction of PR. That party, unsurprisingly, was Labour, and Anthony Wedgwood-Benn found himself back in government with a stronger mandate than ever. The problem was, he had two different agendas from the different wings of his party, and from the moment of entering Number 10, his efforts had to be focused towards reconciling these contradictory agendas.

    The first agenda came from the party right, led by Treasury spokesman, and now Chancellor, David Owen. As flippant toward the party left as he was staunch in his “radical centrist” approach to social democracy, Owen wanted to see Labour dismantle significant portions of the bureaucratic state apparatus it had spent the past forty years building up. Above all it was in monetary policy that Owen was interested – he saw the regulations on credit lending and cross-border exchanges as a drain on the economy, and wanted them gone as soon as possible so that the economy might get a head start after the years of recession.

    The second agenda came from the party left, particularly the TUC, who had become increasingly militant since Labour's last spell in government. To ensure that its interests would be protected, the unions had exerted a significant influence on Labour's 1982 manifesto, which was suitably radical as a result – it called for further job standard increases, wealth redistribution, and most radically of all, the introduction of what it called a “Workers' Dividend”, a scheme that would distribute a portion of a given company's profit margin towards a fund directed by the trade union active at that company. This was roundly mocked by everyone to the right of Labour and a significant portion of people in Labour, but not enough to prevent it from being passed at conference, and Benn, ever the party democrat, did not take the voice of the Labour Party Conference lightly.

    So it was that Benn found himself with two different courses to follow. He could go with Chancellor Owen's plan for economic deregulation and growth through increased market economics, or he could go with the TUC's plan for traditional democratic socialism and “thin end of the wedge politics” (as Keith Joseph derisively referred to it in the 1982 leaders' debates). In a somewhat unorthodox move, he chose both. After all, Owen's plan was mostly focused on monetary policy while the TUC's plan was mostly focused on fiscal policy, so why not run both at once? They'd barely overlap, and it'd keep the party united. It was good politics, but was it good policy?

    Unfortunately, it turns out that they were less compatible than Benn might've hoped. Combining tax hikes and predatory (so it seemed) moves against British business with a deregulation on foreign currency transfers caused a disaster of unseen proportions, as scores of businesses and hundreds of wealthy taxpayers left Britain for brighter shores, many moving to Switzerland or the Low Countries. And beside this, the apparent contradictions in government policy made Labour look ever so slightly silly – this is probably exemplified by a picture taken illicitly in the Commons Chamber by a journalist, showing Chancellor Owen penning a poem attacking the Workers' Dividend proposal, the very policy he would take the Despatch Box to argue for mere moments later.

    The side effects of the Worker's Dividend could've been less of a shambles if it actually would light the path toward socialism – after all, the expropriation of the capitalist class was an essential step on that path, and with most of them leaving the country and the remainder subjecting their profits to union control, it seemed likely that this would be easier done now than ever before. However, this ignores the nature of the Dividend as actually passed by Parliament. The fact that David Owen would be the minister responsible for introducing the scheme, as well as the scrutiny of the Lords, meant that the Dividend as passed was a very different beast from the Dividend as the TUC originally intended it. Whereas the original plan had been for the Dividend funds to be controlled by the unions themselves, and used to gradually buy out stock in the company in question, the final Dividend would be controlled by the state, effectively making it a form of tax on profits. The proceeds from this would be moved into one of five funds, which had rather indistinct purposes – they mostly did not end up being used to purchase stock.

    The Workers' Dividend would be the last major step toward socialism undertaken by the Labour Party, as from 1984 onwards, Owen's agenda received priority. It seemed in line with the times – the economy was booming, and right-wing leaders in many other countries, notably Reagan in America and Chirac in France, were implementing similar policies. Over the succeeding years, Britain's economy faced a boom unseen since the 1950s, and the people grew richer and more innovative (or decadent, depending on whom you asked) by the day. However, the TUC, and in particular its Secretary-General, the militant Clydeside agitator Jimmy Reid, continued to attack the government in general and Owen in particular for their pursuit of “short-sighted” policies that might seem to serve the country well right now, but would surely lead to ruin when the boom-and-bust cycle inevitably reached its other end.

    The conflict was kept within the party for now, however, and Benn decided to put his accumulated goodwill to use by calling a snap election for February of 1986. His goal was to maintain Labour's majority, which he failed to do, but with a minority of 6, Labour would be able to comfortably remain in power with passive Communist support. The big surprise of the election was the return of the Liberals, who had suffered major losses under Alan Beith's leadership – new leader Paddy Ashdown, however, struck a chord with the electorate, and it showed as his party crossed 100 seats for the first time since 1923. The big loser of the election was the Centre, still led by Henry Plumb, who went below 10 percent of the vote for the first time since their founding.

    Only a week after polling day, tragedy struck. On his way home from a night at the theatre (not a usual haunt of his, but one he'd been persuaded to indulge in by his son Hilary), Anthony Wedgwood-Benn was shot in the back by an unknown assailant. The Metropolitan Police launched an investigation that would be perhaps the most high-profile case in its history, with a variety of leads considered ranging from Afrikaner nationalists to domestic far-right groups to any number of disillusioned individuals, but their search ended up fruitless. One of the main suspects, a drug addict and previous manslaughterer named Christopher Patterson, was indicted by the Crown Court for the murder in early 1989, but when the case was inevitably appealed to the Lords of Appeal in Ordinary, they were forced to acquit Patterson for lack of evidence. Mrs Benn's testimony, in particular, was considered unreliable, as parts of it suggested that she'd been fed information by the police prior to picking Patterson out of a line-up. No other suspect was brought to trial, but speculation continues to this day, particularly in the crime pages of the Daily Mirror, which has become nicknamed the “Daily Benn” as a result.

    Anthony Wedgwood-Benn may have been one of Britain's longest-serving Prime Ministers, a political titan of his era who stood up to the US and presided over a variety of policy experiments, but he will forever be remembered as the only Prime Minister in modern times (though not, as commonly believed, the first one – that honour goes to Spencer Perceval, who was shot inside the Palace of Westminster in 1812) to be assassinated. His death sent the nation into mourning, and precipitated a significant increase in Secret Service protection for political leaders, but it also sent the Labour Party into chaos, as no clear successor had been chosen. In the end, the task fell to his Deputy Prime Minister, a man of little previous renown who, while he didn't have Benn's charisma, Wilson's longevity or Attlee's vision, proved a fairly successful leader who took the party into a new age – the age of neoliberalism.
     
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    Frank Dobson (1986-1991)
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    Frank Dobson (Labour)
    1986-1991
    The Surprise King

    By the rules of the Labour Party, if the Leader resigns with immediate effect or is somehow incapacitated, the reins fall to the Deputy Leader until such time as a proper leadership contest can be held. In 1986, the Deputy Leader of the Labour Party was Frank Dobson, a York-born economist and staunch ally of Benn's who had few ties to either the left or the right of the party. This proved an asset in the years to come, as the so-called “Wars of the Roses” consumed Britain's natural governing party. The unions found him a man of principle who could be bargained with, and David Owen saw him as an ally in the economic field (which he may or may not have been – in any case, Owen's policies were continued under his reign). The leadership contest saw no other candidates stand against him, and he was acclaimed as leader by a unanimous PLP.

    Dobson's course was not significantly different from Benn's, except insofar as his was a slightly more hands-off style – cynics, especially left-leaning ones, would claim that David Owen was the actual Prime Minister for most of this period. The experiments with third-way politics continued, as the market was further liberalised and several state-owned industries shut their doors or were privatised. There were those who grumbled, to be sure, but on the whole the rising economic well-being of the country meant that the reforms were greeted warmly – Britain was being brought into step with the times, so the most common narrative went. The nation was transformed from the ground up, as the industrial sector grew smaller and the service and financial sectors grew larger by the day. Suddenly it seemed everyone (at least everyone in London) was either a City stockbroker or wanted to be one – finance was chic for the first time in a very long time. Money was cool, and the dominant cultural voices preached self-actualisation in place of the emphasis placed on solidarity during the 70s.

    Not everyone would have this, however. Jimmy Reid and the TUC continued to take potshots at Chancellor Owen for his “betrayal” of the party, and Owen would respond that the union officials needed to get in step with the times. The mudslinging contest grew worse and worse over 1987 and 1988, with a Daily Express journalist dubbing it “the Wars of the Roses” inspired by Labour's newly-adopted symbol. Ultimately, however, it was scarcely a conflict – in terms of government influence, Owen and his faction retained primacy throughout. By 1989, an increasingly deregulated economy began to reach stagnation, with the state actually running a surplus as a result of the still strongly progressive tax structure. Inflation began to become a problem, and it was clear that if no major action was taken, a recession would hit within a year or two.

    So the government called the TUC and CBI to a meeting to discuss potential remedies. The main proposals were for a two-year wage freeze for workers alongside a freeze on stock market dividends, in order to keep inflation from spiralling out of control. The TUC was initially hesitant toward the proposals, but after some negotiation agreed to back them publicly. Dobson and Owen staked their credibility on the proposals, labelling the bill that entered the House of Commons a confidence matter – however, they had not counted on the rebellion of a number of left-wing Labour backbenchers, which caused the bill to be narrowly defeated. Dobson saw no choice but to tender his resignation, which was granted by the Queen. But no alternate government could be found – Paddy Ashdown and Norman Tebbit saw eye to eye on precious few matters, and even if they might've been able to patch a government together, it wouldn't have been able to gain the confidence of the House with a majority against it. Speculation had it that an early election would be called, but for whatever reason this did not occur.

    So it was that mere days after resigning as Prime Minister, Frank Dobson returned to Number 10 at the head of a reformed Labour Government – however, this time David Owen was not part of it. It has been disputed whether he retired of his own free will or was forced out as part of an agreement with the Communists to back the new government, but whatever was true, the bogeyman of the Labour left was now gone. This is not to say that the new government would be a particularly socialist-minded one – rather than deal with the left of his own party, Dobson struck a budget deal with the Liberals that preserved much of the content of the original agreement, leading to the resignation of a number of left-leaning cabinet ministers – however, the government would remain until the elections, which were to be held on schedule in February of 1991.

    The 1991 general election campaign proved an eventful one, and was marked by the emergence of a number of new political forces. Firstly, the Liberals and Nationals had agreed to a united front in the election campaign, with the tacit understanding that they'd form a government together should Labour be defeated. The Centre announced their willingness to cooperate with both parties, and so it was that a unified alternative could be presented to the voters for the first time since 1955. And the left was less united than it'd ever been since the 1930s, as a group of left-wing Labourites launched a new party, the Worker's Alternative, which petered out before the election but still took a significant amount of momentum away from the Labour campaign. And then there was James Goldsmith, who announced in mid-1990 the launch of New Democracy, a right-wing populist party that promised massive tax cuts and reductions in bureaucracy, along with a tough stance on crime and immigration.

    These forces combined to ensure that Labour would get its worst result in memory, as the party's voteshare dropped below 40% for the first time since the war. The change of government was a good deal cleaner than in 1978, as the anti-socialist parties had an agreed joint programme and Prime Minister-designate. Dobson left Number 10, but not the party leadership, as Labour entered opposition once more.
     
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    Michael Portillo (1991-1994)
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    Michael Portillo (National-Centre-Liberal coalition)
    1991-1994
    The End of History

    When the 1991 General Election was over, it was clear that neither Labour nor the three traditional right-wing parties would have a Parliamentary majority – the balance of power would be held by New Democracy. However, Paddy Ashdown was adamant that any government the Liberals would take part in should not be dependent on Goldsmith's insurgent group, and so the broadest possible coalition should be formed. All three parties ended up being included directly in the governing coalition, which was only 11 seats short of a majority, and the tacit blessing of the Ulster Unionist Party gave it the working majority in confidence and supply matters that it needed. Michael Portillo, the National leader since Tebbit's resignation in 1989, became Prime Minister.

    The new government had its work cut out for it. The country was going through its worst recession since the war, with the massive bubble that had been formed by the shock deregulation of the credit market in 1985 now bursting. Millions of pounds of debt was created as a result, and by 1990 the situation was so bad that the Labour Government had been forced to nationalise the Midland Bank in order to keep it from collapsing entirely. The crisis still deepened, however, and Chancellor Virginia Bottomley found herself having to introduce uncomfortably hard budgets for 1992 and 1993. An unpaid day of sick leave was mandated, excise taxes on petrol, alcohol and tobacco were hiked, domestic rates and capital gains tax were kept high in spite of election promises to cut them, and most embarrassingly, the Workers' Dividend funds, which the Nationals had promised to return to the companies from whom they were originally levied, were instead diverted into state pension funds.

    One promise the government did fulfil was privatisation – and boy, did it privatise. Steel, coal (what remained of it), shipbuilding, British Leyland, several power stations, and a number of other state enterprises were sold off with the blessing of the Ulster Unionists. The railways, however, were not privatised – a bill to that effect was tabled in early 1993, but Labour managed to turn the Unionists and a few Centrist backbenchers over to their side by pointing to the cutting of rural rail services under private operation in other countries. It also helped even the balance of trade figures slightly when it took the pound out of its peg to the US dollar, ending the last vestige of the Bretton Woods system and establishing its own floating currency value – the pound did drop in value as a result, but when it stabilised it was significantly more competitive than it had been.

    The main achievement of the Portillo government, it must be said, was taking Britain into Europe. EEC membership had been considered by Harold Wilson; however, Charles de Gaulle consistently blocked British accession, and with Benn a soft eurosceptic and the Plumb government heavily disunited on the matter, the issue was passed over. Portillo, however, was adamant that membership was right, and that with the Iron Curtain gone and the Maastricht Treaty worked out, continued non-membership would be an economic disaster. He was able to secure a deal whereby Britain would join in 1995, alongside Austria, Sweden, Finland, Norway and the Irish Republic, pending referenda in each of those countries. The British referendum was scheduled for August of 1994, and campaigning began that spring. Throughout the campaign, the Nationals and Liberals were solidly for; the Centre Party and the Communists were just as solidly against. Labour, for their part, were divided, but eventually worked the issue out by allowing its members to campaign on either side – separate “Labour for Yes” and “Labour for No” campaigns were set up as a result. The campaign divided Britain as few events have before or since, and polls were unanimous insofar as the result was going to be close. August came, and with it, the result – by a 52 to 48 margin, Britain had said yes to Europe. Portillo's ambition realised, he expected the polls to turn in his favour as 1995 rolled on – however, events would overtake him.

    The accession to the European Union meant improved transport links were in Britain's interest, and negotiations with the French government for the Channel Tunnel had been underway for almost as long as the accession negotiations themselves. By September of 1994, the details were worked out, and the Channel Tunnel Bill put before the House of Commons. The Centre Party, who had made their opposition to the Tunnel known, voted against, and while Labour's backing meant it passed easily, the government's position was made slightly uncomfortable. Frank Dobson seized the moment, calling a no confidence vote – which to everyone's surprise, passed. Early general elections were called for the 3rd of November, and the short campaign proved devastating for the government – Labour ran rings around them by pointing to their economic record, and the fact that for all the bluster about Europe, an unprecedented number of British subjects were still unemployed. On the promise of hard measures to turn the economy around, Labour were elected, and Portillo left Number 10 about as abruptly as he had entered it. New Democracy collapsed in the elections, the result of their internal bickering following Goldsmith's departure, and were never heard from again.
     
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    Frank Dobson (1994-1996)
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    Frank Dobson (Labour)
    1994-1996
    The Comeback Kid

    Dobson re-entered Downing Street to great fanfare, heralding what would be the longest period of Labour rule since the one that ended in 1978 – his voteshare gave Labour and the Communists together an overall majority, and has not been exceeded by the party since. His government featured mainly new faces – notably the Chancellor, a former local politician and Leader of Hull City Council who had originally been recruited to Cabinet in 1989 to provide a non-Whitehall perspective on government – but Roy Hattersley, one of the big heavy-hitters of the final Benn cabinet, was brought in as Defence Secretary. With the backing of the Centre Party, Dobson initiated a harsh austerity programme, intended to balance the books and in the process restore the national economy. Taxes were raised and the welfare net cut, which earned the government the TUC's ire, but by all accounts did have a palpable effect on the economy, as the situation stabilised somewhat for the first time since 1990.

    Another event in Dobson's second premiership (technically his third, because of the events of 1989) was Britain's initial election for the European Parliament. Britain had been assigned 85 seats in the expanded Parliament, which were to be elected by much the same system as Parliament – proportional representation based on the home nations, with England divided into regions to make the constituency size equitable. The “euro-elections” as they were dubbed saw Labour's voteshare drop very dramatically compared with the 1994 general, as they obtained below 30 percent of the vote. The great surprise was the success of the smaller parties, with both the Liberals and Communists going well above ten percent – this can be attributed to them taking clearer stands on the membership question, as well as the much lower turnout (some 35 percent voted, compared to 78 percent in the general) which was thought to hurt big parties more. However, the Liberals found themselves in infighting between the left-leaning “Green Liberals” and the more classically liberal “Blue Liberals”, a conflict that would dominate the 1990s for the party.

    As 1995 became 1996, Dobson tired of the responsibilities of the premiership, and announced that he would resign as soon as a successor could be chosen. Deputy Prime Minister Harriet Harman was considered the likely pick, but she caused something of a ruckus when it was revealed that she had used her ministerial expense account to purchase a number of luxury goods – including hotel rooms, rented cars and Toblerone chocolate. The latter was what the press caught on to, and the “Toblerone affair” ended up forcing Harman's resignation. Instead the task fell to Dobson's Chancellor, a divisive figure in the party and the country, who would go on to lead the country for a longer single period than anyone since Wilson.
     
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    John Prescott (1996-2006)
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    John Prescott (Labour)
    1996-2006
    The Boss

    John Prescott had humble origins – he was born in Wales, the son of a railway signalman and grandson of a miner, and his family was Labour through and through. He spent most of his childhood in Yorkshire, and after abortive studies at the University of Hull, went off to become a merchant sailor. He soon got involved with the trade union movement, and from there went on to be elected to Hull City Council, where he would spend two decades of his life first as a plain Councillor and then as Council Leader. He earned a reputation as a shrewd manager of council funds, and went into Cabinet at Frank Dobson's request in 1989 – despite not being a Member of Parliament at the time. In 1990, he stood in a by-election in Rotherham and Doncaster, the constituency where he spent most of his childhood, and won by a large margin.

    When Dobson returned to Number 10 in 1994, Prescott became Chancellor, and as such responsible for the Labour Government's controversial austerity measures. He became vilified by the party left, but stood his ground, famously proclaiming that “he who is indebted is not free”. Dobson's retirement and the somewhat shambolic leadership contest that ensued eventually saw Prescott unopposed for the top job – Harriet Harman's leadership bid was scuttled when her expenses scandal broke, and attempts by the Labour Left to stand a candidate against Prescott failed to materialise. So it was that despite not being particularly loved by anyone, and actively hated by the left, John Prescott was able to enter Number 10 with the nominal backing of a unified Labour movement.

    His premiership was helped along by the gradual turning around of the ecomony – by 1997 the recession was definitely over, and the boom that followed it would last the remainder of Prescott's time in office. Very little state action seemed to be necessary to ensure continued prosperity. Prescott seized the moment to call a General Election in the autumn of 1998, campaigning on his record in government and promising a broad-ranging reform programme, the cornerstone of which was the introduction of a blanket subsidy for child care. This would allow low-income parents to send their children to day nurseries, helping women enter the labour market to a higher extent than they had previously been able to. The election result ended up somewhat surprising, as Labour lost a significant number of seats, but thanks to the explosive growth of the recently-rechristened Left Party, the change was not actually such as to threaten Prescott's position. In a now-famous TV interview, the Prime Minister reacted to the historically-poor Labour result with the taciturn phrase “We're holding power”.

    This was very much emblematic of Prescott's style in government – what mattered wasn't necessarily the impact of his political programme, but the continual mandate to implement that programme. He knew how to play the game of politics and play it well, and opposing voices in party as well as country often found themselves dealt with quickly and quietly. He was always a man of decisive action, setting out a course and then following it, criticism or contrary evidence be damned – sometimes this worked well, sometimes less so. His creation of the Private Finance Initiative in 1999 ushered in the biggest wave of home construction since the Million Programme, as former industrial areas were redeveloped into attractive suburban housing. On the other hand, his decision to participate in talks over the European single currency led to raucous debate in Parliament, as significant portions of the Labour Party itself opposed the idea just as they had the original entry, and ultimately the issue had to be dropped.

    Meanwhile, there were rumblings on the opposition benches. After their second consecutive defeat in 1998, Michael Portillo resigned the National leadership, and the party chose Iain Duncan Smith to succeed him. IDS, as he was almost universally known, was a controversial figure – a strident right-winger, he believed in a massive reduction of state power, withdrawal from the European Union and stricter immigration policy, all ideas far out of the Overton Window at the time. The Nationals were never going to do very well in the climate of the time (good economy, popular incumbent Labour government that was mostly unmarred by scandal), but IDS' leadership seemed to have made the situation actively worse. The Liberals, meanwhile, were seeing the end of their crisis, with the green faction splitting off to form their own party and the remainder veering increasingly to the right. Brian Paddick, the new Liberal leader, was making vague noises about law and order, an approach that won him and his party publicity, but caused some to doubt whether or not he was actually a credible small-L liberal. This was the backdrop against which the 2001 General Election was called.

    The campaign proved eventful, but not for Labour – Prescott toured the country almost like a monarch, making noncommittal speeches asking for continued confidence, and making very few concrete promises for the upcoming term. He made few direct overtures to the electorate because he knew he wouldn't need to – he could simply watch as the opposition tore itself apart and coast back into Number 10 on the competence vote. This strategy proved more successful than he could've dreamed of, as the National Party was marred by both IDS' perceived radicalism and unfitness to govern and a number of scandals concerning local campaigners making racist remarks about South Asians. Election night confirmed the trends of the campaign, as the Nationals slumped to some fifteen percent of the vote while the Liberals surged nearly to the point of overtaking them. A brief abortive attempt to form a minority Liberal government fell apart when the Greens refused to countenance a deal with the party they'd left, and Labour ended up returning to power.

    Prescott's campaign style in the 2001 elections would prove a sign of things to come, as the governing party appeared more stale and out of touch than ever. To make things worse for Labour, the opposition parties learned their lessons and for the first time since 1965 presented a united alternative. The Alliance for Britain was launched by the Nationals, Liberals, Centre and Ulster Unionists at the ancestral farm of the Centre leader, where the leaders made appearances on the porch in informal wear, drinking tea and chatting in a perfectly ordinary manner. This contrasted rather sharply with the budget negotiations at Chequers the same week, which featured all the Labour cabinet ministers in evening dress hobnobbing over cocktails and discussing technical aspects of politics. It was clear that Labour's days in office were numbered, but eventually the Nationals would go too far in their attempt to emulate Labour's recipe for success. When they held a May Day parade in 2004, marching with banners captioned “LOWER TAXES” and “MAKE WORK PAY”, they were roundly mocked by both the left and the media.

    However, it was to be two years until the election was called – at the last possible moment – and in those two years, Prescott and his government did not go out of their way to portray an image of competence, reform-mindedness or much of anything except petty bickering and party fatigue. Biographies revealed that Prescott had hoped to retire in favour of Foreign Secretary Mo Mowlam – however, Mowlam's death from a brain tumour in 2003 had rendered such an option moot, and he was consigned to waiting around in office, with very few ideas or proposals beyond “stay in power”. This type of leadership style is seldom a vote-winner, and indeed it was to no one's surprise that the 2006 General Election resulted in Labour losing power once more. They were not to regain it for quite some time...
     
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    David Cameron (2006-2014)
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    David Cameron (National-Centre-Liberal-Ulster Unionist Alliance)
    2006-2014
    The Chameleon

    Whatever one may think of him, it must be said that David Cameron has dominated his political generation. Born in London and raised in rural Berkshire, Cameron was the son of a stockbroker and a scion of an upper-middle-class family with strong connections to the National Party. When he went to Oxford it was natural for him to step into the party, and aside from a brief stint in a City bank, he would remain a professional politician for most of his career. He first gained nationwide attention when he ousted the sitting Young National chairman, taking over the league for himself and eventually using the chairmanship as a springboard onto the front bench under Iain Duncan Smith, where he served as Shadow Health Secretary. After IDS' ignominious departure, Cameron was able to paint himself as the change candidate, and won the leadership ballot of the much-reduced National parliamentary party by a broad margin.

    He immediately set about projecting a new image of the National Party, realising that IDS' right-wing rhetoric had probably put off more voters than it won. The new party slogan portrayed it as “the party for working people”, a blatant rhetorical grab from Labour, and the official rhetoric moved away from the constant talk of “a change of systems” (read: massive tax cuts and privatisation) that had dominated the party's previous image, toward measures to help the life of the common man. Proposals such as tougher crime prevention, improving the quality of education and lower taxes for low- and middle-income earners proved popular with the “naturally-conservative” English working class, while not being far enough away from the traditional message to alienate the base.

    Most notable, however, were Cameron's moves toward a unified right. In 2004, he met with Brian Paddick, Annabel Goldie and Ulster Unionist leader Basil McCrea to hash out terms for an “Alliance for Britain” – a coalition of the traditional right that could serve as a ready-made alternative to Labour rule, increasing the opposition's credibility as it went into the election campaign. This paid its dividends, as a united opposition was able to attack a tired government with far more efficiency, and when the dust had settled and the 2006 General Election was over, Britain found itself with a majority right-of-centre government for the first time since Winston Churchill's caretaker ministry in 1945.

    In contrast to his rhetoric, Cameron ran a fairly standard right-of-centre government, cutting taxes and denationalising a number of state-run businesses – British Telecom was first to get the axe in 2007, followed by British Airways and the government's share in the Midland Bank in the budget for 2008. The railways were deregulated, with British Rail yielding responsibility for regional rail services to the various regional PTEs. Private operators were introduced as part of the NHS system with the Health and Social Care Act 2008, and the free school programme, originally launched by the Portillo government and hitherto sparingly used, was massively expanded. For the first time, free school operators would be allowed to draw a profit off their state-provided budget, a hugely controversial move that the opposition argued would lead to “welfare oligarchs” taking over and running schools and healthcare centres purely for profit. The government countered by pointing to the fact that PFI construction firms were already allowed to do the same, a measure that was apparently without controversy and had, in fact, been introduced by Labour.

    The reforming zeal of the Cameron government was cut short somewhat when the global financial markets crashed in August of 2008. It became necessary to shore up state finances in the face of this, and the government proceeded to institute a harsh austerity programme, limiting benefits and cutting back social services. Some eyebrows were raised at the fact that this was combined with large tax breaks – corporation tax was brought down to 22%, wealth tax was completely abolished, and most prominently the government launched a scheme of tax breaks for people in gainful employment, designed to increase the gap separating those earning wages for work from those on benefits. This was the cornerstone of Cameron's ambition to be “the party of the workers” – there should be clear incentives to seek employment rather than be reliant on benefits to get by.

    These measures contributed to make the government deeply unpopular, but the opposition wasn't doing much better. After Prescott's ignominious retirement in 2006, the party found itself largely without feasible leadership figures – Mo Mowlam had been the designated successor prior to her death, and Prescott's leadership style allowed few others to make themselves prominent. In the end, Harriet Harman's second bid in a decade went unopposed, and she found herself at the helm of the party. However, her past scandals marked her as an unsuitable Prime Minister-in-waiting from the very start, and her lacklustre performance at PMQs did her no favours. When Cameron decided to call a General Election for the spring of 2010, Labour had formed their own version of the Alliance, teaming up with the Greens to form the “Red-Greens” – after pressure from the trade unions, Harman was forced to include the Socialist Left, in spite of frosty relations with Dave Nellist and his party. This somewhat motley mix of tax-dodging Labour grandees, unapologetic former Eastern Bloc apologists from Coventry and beard-and-sandal Islington liberals proved unconvincing to the public, especially compared with the clear united front presented by the parties of the Alliance.

    The Red-Greens weren't helped by the election campaign, which was seen as somewhat complacent and focused more on smearing the Alliance's record in government than presenting any sort of alternative. This was problematic for two reasons: firstly, Labour was seen as “entitled to govern” and convinced that they needed to do very little except wait to return to government, and secondly, the attacks on the Alliance went over rather poorly with a public who still felt like things were getting better and Cameron was fighting their corner. When confronted on their record, Cameron and his ministers could simply point to the continent and the governments there who had faced the financial crisis with far less success than Britain had.

    So the Alliance found itself re-elected, in an upset that would go down in the history books – it was the first right-of-centre government since the war to call an election at its own preferred time and be re-elected to a second full term. The Nationals were the big winners, gaining over 30 percent of votes cast and coming within an inch of edging out Labour as the largest party. The election held yet more surprises as the far-right British Democrats entered Parliament with some twenty seats, denying a majority to either one of the traditional blocs. However, the Alliance remained the largest bloc, and citing the precedent set by Prescott after the 1998 election, they remained in power without calling a confidence vote.

    After the disastrous election, Labour went into full catatonia. The party was not used to long spells in opposition, and Harman's leadership was widely seen as having cost them their guaranteed victory at the polls. The knives went out immediately and decisively, and the party changed course in a dramatic manner. Elected as new leader was John McDonnell, a noted firebrand of the party left who was nonetheless personally popular with the voters of his West London constituency, managing to get two Labour members elected in the five-seat constituency of Hillingdon and Harrow in spite of the meltdown in much of the rest of the country. It was felt that a return to Labour's roots of grassroots activism and genuine left-wing opposition would be of help in the troubled times, and for a while it worked – until McDonnell was faced with an expenses scandal, having claimed the entire £1200 a month rent on his inner London flat in spite of sharing it with his partner. The Daily Express made this front-page news, in spite of there being no rule against such claims, and McDonnell was publicly embarrassed.

    His off-the-cuff speaking style stoked further controversy, as he was seen making a hustings speech in his constituency in which he produced a copy of Chairman Mao's Little Red Book which he proceeded to quote from – he claimed this was to lampoon the government's tendency to “privatise” public assets by selling them to foreign governments, including the Chinese one. However, the damage was done, and his troubles continued throughout 2011, as Labour slumped to the mid-20s in the polls. It was clear that McDonnell was more of a liability than an asset by this point, and in early 2012 he resigned effective immediately. Yvette Cooper became acting leader until a new leader could be appointed – this time the job would go to someone with no skeletons in his closet, who could be guaranteed not to provoke either side of the party.

    Meanwhile in Whitehall, the government continued its reform business, aided by the slow easing of the financial crisis. The pharmaceutical market was deregulated in late 2010, having previously been nationalised in 1969, and while British Chemists was allowed to continue under state ownership, a significant portion of its outlets were sold off to various private firms. Defence expenditure was cut back significantly, as sixty years of National Service came to an end and the Armed Forces were made to adjust to being an understaffed, underfunded professional military.

    Most prominent, however, was the major educational reform undertaken by Michael Gove, the new Liberal leader and Education Secretary since Paddick's resignation in 2007. Secondary education was completely reformed by this, as two separate forms of secondary school would exist – secondary professional schools and secondary preparatory schools (the latter became known in colloquial speech as “grammar schools” from more or less the word go). Only the latter would grant students the CSE diploma necessary to apply to higher education, whereas previously everyone who graduated secondary school had received such privileges automatically. Students at professional schools would be able to study an additional year to receive their CSE, and it was argued that with the increased focus on workplace skills, few of them would need this as they'd be able to get work easier on their secondary degree alone. In spite of this supposed increased focus on practical education, however, professional school curricula would be required to include History and Citizenship courses.

    Overall the second term of Cameron's government was less eventful than the first, especially from 2012 and onwards. It seemed that most of what the government had set out to do had been done, and Labour's monopoly on power had been decisively broken. There were even those who started talking of the government being fatigued, much like Prescott's had been in its later years, and certainly it seemed like the opposition was ruling the day in the Commons more than Cameron himself. The Alliance depended on a divided opposition to pass its agenda – passive supply and confidence was normally granted by the British Democrats in the form of abstentions, but when the 2014 budget was called, including significant funding increases for immigrant services, the British Democrats joined the opposition in voting it down. They were emboldened in this by their euro-election results, which had seen them entering the British delegation for the first time with an almost unbelievably impressive nine percent of the vote. The subsequent no-confidence vote was lost by the government, and a General Election scheduled for early September.

    The election campaign, which was the longest in memory, proved eventful. Labour had held a steady lead for much of the term since McDonnell's departure, but it whittled down somewhat over the summer as the Alliance reasserted its position, pointing to its relatively successful record in government and the fact that the recession seemed to be ending. The Centre, which had been slumping in the polls ever since Annabel Goldie's retirement and the election of Chloe Smith, a “renewer” in the party who was associated with the metropolitan green-libertarian wing of the party derisively known to its traditionalists as the “Sloane Square set”, began to recover after Smith's impressive debate showings. The Liberals, on the other hand, sank like a stone through a wet paper bag, as Gove seemed unable to hold on to the voters that Paddick had brought in. On the opposition side, the Socialist Left made significant inroads into Labour's support, as Jeremy Corbyn made an eloquent case against allowing private healthcare and education providers to profit off state funding. The Greens, too, seemed on the up and up, especially given their impressive euro-election result, in which they beat the Nationals into second place by a narrow margin. Overall, days were good for minor parties, and neither Labour nor Nationals were able to gain significantly on their 2010 results, with the latter falling significantly below it.

    Polling Day came and went, and the result was a major upset – Labour failed to gain much of anything in voteshare terms, the Nationals fell back down to its 1990s levels, and the British Democrats managed to gain thirteen percent, a significant increase from any previous result of theirs. The Liberals too slumped slightly, but other than that, nothing much changed. The Centre did not lose any seats, there was no Green surge as had been so confidently predicted by the London chattering classes, and nor did the Left take all that many votes from Labour. The situation would've been deeply unclear, except insofar as Cameron, apparently burnt out from years in government, went on the BBC on the Friday morning to announce his immediate resignation as both Prime Minister and party leader. With the National Party in chaos, the premiership more or less fell into the lap of Labour's new leader, a grey man wholly unsuited to this decidedly non-grey age.
     
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    Dave Prentis (2014-)
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    Dave Prentis (Labour-Green coalition)
    2014-
    The Incumbent

    When Labour lost its second election in a row in 2010, it was felt they needed a break with their past image of grey bureaucrats who cared more about holding power than they did making policy. They needed a firebrand, a genuine left-winger who could enthuse the people once again and pave the way for the triumphant return to Number 10 that everyone knew was coming. So they turned to John McDonnell.

    Eighteen months later, McDonnell's leadership had left the party divided and facing a polling disaster. The government had started winning by-elections, and Labour spent more time on internal quarrels than they did opposing the Alliance. It was now felt they needed someone who embodied the exact opposite qualities from the ones McDonnell had been associated with.

    So they turned to Dave Prentis, the General Secretary of NALGO. Prentis had the credentials to please both wings of the party – for the left, he was a longstanding, successful union leader with a broad Yorkshire accent, and for the right, he had strong credentials for industrial harmony, cooperating with the state to secure economic prosperity. More than everything else, in his union positions he'd taken a technocratic bent, keeping well outside the internal conflicts of the TUC and the Labour Party. His leadership bid was somewhat damaged by not being an MP, but immediately upon his election a member for East London stood down, triggering a by-election that Prentis comfortably won.

    Prentis was not a particularly skilled debater, but much like Henry Plumb before him, gained a reputation as an underdog when compared with Cameron's Eton-Oxford education. Labour's election campaign in 2014 played heavily on these differences, with one notable PPB featuring Prentis touring the places of his childhood in working-class Leeds. Overall the campaign was significantly more positive than the 2010 one, though it was still criticised internally for “accepting the Cameronite consensus” by refusing to take stands on private welfare or pledge the reversal of Alliance tax cuts. Party strategists had set a target voteshare of 35%, a figure that would've meant conceding defeat as late as ten years prior, and even this was not reached. However, the National collapse and British Democrat surge still left him at the head of the largest party by some margin, and after some negotiations he ended up forming a coalition government with the Greens (the first Labour-led coalition since Ramsay MacDonald).

    In some alternate universe, this might've been a great reforming government, elected as it was on the promise of reducing Britain's unemployment level to be the lowest in Europe by 2020. However, as the parliamentary situation stood, such was not going to happen. The government had the direct backing of less than forty percent of the Commons. They sought the backing of the Socialist Left, conceding several policy points including an independent inquiry into private welfare, but this still did not win them a majority. Fortunately, this would not normally be a problem, as the Alliance was even weaker, and the British Democrats wouldn't work with them or vote with them on the budget – the hope was that they'd abstain just as they'd done the Alliance budgets. This hope was not to be, in spite of the fact that the Alliance agreed to match Labour's integration spending level in order to prevent the British Democrats from siding with them. The very first budget was defeated in the Commons, and within months of the General Election, Britain faced a government crisis.

    However, as things stood there was very little appetite for early elections from either the government or the Alliance. The National Party was still in disarray after Cameron's sudden departure, and with the British Democrats continuing their poll surge it was looking unlikely that they'd stand to gain from fresh elections. Chloe Smith, who was more or less the de facto leader of the Alliance as leader of its second-largest party, negotiated a deal with Prentis whereby the Alliance parties would abstain on supply and confidence for the next four years, effectively giving consent to Labour rule. However, when those four years were up, an election would be held, and if the Alliance were the biggest bloc then, Labour would have to reciprocate. Under these rules, Labour were able to pass a budget, and the governance of Britain carried on as usual.

    However, the year and a half elapsed since has seen unprecedented upheavals, from the refugee crisis to the heightening tensions between the West and Russia, to the explosion of the British homeless population (largely EU migrants), and the British Democrats continue to surge in the polls. The Liberals, facing irrelevance, have rebranded themselves the “Liberal People's Party”, a move that kept them in the headlines but ultimately had little effect on their poll ratings. The Greens have hit a slump, brought on by their perceived powerlessness as Labour's junior coalition partner, and in their place the Socialist Left under Corbyn's leadership have risen to become the dominant force of the “plural” left. Fuelled by the bitterness that prompted her to leave the Socialist Left while still its leader, Diane Abbott has founded a “Rainbow Alliance” campaigning on issues of racial equality, a platform that wins her plenty of attention but ultimately not much support outside the major cities. Iris Robinson, the new Ulster Unionist leader, is pledging “No Surrender to Labour”, likely meaning her party will refuse to adhere to the agreement and vote down the next Labour budget, and the new National leader seems to be sympathetic to the idea.

    It remains to be seen whether Prentis and his government will even last until the hypothetical 2018 General Election, or whether he'll stumble and fall on a budget vote before then as the right increasingly comes to realise that the allure of power may be worth shedding some righteous indignation and making a deal with the British Democrats. A line of Labour Prime Ministers, from treacherous Ramsay Mac to beloved Attlee, to long-serving Wilson, to firebrand Benn, to reformer Dobson, to power-broker Prescott, look down from the walls of Number 10. How long before Prentis joins them, and will he do so at a time of his choosing or in ignominious defeat at the hands of his enemies? Time, alone, will tell.
     
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    List and conclusion
  • And th-th-th-that's all folks! 70-odd years of Swedish history is done, or at least it's going to take a little while before we have anything further to add. Thanks to all the loyal readers for making this one of the more enjoyable writing experiences I've had. I'm glad I finally finished something.

    Here's a complete list of Prime Ministers and leaders going into elections in TTL:

    1945-1950: Clement Attlee (Labour)
    1945: Winston Churchill (Conservative), Archibald Sinclair (Liberal)
    1950: Winston Churchill (Conservative), Clement Davies (Liberal)

    1950-1971: Harold Wilson (Labour)
    1955: Harold Macmillan (Conservative), Clement Davies (Liberal)
    1960: Harold Macmillan (Conservative), Jo Grimond (Liberal)
    1965: Reginald Maudling (Anti-Pension Conservative), Derick Heathcoat-Amory (Pro-Pension Conservative), Jo Grimond (Liberal)
    1970: Derick Heathcoat-Amory (Centre), Arthur Seldon (National), Jo Grimond (Liberal)

    1971-1978: Anthony Wedgwood-Benn (Labour)
    1975: Henry Plumb (Centre), Keith Joseph (National), Jeremy Thorpe (Liberal), Dennis Skinner (Communist)
    1978-1981: Henry Plumb (Centre-Liberal Coalition)
    1978: Anthony Wedgwood-Benn (Labour), Keith Joseph (National), Jeremy Thorpe (Liberal), Dennis Skinner (Communist)
    1981: Alan Beith (Liberal)
    1981-1982: Henry Plumb (Centre-Liberal Coalition)
    1981: Anthony Wedgwood-Benn (Labour), Keith Joseph (National), Alan Beith (Liberal), Dennis Skinner (Communist)
    1982-1986: Anthony Wedgwood-Benn (Labour)
    1982: Keith Joseph (National), Henry Plumb (Centre) Alan Beith (Liberal), Dennis Skinner (Communist)
    1986: Norman Tebbit (National), Paddy Ashdown (Liberal), Henry Plumb (Centre), Dennis Skinner (Communist)

    1986-1991: Frank Dobson (Labour)
    1991-1994: Michael Portillo (National-Centre-Liberal Coalition)
    1991: Frank Dobson (Labour), Paddy Ashdown (Liberal), John Gummer (Centre), James Goldsmith (New Democracy), Dennis Skinner (Communist)
    1994-1996: Frank Dobson (Labour)
    1994: Michael Portillo (National), John Gummer (Centre), Paddy Ashdown (Liberal), Diane Abbott (Socialist Left)
    1996-2006: John Prescott (Labour)
    1998: Michael Portillo (National), Diane Abbott (Socialist Left), John Gummer (Centre), Brian Paddick (Liberal)
    2001: Iain Duncan Smith (National), Brian Paddick (Liberal), Diane Abbott (Socialist Left), Annabel Goldie (Centre), collective leadership (Green)

    2006-2014: David Cameron (National-Centre-Liberal-Ulster Unionist Alliance)
    2006: John Prescott (Labour), Annabel Goldie (Centre), Brian Paddick (Liberal), Dave Nellist (Socialist Left), collective leadership (Green)
    2010: Harriet Harman (Labour), collective leadership (Green), Michael Gove (Liberal), Annabel Goldie (Centre), Nick Griffin (British Democrat), Dave Nellist (Socialist Left)

    2014-: Dave Prentis (Labour-Green Coalition)
    2014: David Cameron (National), Nick Griffin (British Democrat), collective leadership (Green), Chloe Smith (Centre), Jeremy Corbyn (Socialist Left), Michael Gove (Liberal)
     
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